“Well, if I’d have known a pretty lady was going to be stopping by with delicious cake samples, I would’ve made myself a little more presentable,” Mason sings as we air kiss and he claps his hands together excitedly.
“Sorry about Deaton,” I say. “He’s always happy to see you guys.”
“Don’t worry about it. We high-fived on his way past.” He eyes the containers in my hands. “Is that what I think it is?”
I nod. “I’ve made three different sponges, and I need your opinion. I know you said chocolate raspberry, but I had a wild idea.”
“Ooh.” He drags me by the elbow to his office. “Tell me all about it.”
“Chocolate truffle, with the raspberry drizzle. Chocolate hazelnut. Vanilla tonka bean with extra dazzle; the dazzle being funfetti sprinkles. Lots of them.”
He fans himself. “You’re a woman after my own heart.”
“Can I just check on Deaton before we get into it?”
“Of course! I’ll go grab some silverware and we can taste and rate everything.”
I smile as he scurries off, and I wander down the hallway toward Brad’s office. I can hear Deaton talking animatedly, and Brad’s laughing.
“You should’ve seen it!” Deaton says. “And I kicked the winning goal!”
“That’s great, bud. Maybe we can practice sometime?”
“You play soccer?” When I hear how surprised my son sounds, it makes me giggle.
“I haven’t played in a long time, but I hear it’s just like riding a bike.”
Deaton laughs. “Want another one?” I’m assuming he’s offering Brad more cookies.
I hear Brad rustling around as he grabs another one. “Man, these are so good! Did you make them?”
“Yep! And my mom helped too.”
“Speaking of your mom, where is she?”
I decide to make my presence known. “Right here,” I say, stepping into the doorway. “I was just dropping the sponge samples to Mason, and since Deaton made delicious cookies, we wanted to share them with the office.”
Of course, Brad hasn’t spilled one crumb, which is just like him. His suits are always immaculate. I’ve never seen him without one, and that’s probably because he’s always working.
I don’t often see him out of work, and when I do; sure enough, he’s wearing a suit. I admit he fits it out well, I’m not denying it. And now I’m noticing his cuff links, the way his jacket is open while he sits, and the tightness of the material across the tops of his legs.Holy moly.
He’s smiling at me. Another thing about Brad? He’s known as the shrew around here. Bossy. Bad tempered. A little grumpy. But he’s never like that with me or Deaton.
“I’m happy to report they’re delicious,” he says to a beaming Deaton. “And I’m reluctant to share them with anyone.”
My son laughs. “I made the mixture too runny at first, but Mom helped me add more flour.”
I wave him off. “It was nothing. Deaton did all the hard work.”
Brad swipes another. “For later, if that’s okay with Mama?”
Mama.
He goes between that and ‘baby girl’. And every time he says it, my stomach does a little flip. I also feel something lower than that, but now I’m thinking about things I shouldn’t be…
“Mama approves.” I smile at Deaton. “Why don’t you go and see if anyone else would like one? Remember to tell them the ingredients for any allergies….” But he’s already taken off with a container, eager to shove a cookie at the next available person.
“So,” Brad says, bringing my attention back to him. “What kinda magic did you put in these cookies,Mama?”
