I wasn’t entirely sure how long people went between coloring their hair, but given that we were going on our seventh week together, I guessed Willow would be touching it up soon.
She swiped on a pink gloss that matched her hair, then headed for the door. “What do you have up your sleeve, Ford?” she said as she grabbed her purse. “Whatever it is, there better be food. I didn’t realize I skipped lunch.”
“Of course there’s going to be food. It’s like you don’t even know me,” I said as I locked up the house and opened the passenger door of the car for her. “It’s National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day.” I hopped behind the wheel and buckled my seatbelt as she did the same. “We’re going on a bakery crawl.”
I wasn’t even shy about the way I kept my hand on Willow’s thigh as we drove out of the outskirts community and headed into Manhattan.
For it being on the smaller side of cities, Manhattan, Kansas had a surprising number of bakeries. I parked on the street at the first stop and reached into my pocket, pulling out the notecards and golf pencils I had found at the rental house.
“What’s this?” Willow said as she took the card and pencil I handed her and scanned the hand-written columns.
“Scorecards. How else are we going to figure out where the best cookie in the city comes from?”
Her eyebrows lifted, then a laugh broke free. “I’m guessing you also have a bakery crawl map for most efficient cookie consumption?”
I flashed my phone screen and showed her the red map dots that were connected by a blue line. If I was being honest, the travel loop kind of looked like a dick.
A lopsided dick, but a dick nonetheless.
“And when, pray tell, did you have time to come up with all of this?” she asked as she hopped out of the car and wiggled her overalls down from where they had ridden up.
“You’ve been staring at that tree for weeks,” I said as I locked the car and took her hand. “I had plenty of time.”
Willow’s gentle features fell. “I miss him.”
I cradled the back of her neck in my palm and kissed her forehead. “I know.”
We walked into the first bakery, hand in hand. Frosted Fantasy was drenched in pink-painted walls with hand-painted sprinkles. The gleaming bakery case was chock full of cupcakes, cookies, and brownies. Each sported a decadent layer of frosting.
Chewy cookies were sandwiched together with a thick helping of buttercream in the middle. Vanilla frosting for the sugar cookies, cream cheese frosting for the oatmeal raisin, salted caramel for the snickerdoodles, and fudge for the chocolate chip.
Each cookie sandwich was approximately the size of my head.
Willow’s eyes went wide as she surveyed the options. “We’re going to have to pace ourselves.”
We reconvened at a small table with two bottles of water and one chocolate chip cookie sandwich. Willow made a neat little plate out of the white waxed bakery bag and laid the cookie on top.
“Wait,” I said as she reached to break it in half. I pulled out my phone. “We have to document our findings.”
“Ah. The good ol’ scientific method. Do what you must,” she said as she sat back so I could get a shot of the cookie.
I handed it to her instead. “I want you in it.”
“But we agreed that you wouldn’t post?—”
“This is just for me, Wills,” I said.
She held the cookie next to her face and smiled. I showed her the photo for her approval, and watched as a myriad of emotions flitted across her eyes.
“You’re cookie testing too,” she said. “You have to be part of the evidence.”
I scooted closer and took another picture of the two of us and the cookie.
Willow’s eyes lingered on the screen for a moment, then averted as she broke the cookie in two and handed me my half. “Will you text that picture to me?”
I sent it immediately, then tapped my cookie to hers. “Cheers.”
The first bite was heaven. Willow closed her eyes and let out the most erotic moan I’d ever heard. “Oh my God,” she groaned. “There’s no topping this. Best cookie. Ten out of ten.”
