Page 42 of Cream and Punishment
Nothard, obviously. Just enough to wipe the unveiled interest off her face, that’s all.
The door closed as they retreated, but their giggling carried through the air, nonetheless. I scooped the batter into the first cupcake liner with more gusto than necessary. If my suspicions were correct, Catie wasn’t done with Max yet. Not even close.
fifteen
Sureenough,whenMaxbrought the next batch of croissants to the display case, he didn’t return as quickly as he had before. Catie’s flirtatious laughter drifted on the air.
The sticky claws of jealousy dug into my chest. Of all the emotions, I think I hated jealousy the most. It felt hopeless. It made me feel icky and resentful toward people I normally liked just fine, and for what? It’s not like I could do or say anything to make someone choose me. Mom and Dad had chosen to travel the world. Lex had chosen the FBI. And Dominick… he’d chosen drugs.
I wasn’t worth staying for, I guess.
I finished filling the muffin tins and limped to and from the nearest ovens until they were all loaded. I winced as an invisible bear trap snapped around my ankle with each step. Feeling jealous didn’t do any good, and especially not when it was over someone I had no business feeling possessive of in the first place. Max could do whatever with whomever he liked. Up until last night, I’d been convinced he hated my guts. Now, we were friends.
Justfriends.
He was my sister’s coworker, for one, and a million times out of my league for another. Family excluded, he was as off-limits as possible.
I busied myself with icing the cinnamon rolls while the muffins baked. The familiar motions were calming, the tangy icing smooth as it spread across the spiced and sugared divots. The soothing aroma of cinnamon filled my nostrils, the pleasant warmth from the buns enough to soften the icing without melting it away. Exactly the way I liked it. Gale preferred thicker, stiffer icing, but she wasn’t here. I could tweak the rolls however I wanted.
It wasn’t until I straightened after coating the last of the rolls that I noticed Max had returned.
I gasped and held a hand to my chest. “Don’t scare me like that!Cheesy potatoes, you’re going to give me a—”
“Heart attack, I know,” he finished from his position leaning against one of the stainless-steel prep tables. His arms were crossed to showcase each toned muscle over his chocolate-smeared apron, and his brow was furrowed in thought.
“No need to make it a goal of yours, geez.” I limped halfway to the dish pit before he caught up to me and took the used spatula from my hand.
“Replacing me already, Chef?”
I busied myself with the next task so I wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes. I hid my emotions about as well as dropping a brussel sprout into a bowl of chocolate truffles, and this particular sprout was one I didn’t want him seeing. “Just keeping busy while Catie worked her magic.”
He set the spatula on the dish pit’s steel counter. “Magic, huh? Is that what you call it?”
“It works great on the customers, so I’d say so.” I smiled coyly at him, praying he wouldn’t be able to see the jealous claws shrinking my heart down a size. “The question is, did it work onyou?”
He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to study me. “Do youwantit to work on me?”
I hopped to the table where the Boston cream donuts were cooled enough to be filled. “Sure.”Lie.“She’s really sweet and everyone seems to like working with her.”
“Everyone” being Britta, Gale, and the other morning shift barista, anyway. I didn’t know Catie well enough to file any grievances, which was super inconvenient when feeling raging jealousy toward her.
Max hummed in thought. “I’m on a dating sabbatical for now, but I’ll keep that in mind for later.”
I paused halfway through stabbing one of the donuts. The relief he hadn’t been hook, line, and sinkered by Catie’s feminine wiles was quickly squashed by dismay.
I kept my voice as even as I could. “A dating sabbatical?”
“Yep.” He donned oven mitts in preparation for taking the muffins out when the timer went off soon. “There are some things I need to figure out before I’m ready to date again.”
I gulped and returned to cutting space for the cream. Stabbing something was strangely therapeutic, honestly. Maybe I’d make only filled donuts the rest of the day, take advantage of the outlet for the onslaught of sensations his statement elicited.
Guilt, writhing like an eel through my gut. Was he still in pain over his broken engagement? Curiosity, like an itch inside my brain. What could he have to figure out that would keep him from dating? Respect, settling like a dusting of snow across my shoulders. It was a mature decision, no matter the reason for choosing it. For someone as friendly as Max, choosing loneliness over entering a relationship before he was emotionally ready couldn’t be easy. And, finally, rejection, like tar filling my chest.
Sure, I’d never asked him out, so he hadn’t officially rejected me. But that hadn’t stopped my traitor heart from reaching for him anyway. Hoping. Daydreaming about the impossibilities, about how things could be different if I hadn’t been the straw that broke his engagement-camel’s back, if he didn’t work with my sister every day, if he’d ever see me as anything more than a charity case constantly in need of saving.
“It’s not because I’m still pining for Vicky,” he rushed to assure me, my facial expressions throwing my secrets out like candy in a parade. Like always. “The break-up just made me realize I’d been so obsessed with theideaof being in love that I didn’t even know what lovewas. I decided it wouldn’t be fair to any future partners if I didn’t figure that out before dating them, you know? I didn’t want a repeat.”
I stabbed each donut for all I was worth. “So it’s not a forever thing, then?”
