Page 9 of Gingerbread Hearts

“Despite feeling like I know you, you’re full of mystery Violet,” I smile wickedly at her, changing my tone to something more playful. I’m hopeful that we can savor this time together.

“It’s a story for another time, or perhaps never. Tell me, have you ever been in a serious relationship?”

I take a moment before replying. I think about all the women I’ve dated these past few years. Almost all of them were just brief stints of dating, and while sex was involved, serious feelings weren’t. At least not on my side.

I’ve never been in a serious relationship.

The realization hits me. I thought maybe perhaps there was one girlfriend that I had truly loved, who I had maybe daydreamed about marrying and growing old together. But there hasn’t been a single girl. I went from dating infrequently in college to sporadic dating in law school. Mainly just shared evenings of drunken stupors or passionate flings. After law school it was straight into the job force. I never slowed down. I never took the time.

“Jake?” Violet pulls me from my spiral. Her hand gently pats mine. The action is simple but comforting. I look into her eyes, the stormy ocean blue holding mine.

“Actually,” I clear my throat and take a sip of wine. “I’ve never been in a serious relationship. Just too busy I guess.” Hoping that the sudden pang of emptiness I feel is masked by tone. “Flings and casual dates are all that fits in my schedule.”

“I understand that feeling. I’m usually only game for a few dates or so. Most people don’t like bakers’ hours anyways.” She shrugs as she finishes her sentence.

We’re both on board with causal hookups or flings. This is good knowledge to have for the rest of my time here in Kastle Harbor.

After this the conversation goes back to more superficial topics as we continue enjoying our meal together. Violet asks me about my grandmother and her party preparations. I ask her about baking and the differences in certain pastries. We seem to be avoiding the heavy topics from earlier. The chatter returning to its once flirtatious tone. Suddenly the waiter is telling us about the dessert options.

Is it really time for dessert? How is the evening already over?

I can’t believe how quickly the date went, even with the argumentative bit.

“Actually,” Violet starts to tell the waiter, “I think we’ll just take the check please.”

My heart sinks a little. I thought the evening was turning around.

As the waiter leaves, Violet leans in, lowers her voice. “I was thinking that as a baker, you could come back to my place and I could teach you a thing or two. You mentioned you don’t really cook since you live in the city.”

Her coy smile pulls me in, hanging on every word she says.

“I think that’s an excellent idea.”

We finish our drinks and wait for the bill.

“Since you’re suppling the baking supplies, I’ll cover dinner,” I tell her as the waiter drops the check off.

We get our coats and make our way to the car. I can feel my heart pounding against my chest as I drive us to her house. Once there she leads me inside and offers to take my coat. I take my sweater off too, draping it over the back of a couch. I start to roll my sleeves up as I hear her heels clacking on the hardwood floors. I’m not sure what Violet has in mind for baking, but I really hope that there’s more to it than just some mixing of baking ingredients.

EIGHT

VIOLET

I take Jake’s coat and hang his up with mine. I start to make my way to the kitchen when I see him take his sweater off. I quietly move closer as I can’t help but be mesmerized as he starts to roll his sleeves up.

Why is that so damn sexy?

His sinewy muscles flex in the dim light. I should’ve turned more lights on when I walked in earlier. I want a closer look. I don’t which is louder, my heart beating or my heels clacking on the floor. I keep walking towards him, this statuesque figure holding my gaze. I take a deep breath and clear my throat.

“I have everything to make gingerbread cookies,” my voice cracks as my eyes meet his. The hunger behind them ready to devour something besides dessert.

Or is that just wishful thinking from me?

I gesture for him to follow me to the kitchen.

I wish I was leading him to my bedroom.

I explain that I have all the ingredients we need from doing some testing for special holiday orders. Jake reaches out to brush my hair that’s tumbled into my face. His fingers gently stroke the side of my cheek as he pushes the hair over my shoulders. His touch lingering. Hovering slightly over my skin.

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