Page 66 of Cream and Punishment
A muscle flickered in Max’s jaw, his features uncharacteristically stony and his eyes sharp as obsidian. Still, he listened.
“It was an okay date, just a simple dinner, but there wasn’t any chemistry.” Literally none. A freezer at zero degrees Kelvin—if that were possible—would have more chemical reactions going on than there were between Besserman and me. “So when he asked me out again, I told him I didn’t see it going anywhere, and that continuing to date my employee wasn’t a very professional practice to have.”
It had kept me up all night, planning how to let him down easy when confrontation terrified me. I’d rehearsed the script countless times, fine-tuned each word to make sure it wouldn’t come across as anything personal against him.
Max worked his jaw back and forth, as if chewing over my words. “And how did he react to that?”
I flung my arms up in a helpless gesture, nearly sending my poor earbud on an airborne tour of the laundry room. “At first he seemed to handle it great. He agreed and I thought that was that.”
I shuddered, partly from rage, partly from shame as the memories continued pouring in. My stomach churned and my legs itched to pace the room. “The next day, Besserman quit, and another employee showed me an article that had been published online about me and my bakery. It was technically anonymous, but I knew it had to be Besserman who wrote it. Or he was the informant for the actual writer, I guess.”
The headline had burned itself into my brain since that day.Why will Double Dekker Cakery never make it past the double digits? The answer is in the name.Sure, we’d technically been number ten on the list of top ten bakeries, but considering how new we were and how many bakeries there were in Pittsburgh, that was still an accomplishment.
“It talked about how my bakery was destined to be mediocre, even with its delicious treats, becauseIwas the one running it. What bakery could succeed with a boss who dates her subordinates, disregards situations that would lead to potential lawsuits, and is too cheap to update her kitchen appliances?”
The adjectives Besserman had used came to mind, and I scrunched my eyes against them as they prickled with the familiar threat of tears.Scatter-brained. Irresponsible. Careless.
Max’s voice sizzled with more anger than I thought him capable of. “Are those other accusations as bogus as the dating one?”
I shrugged, my chin trembling as I peeked at Max’s stormy expression. “He wasn’t wrong. I’d bring all the leftovers we couldn’t use to soup kitchens at the end of the day. Technically, since I can’t guarantee that they’ll handle the food properly, someone could get food poisoning or something and sue me or my bakery.”
It was the very reason the hotel I worked at during culinary school gave for why they tossed their leftovers instead of donating them or giving them away, and I’d always thought it was bogus. The odds of getting any kind of food poisoning from a pastry were incredibly low. Maybe when it came to mousses or desserts that needed to be refrigerated, but most of what I gave away were donuts, breads, and cakes. To me, the risk was worth it.
“As for the kitchen appliances” —my cheeks heated in shame— “one of my ovens was ancient and temperamental. I had to decide whether to upgrade it or give my employees Christmas bonuses.”
“And you chose the bonuses,” Max finished.
I nodded, swallowing hard in an attempt to take the lump that had formed in my throat with it. “Some businesswoman I am, huh?”
“I think the world needs more businesswomen like you, Dekker.”
I snorted and swiped at my eyes, which were thankfully still dry. “Try telling that to the residents of Pittsburgh. Business took a hit immediately. And when I confronted Besserman” —I paused, reigning in my emotions, my voice quivering— “he denied writing the article, though he agreed with everything it said. When I argued thatIwas the one who didn’t want to keep dating each other because it was weird as his boss, he told me I wasn’t relationship material anyway, so he wouldn’t waste his time with me, either.”
That had been the kick when I was already down. In the span of a few days, Besserman had managed to target my pride and joy, rip it up, and then prey on my personal insecurities all in one go.
A washer buzzed angrily two rows away. I focused intently on the ceiling, my earbud twisting faster and faster between my fingers. “I guess that was the last straw. If business kept declining, I’d have to let employees go. I was already so lonely anyway with my parents traveling the world and Lex here in Detroit, so selling the one thing that had been keeping me in Pittsburgh didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore. I figured the bakery was better off without such a failure running it.”
The bakery deserved better. My employees deserved better. I’d shut down after those two days from Hell, barely able to pull myself out of bed to work at the place that used to give me so much purpose. The place failing before my eyes as I struggled to do even the simplest managerial tasks. Cutting myself free from it seemed like the only solution. But since leaving it behind, I’d often wondered if I’d only slapped duct tape on a leaky pipe.
“Hey.” Max shuffled to face me completely, his crossed legs now brushing my knee. “You didn’t fail. Not even close.”
I shook my head, stubborn tears pooling along my lashes. “If I’d never accepted that date or brought the food to the soup kitchens, or if I’d upgraded that stupid oven, my bakery could’ve done better—and that’s not even considering all the boss duties I couldn’t handle.” My voice fell to a whimper, nearly drowned out by the whirring of the washers and tumbling of the dryers. “It’s my fault, Max.”
“No. It isn’t.”
I paused at the strength of his voice, the surety in his tone. The sheerauthoritythat made tendrils of heat curl in my belly. This was his Special Agent Fuentes voice. It had to be. It left no room for argument, even if I wanted to.
“This Besserman guy is not only a donkey” —he did not saydonkey— “but wrong on all accounts. You’re a great bakery owner because you care about your employees, something there isn’t enough of, if you ask me.” He wiped away an errant tear, his touch as comforting as it was torturous. Allowing the smallest taste of the forbidden fruit before it disappeared from reach. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re perfect relationship material.”
Salted caramel and fudge nuggets, how was I supposed to cope with him saying something like that without melting into putty in his hands? Fate was testing my self-control today, and I was quickly losing the battle. One word from him. That was all it would take, and I’d be his.
His gaze strayed to my mouth before darting back up. As if realizing he’d scooted closer, he surreptitiously leaned back on his hands, safely out of my reach. “After all, you’ll never cheat. You’re too busy sleeping.”
“Hey!”
My jaw dropped, and I lunged for him. Originally with the intent to cuff him playfully for his razzing, but that plan fizzled faster than Pop Rocks in water when my overzealousness sent me to my knees. At the same time, my hands reflexively slapped down to support my weight.
Unfortunately, they didn’t hit the floor like I’d intended.
