Page 13 of Cupcake
I bit back my laughter, figuring it wise to listen to her rather than make fun of her. “What about the tulips?”
The sound she made was a cross between a snort and a gag. “His name is Tieg Tulip. He wanted me to carry them around with us during the date, so people knew who gave them to me.”
“Where does Amber find these guys?” I asked in confusion. “I assume Amber set you up.”
Haylee held her arms out. “Oh yes, and she wouldn’t let me cancel when she sprung it on me last minute.”
“There are a few bits of good news here, cupcake,” I assured her when we reached the bakery.
“I sure hope so because the last hour has been nothing but pain.”
I unlocked the door and ushered her in. “The first bit of good news is that there isn’t a thing wrong with the oven.”
She wiped her hand across her brow and sighed. “Definitely good news.”
I led her toward the back of the bakery and motioned her toward the bench. “The second bit of good news is, you just eliminated one more guy that you don’t want to marry.”
She burst out laughing. It was the kind of laughter that made my groin react instantly. God, she was stunning, and all of these dopeheads didn’t even realize it. “That is the best news of all.”
My finger went up into the air. “Actually, the best news of all is that we’re both free, it’s only six-thirty, and we have the bakery to ourselves.”
“For?” she asked perplexed.
“A trial batch of the newest fluffy cupcake. Strawberry cheesecake sorbet.”
She grabbed an apron off the hook and tied it around her waist, a smile plastered on her face. “I like the way you think, Brady Pearson. Let’s get our cupcake on!”
The high five I gave her before I jogged to the cooler was in place of the kiss I wanted to plunk on her sweet, plump, kissable lips. One day, I would find a way to kiss Haylee Davis without getting slapped, so I’d bide my time with cupcakes—for now.
Six
Ilicked the frostingoff my fingers and grinned at the man across from me. “So?” I asked, the mess around us ignored while I waited for his verdict on the cupcake.
Brady moaned low in his throat, and the pleasure written on his face said eating my cupcake was as orgasmic as making love was. I bit back laughter. Eating my cupcake. Was that some subconscious Freudian thing?
Probably.
