Page 17 of The Sweetmate
She twists her lips and then answers, “I’ve always been a hype girl. I don’t enjoy being in the spotlight, but I love showcasing someone else. I enjoy being the person who is in your corner and your biggest supporter. I want to take all of my clients to the next level, to help them reach their full potential.”
“Wow. I’m sold. I was already, but now I’m even more excited.”
Lisa is all about others. She doesn’t even realize how much more endearing that makes her. Watching her talk about her passion for elevating others is one of the hottest things I’ve ever witnessed. I understand what it’s like to want to bring others joy; I do it with my recipes.
Lisa chews the corner of her lip as color enters her cheeks. She said she doesn’t like being the center of attention, so my praise has made her uncomfortable.
“Thank you.” Her voice comes out as a gentle whisper. However, when she speaks again, it’s firm and carries no nonsense.“If there’s one thing you’d like to get out there in the world, what would it be?”
I have to take a moment to adjust how quickly she can switch from soft and willowy to a take-no-prisoners persona. “Allow boys to bake without question.”
Confusion crosses her face. “I don’t understand.”
“Boys can bake. It doesn’t make them less manly to bake cupcakes.”
“There are plenty of male chefs in the world. World-famous men who are well respected. Could you elaborate on what your mission is?”
“I’m talking about younger boys. The ones who when they first express that they’d rather bake than play sports become the subject of unwanted attention. That’s what I want. That’s what I want to represent and be an inspiration for. I want to help other boys overcome the stigma that baking is feminine.”
Lisa’s stare lingers on me as she remains silent. Her eyes feel as though they’re beginning to peel away layers of my skin. I’m uneasy under such scrutiny.
Finally, she says, “You’re speaking from personal experience. You probably had to face some teasing?”
“Teasing.” A humorless chuckle leaves me. “Try constantly being referred to as a ‘domesticated male.’ Like I’m a stray they’ve caught and house-trained.” I grab my glass of water off the table in front of me and down it. “All my friends ruthlessly teased me when I chose the cooking classes and home economics courses in junior high and high school. What jock cooked? I’d claim it was to be with a certain girl or something, but of course, rumors were spread that I didn’t even like girls. Because I enjoyed baking? What the hell did that have to do with where I stuck my dick? And what did it fucking matter?”
I stand up and begin pacing the room. “The worst was my father.” I pause. I’ve never confessed what happened with my dad toanyone.I clear my throat and shrug. “He thought it was stupid.”
“Did something happen?”
“Nope.” We’re not going to discuss my father. I should’ve never let that slip. Lisa was right, we need boundaries. That area’s a hardnofor me. “Anyway, I want to show that baking should be enjoyed by all. There’s no gender in the kitchen. And chefs can be just as sexy and hot as any athlete.”
“Casey—”
“Do you know the richest chef in the world is male? What’s really interesting is that he makes a staggering amount of money, more thananyathlete. Even the second richest celebrity in the world is also a chef, and he makes as much as top-paying athletes.”
She reaches over and places a hand on top of mine. “You can talk to me.”
“I am talking to you.” I slowly ease my hand from under hers. “Football was the sport most of my friends obsessed over.” My lips curl into a devious smirk. “Ask me how much I make versus how much they make as a high school football coach.”
“How much?” Her returning smile is infectious.
“I don’t want to brag, but let’s say my paycheck has a few more zeros behind it.”
Lisa taps her pen against her notebook. “Have you thought about speaking at schools?”
“What?”
“A guest speaker at high schools. You said you want to influence young people and be an inspiration. Go to them. Be there for the kid who might be having a hard time due to their confectionery creations.”
“Confectionery creations,” I repeat.
We chat more about strategies for my socials, until it’s time to go downstairs to the hotel restaurant. The network execs for this baking competition are mainly interested in the ratings I can pull, but they also want to ensure I’ll be on my best behavior. I zone out most of the conversation, only paying attention when Lisa speaks. Every time any small talk is thrown in, she veers it back to the main topic at hand. She’s all business and not there to make friends. Meanwhile, I can’t stop losing myself in her expressions, passion, and sweet voice.
Why is it that women throw themselves at me at every turn—which is why I’m known as a womanizer—but now the one woman I do want towomanizeor have relations with is completely off-limits? I can’t even be the superficial, glorified asshole that society has made me out to be. Sleeping with my publicist would definitely throw gasoline on the fire my uncle is trying to put out.
Unless…Oh, I’ve come up with the sweetest creation yet.
I lean back in my seat as the waiter places my plate in front of me. I smile up at him and thank him.
