I squirmed in my seat, refusing to make eye contact with Amber or Brady. Right now, all they’d see was a sex-starved twenty-nine-year-old woman reflected in my eyes.
“Good God, Haylee. These are incredible. I hope you made enough for tomorrow. They’re going to fly out the door when people get a whiff of them. How do you get them so moist and rich?”
“She uses homemade bonbons,” Amber answered, lifting one from the plate. “See,” she pointed to the tiny bonbons sliced clean through by the knife. She didn’t wait for him to answer, she just took a bite and closed her eyes, savoring the crème de menthe when it hit her tongue.
“I would make these a staple in my diet, but then I’d have to spend another three hours at the gym every week,” Brady agreed.
I huffed at the two of them. “I’m glad you like them, but it’s just a brownie. We make much more complicated confections here than peppermint brownies.”
Brady brushed off his hands and took a swig of coffee to wash down his treat. “Something doesn’t have to be complicated to be top-shelf, Haylee. Finding flavors that complement each other in a simple, non-complicated way, always makes for a winning combination. Don’t forget that.”
I couldn’t help but think the same was true about life and love. Complementing each other’s strengths and weaknesses in the business made us successful at The Fluffy Cupcake. As for complementing each other’s strengths and weaknesses in the bedroom, well, I was now going to try and stop thinking about that before I couldn’t concentrate on anything else.
I put my hand on the catalogs and took a deep breath. “Okay, we’re here for a reason. It’s time to strategize. We’ve done great already with weddings and special orders this year, but we have several more events to go, including the Lake Pendle Strawberry Festival.”
Brady pointed at me. “We should start there.”
Amber agreed while she swiped another brownie. “July tenth is only a month away, and you haven’t even told us what the cupcake would be for the bake-off.”
“It’s a closely guarded secret,” I said, shaking my head. “You know that.”
“True, but if I’m going to help you, I need to know what it is,” Brady reminded me.
I blew out a breath at the thought of him helping me at the bake-off. I spend every day baking with Brady, but the festival atmosphere always changed the charge in the air. It was going to be so much temptation working that close to him for hours. He was all male from his perfectly styled blond hair, his chiseled cheeks covered in a tightly capped beard, and a gym physique that didn’t quit. He had muscles in places I didn’t know you could have muscles. I glanced down at my less than muscular body. Some would say I was fluffy. Some would say the nickname fluffy cupcake fit me to a T. Well, at least Darla McFinkle thought it did.
My hips loved cupcakes, and my ass loved Brady’s artisan sourdough. Since I hated working out and got most of my exercise running around the bakery, lifting heavy pans of cupcakes out of the oven, and walking up and down the thirteen stairs to my apartment, that didn’t help my non-bodybuilder physique. In hindsight, my choice of professions may not have been the best one for my body type. C’est la vie, as they say
“Haylee?” Amber said, and I snapped my head up to stare into their confused faces.
“Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts for a second there.”
Brady was staring at me with intense concentration as if he could see right through me and into my soul. Like he could read my thoughts and know that I was lusting after him like a dopey girl making puppy dog eyes. It was making me uncomfortable, and I wanted it to stop. I grabbed the iPad and opened the photo app, moving the brownies aside so I could set it in the middle of the table.
“I give you the fluffiest of fluffy cupcakes.” I motioned at the image like Vanna White, revealing twenty-five thousand dollars.
Two heads leaned into the table to stare at the image on the screen.
“Stats,” Amber said without taking her eyes off the iPad.
“Time to make,” Brady added, his assessing gaze sweeping across the cupcake in a way that kept me hot and bothered in a way I liked far too much.
“A strawberry cream cheese cupcake, filled with a light strawberry crème filling, topped with a whipped strawberry sorbet icing, and garnished with a cream cheese stuffed strawberry dipped in chocolate.”
Brady sat back and rubbed his hands together. “Oh, it sounds like a winner to me.”
Amber agreed with a nod since she was chewing on another brownie already.
“How are you going to make a sorbet icing, though?” Brady asked. The confusion in his voice was evident as he thought about the heat of a July day.
“I won’t be making it out of sorbet, but it will taste like sorbet. I’m going to make a test batch this week, and you can tell me what you think.”
Amber raised her hand and waved it around wildly, dragging a laugh from both Brady and me with her silliness. He rested his hand over mine for a second and leaned down to make eye contact. “It’s already a winner in my book. I know the judges will feel the same way, cupcake.”
I fought hard not to roll my eyes at the man sitting next to me. His constant habit of calling me cupcake was disrespectful as my employee, but no matter how many times I asked him to stop, he never did.
“It’s going to be stiff competition this year,” Amber said, sipping from her coffee mug. “Darla is entering the bake-off, too.”
This time, I did roll my eyes. I rolled them so hard Brady grabbed the back of my head.