Page 6 of Unwrapped

“Sugar & Spice.”

“Cute.” I chuckle and a pink blush creeps up her delicate neck. My cock instantly stirs, my brain wondering how far that blush goes down her chest. I wince at the thought, guilt creeping in. This isn’t a woman in a bar I’m attempting to pick up, this is Ivy Calloway—a woman that wants my input, not my dick.

“So you said you’ve been running this business for years, did it start in college?”

“Thanks and yes, we’ve actually been running this holiday cookie business out of my apartment for years, and we finally decided it’s time to make it official. Well, technically— “she gestures, her movements growing more confident—“I started it by making holiday cookies in my dorm during finals to relieve stress, which led into cookies for big game days when I would bake too many or someone’s birthday.” She sighs, “and then the frat boys found out and unknowingly blew up my business by telling all their friends while they smoked weed.”

“Really?” I laugh, my head falling back as I picture a group of stoned-as-fuck frat boys banging on her door, begging for cookies.

“Yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “It was a crazy time which is why I roped Tessa into helping me.”

“They ever get you to smoke with them?” I joke but her cheeks flush again, “Oh? Little Miss Good Girl Ivy Calloway smoked weed in college?”

“I never said I did,” she smiles, attempting to keep a straight face before bursting into laughter. “Okay, okay, maybe once or twice but it made me too hungry. I was eating my baking supplies so it wasn’t going to work.”

I’m laughing so hard my belly hurts at this point. “Well shit, I never imagined you breaking the rules at all, let alone the law.”

She shrugs, a playful smirk on her face, “I guess I grew up a little in college.”

“I guess you did.” I don’t mean for the words to sound seductive, but they do. I also don’t mean for my eyes to linger on hers, dropping down to her perfectly shaped lips either, but they do.

“Once we both saw the kind of money we could make from it, we decided to try and do it every year, making enough money that we were both able to pay down a significant amount of our student loans before we even graduated. And the best part was—is, we both love it, it’s truly our dream.”

“Damn, sounds like Zane and I could have probably taken some advice from you two when starting our business.”

“I doubt that.” She blushes again, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You two seem to be light-years ahead of us… which is why I’m here.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” I smile. “Apart from any advice I might be able to give you, it’s nice to see you again and reconnect.” Her eyes shift nervously away from mine for a second and I worry I’ve been a little too bold. But something tells me that the energy I’m feeling between us, goes both ways. “How have you been otherwise?”

“Good.” She nods. “Pretty focused on the business up till now, so not much has changed for me since college. You?” I watch her throat constrict as she swallows, she’s nervous.

I wonder if this is our way of each of us trying to sniff out if there’s a significant other in each other’s life. “Good.” I nod, our eyes lingering on each other. “Pretty focused on work as well.” I laugh. “Actually,” I admit, “completely focused on nothingbutwork sadly.”

“I guess what they say is true, then—you have to be willing to make sacrifices for what you really want.”

“I’d say that’s pretty accurate, but I’d like to think it won’t be this way forever—for either of us.” Her smile is slight, her hands nervously tangling with each other again. “Anyway,” I say, sitting more upright in my chair, “back to your business. Tell me about your recipe process. I’m curious how you went from chemistry to baking.”

Her eyes light up again, her expression becoming more animated as she launches into a twenty-minute monologue all about her process, how she discovered her love for it, and her favorite flavor profiles.

She’s passionate about it—I can see it in the way her eyes light up when she talks about their recipes, how she leans forward just a little when describing the concept for their bakery. It’s infectious, and I find myself wanting to know more, to ask her a thousand questions about the flavors and the process, about what drives her, what makes her happy, how she likes to spend her spare time, if she ever wondered about me all these years the way I wondered about her.

Instead, I focus on keeping things professional, turning the conversation to the details of their business plan.

“And you’ve been profitable since the start?” I ask, impressed.

“Yes. We’ve kept track of all of our financials meticulously over the last five years. I think Tessa sent them over to you along with our business proposal? She manages the business side of things mostly, but we both go over the numbers, budgeting, the ROI, etc. so that we’re on the same page.”

“She did and I spent some time going over them last night, not too in-depth but enough to get an understanding of where you stand.” I nod, leaning back in my chair. “You’ve got some strong ideas here and the numbers to prove it. You obviouslydon’t have a problem with the baking aspect, getting repeat customers and rave reviews. And you both understand it’s smart to expand on what you’ve already built, not making it too complicated. And your niche—traditional recipes with a twist—has potential. But…”

I see her tense, bracing herself for criticism, and I have to fight back a smile, wanting to tell her to relax, that she’s most likely being too hard on herself just like she was in school. Even now, she’s so serious, so determined to prove herself.

“But what?” she asks, her voice carefully controlled.

“You’re underestimating your projected costs. Chicago isn’t cheap, especially if you’re looking to set up in the neighborhoods you’re targeting. Rent, marketing, permits—those numbers add up fast. And the competition is fierce. You’ll need to differentiate yourselves, build a brand that people can’t ignore.”

She’s quiet for a moment, her brow furrowing as she considers my words. Then she nods, a small, determined smile pulling at her lips. “You’re right. It’s something we’re still working on. But we’re ready to put in the work. Tessa’s handling the marketing side, and I’m focusing on the recipes and like I said, both of us helping with operations. It’s a good balance.”

There’s a fierceness in her tone that catches me off guard, and I realize she’s not just trying to convince me—she’s trying to convince herself. It makes me soften, just a little. I know that struggle, of trying your hardest to believe in what everyone else sees in you, even when you’re struggling to see it yourself.

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