Page 6 of Painting Him Mine

“Did you bake it yourself?”

He snorted like it was a ridiculous question. “Definitely not. If I baked it, fate would never accept it because I’m a disaster in the kitchen. I leave that up to the professionals.”

“Well, it seems like I need to start taking lessons on fate’s cake code if I want to get ahead in this world.” I leaned over to grab a tissue from my nightstand to clean off my stomach when something occurred to me that made me laugh. “Wow, talk about a coincidence. Maybe there’s some truth in your theory.”

I could almost hear his grin through the phone. “What makes you say that?”

“I ordered two vanilla cake pops with my coffee at the café.”

He laughed with delight. “That’s perfect! Absolutely perfect. I told you, it’s a little-known fact that fatelovescake.”

“I’ll have to remember next time I need help with something in the future.”

“Speaking of the future, what do you say to us starting ours together by meeting up tomorrow night?”

In my orgasmic haze, he could have asked me to elope with him, and I probably would have agreed after such a strange andmagical evening with him. “I think it sounds like the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”

Chapter Six

EZRA

I was almost giddywith excitement by the time Mauricio knocked on my door the next night for our date. I opened it to reveal a walking wet dream. Somehow, he was even more attractive in person than he was in his photos online. It looked like a model had stepped off the runway and into my apartment. He was stunning in a teal floral-print blazer with a black shirt underneath, paired with white pants. In his hands, he held a large box. I couldn’t wait to find out what was inside it.

“Hello, handsome.” I stepped back to let him enter my apartment.

“Good evening, gorgeous,” he retorted in his smooth baritone that liquified my insides. The hint of a smirk tugging at his full lips made me want to kiss the hell out of him. However, I was trying to show a little restraint so I wouldn’t scare him off by coming on too strong. Then again, if the day before had been any indication, maybe coming on hot and heavy was the way to go with him?

Shutting the door behind us, I pointed to what he was holding. “What’s in the box?”

He held it up with a grin. “I brought cake.”

I had promised myself I wouldn’t act with impropriety, but his adorable gesture lit my fire. Since he was significantly taller than me, I tugged on the lapels of his blazer to bring him down for an appreciative kiss. He won major points for allowing me to stay in control as I staked my claim on his lips with passionate need.

Amusement shone in his green eyes when we parted. “It appears that fate isn’t the only one who appreciates cake.”

“Oh, Ilovecake.”And I love you for bringing one, I mentally added. “What kind is it?”

He set the box down on my kitchen counter and opened it. I gasped as he revealed a beautiful bouquet of pink, red, blue, and purple roses, along with colorful peonies. “It’s a Korean buttercream flower cake.”

I tried to wrap my mind around what he said. “Wait, are you telling me that those flowers are made ofbuttercream? They look real!”

“Yes, and they’re delicious.”

It was difficult to suppress my urge to touch one of them as a test. The petals were so soft and delicate; it was impossible to believe that they weren’t real. “I’ve never said this before, but it’s almost too beautiful to eat. That’s not a cake. It’s a work of art.”

“Thank you.”

My jaw dropped as I stared at him, shocked by what his response implied. “Wait, did you make this yourself?”

“I did.” He beamed with pride, which he damn well should with the amount of skill it must have taken to create such realistic decorations. “I’ve always enjoyed baking and making icing roses. When I discovered the impressive artistry of Korean buttercream flowers, I took some classes to learn how to do them myself. We should put it in the fridge for later.”

“I’m going to let you do it because I’m too scared I’ll drop it.” I was a little too klutzy to be comfortable with taking that risk.

He laughed as he shut the lid and carried the box over to my fridge. When he saw inside, he glanced back at me with a single arched eyebrow. The simple gesture drove me wild with lust. “This is like the intersectionality of a starving artist and bachelorhood gone wrong.”

I grinned. “Yeah, I know it’s bad. But I get so busy with my art I forget about food. Combine that with being lazy and hating cooking, it’s pretty much just an ancillary thing I do to survive.”

He slid the cake inside and shut the door. “You’d feel differently if you had good food to enjoy.” Coming back over to me, he wrapped an arm around my waist to pull me flush against him. “I’d be more than happy to cook for you.”

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