Page 6 of Playoffs & Promises

"What are those?" Lou asks me.

Turning to look I see him pointing at the corner with an old wooden bookshelf I'd inherited from my grandmother. It's full of my homemade vanilla and cinnamon extracts as they wait to be used in my bakery. It's my secret weapon in my goal towards getting a blue ribbon. An award like that will finally show my parents that I'm not wasting my time and money.

"Nothing," I tell him.

His expression lets me know that he doesn't accept my answer, but that doesn't mean that I'll be giving him anything more. For a moment we're in a silent standoff, and I let it grow awkward as I wait for him to fold to the pressure. Instead, he simply continues looking around my kitchen, taking it all in, and then his focus zeros in on the plate of cookies in a clear container on the counter. The Mexican wedding cookies are covered in powdered sugar, and I watch his gorgeous honey-brown eyes as they transform from calculating to pleading.

With those puppy-dog eyes staring at me he asks, "Are those cookies?"

"Yes." I tell him. Steeling myself for the inevitable ask.

"May I have one?" he asks.

"They're for book club," I tell him as I smile sweetly up at him. "Sorry, members only."

"The same book club my sister is a part of?"

The calculating look is back in his eyes, and my curiosity wants to find out what he's thinking. Did he think I was making the book club up as an excuse to deny him cookies?

"Yes," I say hesitantly. "That's the one."

"Well since she's moved I volunteer to eat her portion. Wouldn't want you to have cookies go to waste."

"They don't go to waste." I protest. "Any extras I usually send home with someone."

"Well I'm someone, and they can go home with me. I promise to give them a good home and offer them the respect a cookie of their caliber deserves. I can even provide references to attest to my capability of appreciating good food."

"Oh no you don't." I plant my hands on my hips. "You are not going to use your trickery or flirtiness to get my cookies."

"Flirtiness?" His eyes go big and innocent, and then he leans in close.

He's so close that I can tell he smells of lemons and feel his breath on my ear, and my face starts to get hot. For all that I say against Lou, there's no denying that if I had to pick the hottest hockey player on the team, he'd be it. Hands down, no questions, Lou is one of the most handsome men I've ever seen, but his personality had to go and ruin it.

He whispers, "Is this how you flirt Maria? Because it could use some work. Although I'd be happy to discuss it over a plate of cookies."

I can feel steam ready to burst from my ears like a cartoon character. Stomping my foot, I point towards the front door. "Out."

He backs away slowly with his hands lifted in surrender, "I'm just trying to try some of the incredible food I know you make. It's not fair that all my friends and teammates get to have some and I don't."

"You know darn well that you are banned from my food." I'd feel bad for the ban, except that he totally earned it.

The calculating gleam is back in his intelligent eyes. "A ban you haven't enforced on my lemon bars so it doesn't make sense to ban me from everything else."

"An error I promise to correct," I tell him, adding extra emphasis to the word promise.

He sighs heavily, and if I thought the pleading puppy-dog eyes were difficult to resist, the hurt in his eyes almost makes me want to reconsider. Until I remind myself that he's the reason I didn't get the blue ribbon the day we met. I start looking for something to throw at him, and strongly consider picking up a bag of the lemons.

"I don't know why you hate me so much, Maria. I hardly deserve it."

My teeth are still grinding together by the time he's walked out my door and I hear the door to his apartment close. Of course, he doesn't think he deserves it. He's too self-absorbed to see the harm he leaves behind him. I open one of the bags of lemons to start checking for bruising. The fruit is an innocent victim of Lou's actions, just like me.

Book club night is just what I need to take my mind off of the pile of lemons and the hot hockey player next door. Charlotte listens to me rant during the drive to the bookstore.

"My flirtiness Charlotte. He said I needed to work on my flirtiness."

She's smirking as she checks her rearview mirror and pulls out into traffic. "And how, pray tell, were you flirting with him?"

"I wasn't." I throw my hands up in the air and almost knock the container of cookies off my lap.

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