Page 58 of Revenge Cake

“Because it affects my future!” he shouts. “I might be moving to Indiana with you. I could at least use a heads-up to start looking for jobs.”

I can’t respond to that. Not yet. Instead I talk around it. “I don’t imagine they have good Mexican food in Indiana.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him smile at the memory of that first night we spent in his bed.

“You’re baking,” he says with a delighted lilt, apparently just now becoming aware of his surroundings.

“Yes,” I say, still not looking in his direction.

“I fucking love your chocolate cakes.”

I smile. “I made this one just for you.”

“Did you really?”

The innocent delight in his voice gives me pause. Am I really doing this? Am I really going to feed him his own Closure Cake before I seduce him?

Yes. I’ve come this far. I’ll finish the job now and think about my integrity later.

I lift my head over my shoulder, planning to give him a sultry smile, but as soon as I see his face my mouth freezes.

He’s so beautiful. His hair still wet from the shower. His tight workout shirt hugging his chest. And, oh god, that smile. That sincere half-smile I never could resist.

Unable to stand it, I turn back to my cake. I gently lift the top layer and place it on the custard covered bottom. After I remove my hands from the cake, I lift my index finger to my mouth and slowly suck off the non-existent drop of custard. When I glance back at Logan, he’s still looking at the cake. I turn away, rolling my eyes dramatically as soon as my face is out of his view. Was this dress even worth eighty dollars of my god damn student loan money?

“Can I frost it?” he asks.

My hands freeze in place. Why does he have to be so cute?

Every time I bake, he asks to “help” me by doing his favorite tasks—the easy things, like running the stand mixer or frosting the cake—with the unguarded enthusiasm of a six-year-old boy. That guilty pang in my chest grows heavier.

“Sure,” I say, but I take no pleasure watching him reach for the frosting bowl, his broad shoulders bracing as he gives it a stir. He stares at it thoughtfully as if he has any clue about the desired consistency. He knows nothing about baking.

Clenching his fingers around the wooden spoon, he takes a large glob of frosting and plops it on the top layer. I wince. “That’s too much. You need much smaller spoonfuls if you want it to smooth out properly…”

He whips around, shooting me a playful glare. “I know what I’m doing, Girard.” Turning back to the cake, he presses at the frosting with the wooden spoon. “I like the frosting to be thick,” he mumbles.

“It’s buttercream. It’s very rich, and…” I trail off when he scoops another giant lump of frosting from the bowl. “Oh my god, Logan. That’s way too much!”

Keeping his eyes fixed on the cake, he smiles to himself, clearly amused by my outburst. In an obvious effort to annoy me, he scoops another lump of frosting, this one nearly double the size of the last.

Standing up straighter, I lower my chin to give him my death stare. “Don’t move another inch.”

He stills at the command, the spoon hovering above the cake. Mischief lurks in his eyes.

“Hand that spoon over now.” The words are a hiss though my clenched teeth.

He turns to me slowly, a faint smile quirking one side of his mouth. Not trusting him for a second, I narrow my eyes as he slowly extends the full spoon in my direction. Just as I reach my hand up to grab it, he jerks forward, ramming it into my chest. I gasp as the cool frosting drips down the crevice between my boobs. My lips part as I glance down at the spoon just before it falls to the floor, leaving behind a glob of brown sludge on my chest. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

His smile grows. He shrugs as he says, “You were asking for it.”

I look at the glob as it seeps into the white fabric of my brand-new seduction dress and then back at him. “And you’re asking to be punished.”

His wicked grin falters. He stares at me for several seconds in a look I can’t quite decipher.

A sad look.

“Oh god, Lani. I’ve missed you so much.”

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