Page 72 of The Dating Ban
“Can you, though?”
She gasps, mock-offended. “Excuse you! I am a highly intelligent woman.”
“I don’t doubt that.” I say, amused. “But intelligence and baking are two very different skill sets. One requires precision, patience, and an ability to follow instructions.”
She waves a hand. “Alright, calm down, Paul Hollywood.”
I smirk. “Do you even own a measuring scale?”
Her lips press into a line.
“A set of mixing bowls?”
A beat.
I tap the counter. “Ivy.”
She exhales through her nose. “I may have also panic-bought those today.”
I fight back a laugh. “That inspires a lot of confidence.”
She sits up straighter, lifting her chin. “I have to do this, okay? It’s for a Macmillan coffee morning at work.”
I prop myself against the counter, arms crossed. “You do know you can just buy a cake at the coffee morning, right? That’s kind of the point. You show up, eat cake, donate some money, feel like a good person, and leave.”
Ivy scoffs. “Yes, obviously. But that’s not the issue.”
I lift a brow. “Oh? And what is the issue?”
She exhales through her nose. “Caroline.”
I frown. “Who’s Caroline?”
Ivy rolls her eyes like I should already know. “A colleague. Smug. Bakes effortlessly. Probably has a tin with secret family recipes.”
I smirk. “Sounds like a menace.”
“She is a menace,” Ivy says, pointing at me for emphasis. “She made jabs, Theo. Jabs about how I probably can’t bake because I’m not a mum.”
“Okay, she is a bit of bitch, I get it. That mum comment was entirely unnecessary.”Actually it was fucking ridiculous.My mother can’t bake even if you pay her, yet she is an amazing, if also crazy, mum. “But at the risk of drawing your wrath on me, you can’t bake.”
“That’s not the point.” She flaps a hand. “The point is, I refuse to give her the satisfaction of being right. I am a fully functional adult. I can make a sodding cake.”
I nod solemnly. “I admire your determination. Misguided as it is.”
Ivy ignores my comment entirely, her eyes suddenly lighting up with something suspiciously close to excitement. She leans forward, gripping the edge of the counter. “Do you want to know what else I bought?”
I sip my coffee, studying her. “Considering the sheer volume of those bags, I’m almost afraid to ask.”
She grins, practically vibrating with energy now. “A tent.”
“A tent?” I cough.No, no, no, not a good idea.
“And a backpack!” She gestures at the largest bag beside her, the one that looks like it could fit an entire kitchen inside. “That’s why the bags are so huge. I’m going camping.”
I stare at her. “You?”
“Yes, me,” she says, lifting her chin like she’s just announced she’s scaling Everest.
