Her gaze hits me, and her lips part. I wouldn’t go so far as to say her mouth falls open, but she is gawking. “The type of cookies?” She repeats me like she must’ve heard wrong. She crosses her legs and leans forward. “Let me get this straight. You would consider dating a woman, exclusively, I might add, by the type of cookies she gave you?”
“I think that’s simplifying things a bit.”
“Maybe, but I need to boil this down to the bare essence of what you’re saying. It’s important research—life or death of my business. Okay, that might be taking it a bit far, but this is valuable information, so humor me while I dig deeper.” She sits, pulling her shoulders back. “What do cookies mean to you?”
“Sugar means I can take her home to meet my parents, but it’s going to be a long wait to take it to the next level physically.” Resting back on the palms of my hands, I cross my ankles of my outstretched legs. “Oatmeal signifies a homebody. It’s a good thing to steer clear of if you like to party. But oatmeal raisin, that’s a whole other story. That’s a girl who likes adventure. Works hard, plays hard type.”
Her chin lowers as she stares at me. “You’re blowing my mind. Also, I think you’re building up to the biggies, and I’m on pins and needles.”
“What are the biggies?” She never ceases to surprise me, so I can’t wait to hear this breakdown.
“Peanut butter, snickerdoodles, and gingersnaps. Chocolate chip being the top dog of the cookie world.”
“Cool,” I reply casually, obviously forgetting about gingersnaps. “We’re on the same page.” So my ego’s large enough to lie a little. Does it really matter in the end that I forgot gingersnaps?No, it does not.
“What do snickerdoodles mean to you?”
I lay it all out in more thought than I realized I had on the topic. “It’s not just to me, but I feel confident enough to speak for men as a whole.” A smile tickles her lips, but she keeps her laughter detained in her throat. “Although they have a place in the biggies list, it’s really just wise to steer clear. Snickerdoodles are for grandmas. Delicious, but those cookies will never get a chick a second date. Not with Grandma’s dentures getting stuck in the soft snickerdoodle.”
“What about peanut butter?”
“Those are tricky little bastards. If there’s not an allergy involved, they conjure good things—like sex in front of a fireplace on a winter’s night or staying in on Sunday morning and hanging out in bed reading the paper and then napping.”
Her brow furrows, making her more adorable than she already is. “Does anyone read the paper anymore or just read the news on their phones?”
“That’s what I mean. Peanut butter conjures reminiscent images of yesteryear. There’s a feeling of peace, of home, with those images. Whether they happen though is still a mystery.”
“This is the best conversation I’ve had in years. I should be taking notes.”
“I’ll wait while you get your phone.”
I’m popped in the leg. “You’re ridiculous. Now tell me about gingersnaps.” Her eyebrows waggle.
“They’re the cookie version of the stereotype of a redhead—fiery, passionate, that sugar taste with a bit of a kick. Great sex and fatal attraction. That’s a gingersnap.”
“Like the movie?”
With a somber nod, I reply, “Boiling rabbits and all.”
“Yikes.”
Clapping my hands together to bring this to a close, I end up startling her. She grabs over her heart. “My God?—”
“You can call me Nick or sexy, even keep the smug in there for your liking.”
“Ha. Very funny. Let’s wrap this up. I’m now craving cookies, thanks to you.”
“I’m not the one who brought this up. I’m just the one letting you into the psyche of a typical American man.”
“There’s nothing typical about you, or I wouldn’t be here.”
“I’ll take the compliment. As for the king of cookies—chocolate chip?—”
“Can’t wait to hear your thoughts on those.”
“Don’t let them fool you. Most will go straight for the chocolate chip, but that’s a trap. Given more thought, you should ask yourself—is it lazy or deliciously insightful? Either way, it’s a risk.”
“Is it, though? I mean, really? Because chocolate is always a win with me.”