Page 15 of The Longshot

She exhales a troubled breath before she paves her way into the kitchen. “Please. Don’t keep calling me that.”

I prop myself up onto the countertop so that I can peer in on her through the kitchen. “No problem, love. How about you tell me your name, and I’ll call you that instead?” I propose flirtatiously.

I can see on her face that she’s about ready to scold me for my new-found chair, but she holds back, refocusing her attention on piping the cake instead. “I don’t talk to strangers,” her voice is hardly above a whisper.

“Well then, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Wilks.” I place a hand on my chest. “See?” I shrug. “Now we’re not strangers anymore.”

“Wilks?” She stops piping and tilts her head to the side in disbelief. “That’s your name? Really?”

It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve had to formally introduce myself to someone. Typically I don’t require an introduction. Everyone knows me. That or they’ve heard of me before.

“Not quite.” I toy with the thought in my mind. “My name is actually Gary. Gary Wilkinson. Wilks is just my nickname. It’s what everyone calls me. It’s what you can call me too if you like. Unless of course you’d like to call me on the phone, which I’d gladly give you my number to.” I wink.

She shakes her head, a playful smirk on her lips as she smooths out the frosting. “You really don’t let up, do you, Gary?”

Gary.

CHELSIE

I’ve had my fair share of men stride their way into this bakery looking for a whole lot more than to satisfy just a sweet tooth, but none have been quite like Gary Wilkinson.

I’ve heard his name before. That or I’ve seen it somewhere. I’m positive. I just can’t put my finger on it.

Usually when I’m pestered by persistent men my quick witted responses throw them off, but amongst all of my comebacks, nothing seems to stump the man ahead of me quite like calling him by his first name.

Gary.

I prefer it to Wilks. Wilks seems like an act. A ploy. The guy he wants people to see versus the man he actually is and not so deep down, I can’t help but believe that’s true.

A quiet falls between us and frankly, it’s peaceful given the absurd number of emotions I feel as a result of his high-spirited energy.

Who does he think he is? Striding his way in here with such an abundance of confidence? All the while, stripping me of mine with one flash of that smile.

I know better than to spend more than a split second fantasizing about just how downright enticing he looks.

Tall.

Fit.

Full of himself.

Fuck… he’s just my type.

But if there is one thing that I know about my type it’s that what you see on the surface does not remotely equate with what lies within.

If I’ve learned anything about guys like “Wilks”, it’s that this is what he wants. He wants me to be over here daydreaming about how fit he is as I’m doing him this so-called “favor”. Hell, he’s probably going to use it as an easy scapegoat to say, “let me make it up to you”.

This pattern is what he wants.

It’s probably what he’s used to.

Good thing breaking free from bad habits has been my thing lately.

I finish piping the perimeter of the cake with the burning gaze of his deep brown eyes staring into me, trying my best to focus. “Do you, uh…” I have to scold myself for getting distracted by his charm. “Want me to write anything on it? A message of some sort?”

Gary juts out his bottom lip, rubbing alongside his forehead as he looks up in thought. “Maybe ‘Welcome Baby Park’?” he suggests.

I nod my head, reaching for my selection of frostings. “Do you know the sex?” I wonder if I should go for the stereotypical pink or blue.

---