Page 21 of Fated Shot

When he gets into the driver’s seat, I don’t really know what to do, so I rest my hands on my thighs and stare ahead. I can feel him look over a few times, but I’m too nervous to meet his eyes.

I’m beyond grateful when he breaks the silence. “So, I, uh, finished the cookies…” That gets my attention.

“Already? It’s been a day,” I say, turning to him, a smile cracking over my nervous expression.

“I couldn’t help it, besides there were only like eight and I’m a growing boy,” he says, patting his stomach, sheepish grin and all.

“There were thirteen,” I correct, a true baker's dozen. “You’ve gotta learn to savor them! Not to mention they’re about three times the size of a standard cookie.” My head is still shaking in disbelief at the full-grown man in front of me.

“I’m going to need more.”

“You’re going to have to wait a little while. I’m switching up my flavors for next week.”

“That’s cool, I’m not picky. What’s coming up on the menu?”

I pause, thinking for a moment about my planned Saturday release. “Uh, Peanut Butter Chunk, Red Velvet, Cinnamon Swirl, Butter Pecan, Fudge Brownie, and Oatmeal Raisin,” I say, listing them off as I count down with my fingers.

One hand still on the steering wheel, he turns to face me, frown on his face, expression serious.

“Oatmeal Raisin is a fraud of a cookie, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

I balk at him, “I’ll have you know, they’re actually a regular favorite. I have to throw it in every few weeks to keep the die hard fans at bay.”

He stifles a laugh. “The cookie crowd gets particularly rowdy, eh?”

“You’d be surprised,” I reply thinking back to when I removed the Gluten Free Almond Cookies from my website last year. They didn’t sell well and were a pain to make. One of my regulars nearly started a comment brawl on my Instagram in retaliation. I make a mental note to include them in next week’s menu, just for JulesGranolaMom12.

“I think it’s awesome,” he adds, sincerity in his tone.

“Cookie crowd brawls?” I ask.

He shakes his head, smiling to himself. “No, your business. I, uh, followed it on Instagram. The idea, your whole branding, and everything. It’s just… really impressive.”

I feel myself blushing immediately and try to calm my excitement that he not only remembered Cookie & Co but took the time to look it up.

“It’s all really new, I’m still sort of learning what works best but, thank you for saying that.”

“Seriously though, no more Oatmeal Raisin.” I smile at him, feeling my nerves subsiding already.

Chapter 10

Jack

She’s laughing now, which is a good sign, right?

When I knocked on her door and saw what she was wearing, I wasn’t entirely sure I remembered my own name let alone how to hold a conversation. She seems more nervous than usual, but hell, it can’t be anything compared to how I feel. I’ve called to check on our reservation three times today, on the last call they even got the manager on the line to confirm.

I don’t know how any of this works, the dates, dating, or getting to know each other. I’ve kept my circle small, and I’ve never ventured away from it until the day she walked into Cordelia’s and derailed my life in the span of one minute. Now she’s here, sitting in the passenger seat of my car, smelling of peaches and vanilla and looking like a goddamn dream. I steal a quick look over at her, jeans hugging to every curve of her body, thick thighs resting on my leather seats and… NOPE. Bad idea.

I force myself to focus on the road, desperately trying to hide the bulge forming in my jeans. I’m fucking hopeless.

It takes less than ten minutes until we’re pulling up in front of the restaurant. I found a great parking spot just a few steps away. Putting the car in park, I pull up my Green P app and pay, gotta love modern-day conveniences.

“One sec, let me grab your door,” I say to Mia as she reaches for the handle.

Running out, I open the door and help her down. She grabs my hand for just a moment as the contact sends an instant shock of excitement to my system. It’s followed by a thundering crash the moment she drops it to pull her jeans up a little higher on her waist. This rollercoaster of emotions is not me. I’m the one to keep my cool, but there’s a dull ache in my stomach, and my nerves return in an instant. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know I need this to go well.

I try to push down the thoughts that have been plaguing me for the last day as I guide us inside, where we are immediately ushered to our table.

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