Letting Drea down wasn’t something he wanted to do.The kiss between the two of them at his house had knocked him on his ass.The way she’d felt beneath him.Fuck.Perhaps seeing his mom again was for the best, a reminder to keep his heart solidly behind the bars of his ribs.
“I’m fine, Shortcake,” he said with a weak smile, patting her hand and removing it from his arm.
Coming straight from the gym to here was a recipe for cardiac failure.If the high-intensity strength-training session didn’t kill him, the sugar high was about to.Maybe he’d just fade into a diabetic coma.And all before nine on a Sunday morning.
A chalkboardCLOSEDsign hung on the door.None of the lights were on inside and little folding chairs were leaning against the small square tables with military precision.“You sure it’s today?”
“Yes.”Drea knocked on the glass door.They didn’t wait long before a beaming smile greeted them.
“Drea,entre mon ange.”
“Madeleine, this is Brody.”Careful not to squeeze too hard, Cujo shook Madeleine’s hand.He imagined he could break her bones, which seemed narrower than the pencils he used at work.She was an odd contrast—an elegant feminine face with long dark hair and red lipstick, and the body of an eleven-year-old boy.
“Bonjour, Brody.Come, come.I ’ave so many treats for you.Très délicieux.”
Cujo quickly realized Madeleine was a tornado.Whirling around the room, decorated in white with an occasional tile painted with cheerful sunflowers, she served up their first sample.
“This one is a simple pound cake with delicate layers of lemon curd and buttercream.It is decorated in a lemoncouleurbuttercream icing, but I could do whatevercouleuryou prefer.Try.Mange s’il vous plait.”
Cujo picked up the child-sized fork with strange prongs.
“It’s a cake fork,” Drea whispered.“Use the fat prong to cut.”She turned her fork and sliced to demonstrate.
It was going to take an hour to eat a slice of cake at this rate.
“Oh my God,” Drea groaned, the raspy lilt of her voice hitting him in places he’d decided were off-limits.“It’s so good.”She opened her eyes and looked at him.“Seriously, try some.”
It was cake for fuck’s sake.Drea sounded like she’d just had an orgasm in the middle of the kitchen.He cut a piece and popped it into his mouth.
The tart lemon and rich, sweet buttercream mixed together perfectly and was as close to heaven as anything he’d ever tasted.“Holy shit.”
“You like,oui?”
“Gotta be honest.Didn’t know cake could taste so good.”Cujo moved to take another piece of the cake, was about to take a slice when Madeleine whipped the plate out from underneath him.“Wait, I was gonna—”
Drea laughed.He turned and curled his lip at her, hoping she didn’t notice the way the corner of his lip was twitching up into a smile.
“Non, non!There are many to try and you will be too full.”
Madeleine placed another plate on the table.“This is a vanilla sponge, layered with butterscotch buttercream, and the icing is toffee infused.”
Cujo and Drea eyed each other before racing to grab a bite.
“Mmm,” Drea sighed.
Some of the sticky toffee buttercream clung defiantly to her fork.Not to be bested, Drea licked the fork clean, a sight requiring an adjustment of his jeans.
He chewed, thinking about what he could do to Drea with that icing.Or even better.Straight-up toffee sauce.He needed to quit thinking that way.
“It is good,non?Qu’est ce que vous preferez?”
“This one—”
“The other one—” They said at the same time.Cujo snatched another piece of cake before Madeleine could take the plate.
“Oh, sneaky,” Drea whispered in admiration as her plate was taken away.
More treats were placed in front of them, a delicious chocolate s’mores, a white chocolate topped with raspberry fondant, and one with icing that tasted like key lime pie.Once the cakes were all sampled, Madeleine served them an espresso, and put four plain cupcakes, two bags of buttercream icing—one a bright sunny yellow, the other brown—and a tray of toppings in front of them.
