Page 38 of Between Love and Loathing
Then he walked back around the counter and sat down to work. He even put those ridiculously hot glasses back on.
That was it? “Why do you keep coming here?”
“Well, we need people to start talking before we’re seen out together.”
I sighed and figured I might as well use him while he was here. “Want to try a mocha?”
“No.” He typed away without looking up at me.
“Do you want to try a cappuccino instead?” He had to want something to drink.
“I’ll take coffee black if you have it.”
Of course he wanted something with no flavor in it. I wasn’t here to deliver him what he wanted though. What I handed him in his cup today was going to be what I was going to hand him with my bakery: something he never thought he needed.
I turned on the frother and let the rhythmic sound soothe my scattered thoughts of handling him here. It was difficult to feel his presence through my soul while I worked, and worry over him judging my every step. I fell into step when I knew that adding the syrup and chocolate and caramel at just the right time was necessary with the espresso and frothed milk. Within minutes, I smiled down at the cup. It was perfect, and I’d be damned if he thought less of it as I set it down in front of him.
When his eyes flicked over to the concoction, I saw his large hand tense into a fist and then his jaw muscle popped.
“You’ll love it, I promise,” I said before I went back to the kitchen and got to work. There were a million different things I had to bake. “If you’re going to keep coming here, you might as well try some things.”
I started with a breakfast sandwich, making sure to grab the paprika for my homemade hollandaise. “Everyone in Florida loves this sandwich, I swear.”
There went his humming again. When I brought out the sandwich and set it in front of him, I saw he’d finished half his drink.
No comment though. Next, I cooked up bacon but added cracked pepper and a dollop of honey. When I took that out to him, the sandwich was gone.
He still typed away, without any mention of the food.
We worked most of the day with me talking his ear off. And somehow, I felt lighter, like this worked, like we weren’t completely dysfunctional in my bakery. When I placed three truffles in front of him and he ate every single one in front of me, I waited for the verdict that time.
He didn’t take those eyes off me, and every bite he took bit into my resolve to avoid him. He was delighting in this, probably knew my mouth was watering as he licked his lips, that my sex was clenching as I watched him suck his fingers clean, and that my body heated while he hummed around the last bits of dessert. “I like the third one best. Reminds me of how sweet you taste.”
“Dominic,” I warned.
He leaned over the counter. “Your chocolate rivals how sweet your pussy is, baby. If I could marry the two flavors, I’d eat your truffles every day … and I don’t even like indulging in chocolate.”
My mind scrambled every which way at his freaking dirty mouth before it hooked on to one thing. “Wait. You don’t like chocolateat all?”
He chuckled before shoving away from the counter, closing his laptop and saying, “That’s not what I said. I said I don’t like to have it. Put everything you served me on the menu.”
“So it’s good enough?” I lifted an eyebrow, wanting to admit he liked something.
“It’ll do.” Of course he couldn’t say it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, little fighter. Same time, same place. Pick out the color of dishes you want and send the request to Rita.”
With that he was gone.
CLARA
Other managers got curious enough that Dominic kept coming around. Paloma’s texts ended with a lot of exclamation points about the boss being in my bakery.
Then, she finally stopped in one day and just wide-eyed us both and then mouthed to me, "You owe me an explanation.” When Dominic looked up, she smiled and backed away fast.
“They’re all scared of you,” I announced.
“Rightfully so.”
“No,” I countered. “You’re supposed to be helping the team come together in the final days before we open so we have a cohesive brand, look, and flow.”
