Page 43 of Cream and Punishment
My heart picked itself up off the floor of my rib cage and dusted itself off. Because of course it did. For all the rollercoasters it threw itself onto, it never seemed to learn its lesson.
Don’t even think about it, Dekker, I chided myself, as if I’d ever listened to reason a day in my life.Max is off-limits, sabbatical or not. In fact, think of something neutral instead. Like tax returns. Or the little umbrellas that sometimes come with cocktails.
Max chuckled, the sound nearly lost in the muffin timer’s beep. “I sure hope not. Can’t have the fairytale kind of love my parents have if it is.”
“True that.” I finished piercing the last donut and pulled the tub of vanilla pastry cream I’d mixed yesterday closer. “That’s your end goal?”
“Isn’t it everyone’s?”
I considered the question as I filled a piping bag. Being loved and loving someone in return seemed like the only worthwhile goal in this life. But some people never found their special someone. Ever.
Was it loving someone that gave you fulfillment, or did it come from being lovedbysomeone? From knowing that you existed beyond yourself and that the burnt edges and crunchy bits of yourself were just as wanted as the good parts?
Hattie was single. She seemed happy and fulfilled, too. High on life and ready to take it by the horns. So, maybe romantic love wasn’t the end-all be-all, but something that enriched your life—the peanut butter swirl in the brownie. It made the dessert better, but you could still have a decadent, mouthwatering dish without it.
“I think I’m going to make peanut butter swirl brownies for the treat of the day,” I announced, realizing belatedly that Max was looking at me expectantly.
Cashews and wild rice, he’d asked a question, hadn’t he? And I’d started talking about brownies instead. Because of course I did.
“Sorry.” I grimaced. “To answer your question, I think it’s a good goal to have, but maybe not the be-all and end-all of life.”
He smiled and leaned against a prep table near the now-cooling muffins, not at all bothered by my topic hopping. What a saint. “And is it one ofyourgoals?”
I twisted the piping bag closed. “If I find anyone over the age of seventy willing to date someone with the schedule I have, sure. I’d be game. Most guys aren’t gung-ho to have dinner at four o’clock and end the night by seven thirty.”
Besides, I wasn’trelationship material, as Richard Besserman had so kindly pointed out last year. The most recent date I’d been on, a set-up with one of Kris’ friends, hadn’t gone well. The guy was nice enough and all but had given me some serious side-eye when the only other people at the diner with us were well past their prime. He’d also talked in detail about the process of taxidermying his favorite dog, which was the real reason I’d dipped out the minute I paid my portion of the bill.
“Well, it’s their loss, then,” Max murmured.
My eyes jumped to find his, heat flooding my face when I realized his attention was squarely on me. If he looked at me like that again, my stupid heart wouldn’t just fall for him—it would slash holes in its parachute and do a flip on its way out of the plane.
I quickly returned my focus to filling each donut, relishing the familiar aroma of fried dough and vanilla cream amidst the blueberry and lemon from the muffins. “That’s kind of you.”
“Is it still kind if it’s just being honest?”
I could practically hear theputt-putt-puttof my heart jump-starting the skydiving plane already. “Well, if there can be brutal honesty, I don’t see why there can’t be kind honesty.”
“Good point.”
Long after the whir of steaming milk and the fragrance of freshly ground coffee filled the bakery, I pulled the peanut butter swirl brownies from the oven as Max returned from restocking the chocolate cake donuts up front.
I fanned my face and offered an exhausted smile. Quincy would be here any minute to relieve Max, and I was more reluctant to see him go than I cared to admit. Mostly because I was convinced the only thing keeping my body running was pure delusion. Acknowledging the truth didn’t seem worth the risk.
“Thanks again, Max. Really.” I swiped frizzy curls out of my face semi-successfully. “I owe you big time.”
He waved dismissively. “You didn’t accept payment from your friend for the whole donkey thing, so we’re good.”
I snorted my typical piggy snort. “You’re right—Idemandedpayment. In the form of lasagna, in fact.”
He let out a low whistle. “That’s the way to do it right there.”
“In that case, you’re officially invited to dinner. Whenever Hattie pays up, that is.”
“Deal.” He grinned, and I could feel my heart tightening the straps on its parachute.
Uh-oh. If he stuck around any longer, I’d be a goner. And how couldn’t I? Max was the type of guy who deserved whole-hearted devotion and would earn it without trying to. Even when he’d explicitly said he wasn’t looking to date anyone, my foolish sucker of a heart would chase him anyway—jump out of the plane anyway, if only I’d let it.
Which I most certainly wouldnot.
