“Thought so. Here.” He nudged the first container over to her, along with a plastic fork he’d scrounged from the coffee station. It was a far cry from Dora’s guest china at the Cake Shoppe, but the result should speak for itself.
Josie wasted no time trying a sample, moaning as the first bite hit her tongue. “Oh my God. Heaven. What is this?”
Pointedlynotthinking about how good her moans of pleasure sounded, he said, “Peach cake with a pecan filling.”
“For Georgia!” she exclaimed around her mouthful. “He’ll love that.”
Pride swelled in his chest; he’d come up with the recipe on the fly, hoping it would mean something to Richard. Beyond the good word of mouth, it sounded like the guy could use a little happiness right now.
He slid the other container toward her. “I also have a cardamom cake that you didn’t try on Saturday. I think it’s a strong counterpoint to the sweeter flavors, but Dora always said it was ‘too ethnic.’”
Josie rolled her eyes. “Of course she did.” Her expression turned rapturous as she sampled the new selection, and Erik congratulated himself on correctly estimating the range of her palate.
“Amazing!” She was typing again. “Options for layers: chocolate hazelnut, Georgia peach, and bigots-be-gone cardamom. Oh, and Richard loved the pistachio too.”
She grabbed a second mouthful of cardamom cake. Another moan. Another sound for him to ignore as it crossed those velvety lips.
“I prefer buttercream icing if they’re okay with that.” Abrupt, but it kept the meeting on track.
“Oh sure,” she said. “Fondant’s gross.”
“Exactly. I want my cakes as delicious on the outside as they are on the inside.”
She set her fork down with a gasp. “That’s great! That’s your tagline.”
“My what?”
“For your new bakery!” She sketched a rainbow arc through the air with her hands. “Hot Buns: Delicious outside, delicious inside.”
“I’m not calling my shop Hot Buns,” he muttered, feeling ridiculous even joking about it with someone else.
She slapped a hand against the table with a hoot, causing the barista to peer around the cappuccino machine to make sure his new customer-girlfriend was safe.
“Aha! Youareconsidering opening your own bakery.” She shot him a smug grin, and he gave her his most forbidding look in return to get her to drop it.
It worked too well. The teasing light vanished from her face, and she frowned down at the notes on her phone while he battled back the urge to apologize for frightening the joy out of her. But wanting to coax that smile back to her face wasn’t the smartest impulse in the long run; she was only here to help pick out a wedding cake, and he wouldn’t see her again until the wedding itself, if even then. No need to confide in her like she was his friend.
Smarter to stick to the facts. “When’s their wedding date?” Not that it mattered since he had no other work on the horizon at this point, but it got them back on track. Of course, it also reminded him thathe had no other work on the horizon at this point.Panic roiled in his belly again.
“June twenty-eighth. Fast, right?” She was smiling again, but it was a little less bright this time. “They only got engaged in February, and they still have tons of decisions to make.”
She swapped containers and took a big bite of the peach cake, rolling her eyes heavenward as the fork hit her tongue. She might be far too vivid for his everyday life, but her over-the-top expressions made her his ideal cake-tasting client.
“So that’s why I’m freaking out,” she said around another mouthful. “I offered to take care of some of the details while they’re both in Rochester since I’m the best maid and the only semilocal family is Byron’s brother, who’s way too bro-ish to bother with ‘girly wedding shit.’”
So many words to convey such simple ideas. Yet even though their business was mostly concluded, he wasn’t ready to go back to his empty apartment. So he did the unthinkable and kept the conversation going. “Nothing girly about wedding prep. What’s already done?”
She twirled her fork in the air as she thought it through. “Let’s see… the venue, the band, the photographer, the flowers, the invites. What else can there possibly be?”
He scratched his jaw in thought and ignored her pink little tongue darting out to capture a crumb off one of the fork tines. “Cake, obviously,” he said. “Honeymoon. Rehearsal dinner. Gift registry. Guest book. Seating chart. Catering menu. Reception favors. Attendant gifts.”
She slapped her forehead. “Duh, attendant gifts. How could I forget after all the engraved flasks I’ve gotten for bridesmaid duty over the years?” She tapped a note into her phone and then cut her eyes over to him. “Hey, you’re good at this. Are you married?”
He almost choked on his herbal tea at her abrupt question. “I bake wedding cakes,” he said. “I’ve picked things up.”
“Oh! Of course. Well, thanks. I just added all that to my list.” She finished typing as a wide yawn overtook her. “Ugh, sorry. It’s been nonstop at work, and I’m wiped out. Things start slowing down for me by the end of the week, thank God.”
She paused and looked at him expectantly, although Erik had no idea what she wanted. After a moment, she rolled her eyes. “Since you asked, I’m in marketing.”
