“Calm yourself, Patrick. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to take stuff from strangers? What if it’s drugged?”
“Mik-eey.”
“I swear on my mom’s grave I’d never give someone laced sweets without their consent. Besides, these cookies are a new recipe, so you’re actually doing me a favor by testing them before I put them out to the public.”
“See? He’s a baker! We can trust him,” Patrick argues.
I guess my assumption was right and that’s why his van smells so good.
“We would love some cookies. Thank you,” I say, and Saint’s lips stretch into the full smile I was wondering about.
He has a slight dimple on one side of his cheek, and his eyes crinkle in the corners as he flashes me his pearly white teeth. It’s breathtaking.
Panties incinerated.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” Saint rushes out the front door, and it reminds me of an eager child on Christmas. Who knew someone could be so excited about cookies?
Patrick whistles to grab my attention. “Just the gas cap, huh?”
“Yep. Simple fix.”
“Interesting. And now he’s giving you cookies.”
“He’s givinguscookies. Cookiesyouwere practically begging for.” I point a finger at him, and he holds his hands up in surrender, a cheeky grin on his face.
“Well, we’re doing him a favor, remember? But I’m sure there are other favors he’d want from you.”
“Patrick!”
“What? I’m just saying.”
Before I can scold Patrick about his remark, Saint walks in the front door, carrying a container. He pops the lid off to reveal perfectly circular, golden-brown cookies, offering it to Patrick who promptly takes one and shoves half of it into his mouth. He swallows and gives Saint a thumbs up.
I grab one next, taking a normal sized bite, chewing slowly to savor it. As the flavors burst across my tongue, my eyes flutter closed, and a soft moan of appreciation slips out. This isn’t a standard, run-of-the-mill chocolate chip cookie. There’s a hint of something… more. The cookie is perfectly crispy around the edges and chewy in the middle, and there’s a slight crunch of some type of nut. Pecans, I think.
“Wow,” I mumble, taking another bite. “This is…”
“Fucking delicious,” Patrick finishes for me.
Saint’s eyes are glued firmly to my mouth, and I swipe at my lips with my fingers to make sure there are no chocolate smudges.
“Why are they so good?” I ask after taking the final bite. God, I want another one. That was one of the most delicious things I’ve ever tasted.
“Bourbon, brown butter, pecans, and a pinch of cinnamon. I like to add a little cornstarch to my dough to keep the cookies soft,” Saint explains, still staring at my mouth. He blinks twice then offers me the container. “You can have the rest.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t?—”
“Please, take them. I have so many, and they’ll go to waste since I can’t sell them yet.”
I take the container from him. “Thank you, Saint.”
“Yeah, thanks, man.” Patrick reaches across me and grabs three more cookies.
“Thank you for looking at my van. Sorry again for taking up so much of your time for something so stupid.”
“It’s not a problem, truly. Hopefully we won’t see each other again soon, though,” I tease.
He barks out another forced laugh. “Yeah… Well, I’ll see you around, Mikey.” He heads towards the front door but turns and adds, “You, too, Patrick.”
