“Yourkitchen?”
“When I’m cooking in it, it’s my kitchen. Don’t you have something else to do? Your guests will be here soon.”
“Nope. No one is gonna come on time.”
“That’s awfully rude of them.” I grab a frosting bag and line the cake with pink icing. “Are you sure Iwantto meet your friends? They kind of sound like?—”
“Be nice. It doesn’t matter. You’re here, so you’re meeting them.”
“Fine…” I trail off, my mind going blank as I trace the icing over the edge of the cake.
“You really are good at this, you know.” He gestures to my masterpiece. “Any bakery in San Diego would be happy to have you.”
Everett is dropping hints, and he isn’t subtle. Of course, he wants me to drop out and live with him. He completely wasted his degree. Why don’t I waste my education as well?
I glare, silencing him. “Maybe for the summer. Sure.”
“Or you could find something more permanent.”
“I have to finish school before I can even think about moving.”
“There’s no rule about it. It’s not like being a bakerrequiresa degree. You’re not a doctor, Evie.”
“I still have a lot to learn.” I exhale, blowing a few strands of hair out of my face. “This is important to me. Just call me Cake Doctor, because that’s how long I’m spending in school.”
Paying out of pocket means saving up for each course. I’ve watched plenty of people zoom on ahead of me, finishing their degrees before I can blink. Eventually, I’ll catch up to them.
“That would be a good name for your bakery,” he says.
“What? Cake Doctor?” I giggle. “It would—if I ever get to open one.”
That’s always been my dream. I adore baking, but working for others is something I quickly realized brings me no joy. I need creative control, a shop that perfectly fits my vibe, and no micromanaging bosses. This moment, right here, when I can create something without anyone’s input or rush… this is it. This is precisely what I want.
There will always be a sense of rushing when baking for someone else, even if I’m working at my bakery, but it will be nothing compared to how it was at my past jobs.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
The sound jolts me from my thoughts.
DING-DONG!
Whoever it is, they’re impatient.
I lift a brow and cock my head. “Itoldyou they were on the way. Maybe your friends aren’t as rude as you think.”
“No.” He sighs, ambling to the front door. “That’s just Theo. He always comes first—makes it easier for him to leave early.”
“Being on time isn’tearly!”
Everett groans. “That’s exactly what he says.”
By my estimation, this guest—Theo—is right on time. Four o’clock on the dot.
The door opens, and I hear the sound of footsteps and a friendly greeting. Rather than listening in, I focus on frosting the cake.
“There she is!” Everett’s voice booms through the kitchen, loud and proud. “Theo, this is my sister, Evelyn.”
I look up from the cake, and warmth spreads through my body, not from the preheating oven or the San Diego sun. The hot flush only deepens when I lock eyes with the stranger, meeting irises as dark as night.Theo, probably.
