He scoffs. “Punk? Do I look like the kind of man that punks people?”
My giggle escapes before I can stop it. “Actually, yeah, you do. Among other nefarious things.”
“It’s the cut, isn’t it?” his friend says with a laugh. Puffing out his chest, that smile spreads wickedly as he grips the zippers of his leather, displaying it proudly. “Chicks dig the cut, man.”
Rolling his eyes, the taller man pulls out his wallet, flashing more money than I’d probably see in a week. “How much for it all?”
My fingers nervously move through my hair as I walk over to the register, unsure of how to proceed. This feels like a trap. But the thought of selling out on my first day is invigorating.
“Are you sure? Maybe I can just give you one of everything?”
He grunts in annoyance. “All of it or nothing. Take it or leave it.”
He wants to cuss. I can see it in the way his lips firmly press together, but his restraint is impeccable. Just for me, he keepshis tongue, and that means underneath the grumpy leather is sunshine just ready to peek out.
“If you’re sure, I’ll ring up his cinnamon roll first and then calculate everything else.”
He nods, crossing his arms over his chest, pecs protruding so I can see the peaks of his nipples.
Phew! Is it getting hot in here, or is it just him?I didn’t know I was into man nips, but my body says otherwise.
He taps his foot in annoyance, looking nervously towards the door. “How long will this take? I don’t have all day.” The man has very little patience, it seems.
“That will be four dollars and sixty cents for your cinnamon roll.”
The other man hands me a twenty. “Keep the change, sweetheart. I told you I fucking love cinnamon rolls.” This time the guy ducks, barely missing the massive palm that is swinging right at his face. “I know. I know. There’s a lady present. For fuck’s sake, Krampus, you don’t have to be such a dick.”
Krampus? What kind of name is Krampus?
The fist comes out of nowhere, and the smaller dude ends up on the floor, holding on to my cinnamon roll for dear life.
“Hey, watch it! You almost made me drop my pastry. That’s a sin, isn’t it?” he asks, looking toward me as he scrambles to his feet. “Is dropping pastries a sin in the baking world?”
“I’d classify it more as a sugary travesty,” I joke. “Maybe even a frosting fudge-up.”
Is that a smile?
Did my joke make the big guy break?
If it’s a smile. It fades quickly, and he’s back to all business again. “How much for it all?” he prods, the stern tone making my heart plummet.
Don’t fudge this up, Mindy.
Blinking up at him, I carefully look at my inventory list, then calculate everything I baked for the day. My heart sinks when I see the number. There’s no way he’ll pay for it all.
“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t ask you to pay for all this. It’s way too much.”
Krampus’ brow narrows. “How much is it?”
“It’s over two thousand dollars.”
Beside him, the smaller biker munches on his cinnamon roll, the gooey frosting sticking to his lips as he smacks loudly. “It’s fucking worth it. This is the best damn cinnamon roll I’ve ever tasted.” He’s too absorbed in his cinnamon roll bliss to see the backhand coming. A large chunk of food comes flying out of his mouth, landing on my beautiful glass display with a splat before slowly sliding down it, leaving a trail of icing infused slobber in its wake.
“What was that for? Now you’re smacking me around for giving compliments?”
“If you don’t know the answer to that, Prospect, I’ve lost all hope of you surviving in this world.”
Krampus opens his wallet and hands me some cash. “Here’s a thousand.” He then fishes out a credit card. “Then put another two grand on this.”
