Chapter Eighteen
August flipped the light switch. Bright fluorescent light flooded the room, bathing the gleaming kitchen appliances, floors, and counters in what some considered a harsh light. He sighed in satisfaction. He and his partners had worked hard to have this amazing place.
Behind him, his companion groaned.
“Why? Why are we here?” Sloane griped. “Who did I piss off in my former life?”
He turned to face his helper. “Is that a whine I hear?”
She grumbled something under her breath. Something like “I’ll show you a whine.”
August crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his eyebrows. “You’re the one who said you wanted to be present to chronicle my every move to build awareness for Sugar Blitz.”
Last night, after he’d gotten home from the town hall, Nicholas had texted him to ask if August could cover his morning shift, because Nicholas had a meeting with his agent he couldn’t get out of. Something about a snag with an endorsement deal. The meeting would require him to leave in the middle of prep. August had played sous-chef enough times to know what was expected. Show up at 5 A.M. to make the day’s cupcakes. He’d immediately texted Sloane to join him in the morning fun.
She growled. “You know I’m not a morning person.”
“Lucky for you, it’s the middle of the night.”
She growled louder.
August struggled to hold back his laughter. “You can always go home.” A snicker slipped out. Okay, maybe he wasn’t trying that hard.
“And have you calling me a quitter? Ain’t no way.” Sloane rubbed her eyes. It was adorable. Her braids were pulled back into a high ponytail. Her pout only highlighted how full and tempting her bare lips were. Which was not the point.
“I’m going to get started.” August tapped on the tablet screen he carried. Nicholas had sent him a detailed plan about which cupcakes to bake, where the recipes were located, where the ingredients were located, and even a little note about how the oven could be a smidge tricky in the morning. All things August already knew, but Nicholas guarded his kitchen like a helicopter parent, so August didn’t mind much.
August kept scrolling. Even if the plan was ten—no, make that eleven —pages long.
“Ooh, yes. Give me more wrinkled brow. Your fans are gonna love the intensity.”
August looked up and glared. Sloane had her damned camera trained on him, snapping away. She lowered the device. “You might want to work on that scowl. You don’t want to scare your fans away.”
It was his turn to growl. Sloane’s smile widened. He stepped closer until only a foot separated them. Her gaze skittered away for a second before returning to his. Her throat worked up and down twice, and yes, the long, sleek line was mesmerizing, conjuring up fantasies about tracing the skin with his lips, but that’s not why he’d come over here.
He bared his teeth. “Be sure not to take any blurry photos. I mean since you’re so sleepy and all.”
She gasped, any lingering traces of sleep on her face replaced by hot-blooded ire. She stepped closer. “How dare you? I am a professional!”
He smirked. “Who was whining three minutes ago. Try to keep up.”
“And you try to keep that scowl off your face as you bake. Leave the hard stuff to me, SugarBae .”
Undoubtedly that word had never been uttered with such derision. August smiled to himself. Starting with their first conversation all those years ago, Sloane had never been interested in taking shit from him. And just like then, he found her attitude ridiculously appealing.
His attraction to her, which had reignited when she moved to San Diego, only continued to grow by leaps and bounds. And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. She’d made it clear she didn’t want to go there, and he couldn’t blame her. He wasn’t worthy of her. Not after what he’d done. He doubted he ever would be.
He went back to work and tried to ignore that through all the sugar and buttercream, he could still smell her honey scent. Sense her presence. He also couldn’t ignore that she was snapping away. He was not a cover model. He leaned out of the shot. When she didn’t say anything, he tried it again.
She lowered her phone. “Would you stop?”
“Stop what?” he asked innocently.
“You know what. Stop being petty and stand still so I can take clear, non-blurry photos. This whole thing was your idea, remember?”
Yes, he remembered. A moment of weakness. He dodged one more time. It was so worth it when she let out a tiny scream of frustration. He wasn’t perfect. Sue him.
“August.”
“Okay, okay.” He stopped acting like a child and went back to measuring ingredients. Her honey scent still filled his senses, but a man couldn’t have everything, could he?
“You like baking, huh?” she asked a few minutes later.
He looked up. “Yeah, I find it relaxing.”
“Me, too. Whatcha making?”
“Peanut butter chocolate. It’s one of our top sellers.”
“Oh, okay. Hmm.”
He looked up. “Did you say something?”
She waved her hand. “Oh, no.”
He returned to his task.
“Hmm.”
Okay, he wasn’t imagining it. “What does that mean?”
“What does what mean?”
“You’re hmming.”
Sloane rocked back on her heels. “Oh, nothing.”
Eau de bullshit was wafting through the air. “Yeah, right. Spill it, Sloane.”
“It’s just… you know, you have an interesting technique.”
His eyebrows lifted. “By interesting you mean wrong.”
“Oh, no, I would never say that.”
“You would just think it. Do you even know what you’re talking about?” Never let it be said that he couldn’t jump into Pettyville.
Sloane sniffed. “You’re not the only one who knows how to bake. Just because I don’t make time for it doesn’t mean I don’t know how to do it. Baking is a strong Donovan tradition, as you well know.”
“Hmm.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You also know good and well I’ve helped out here before.”
“Once.”
“At least three times, you annoying hermit.”
“You’ve resorted to name-calling, I see.” He was having way too much fun. He wagged his finger. “Tsk, tsk. How unbecoming.”
“I can bake you under the table any day of the week.”
“Put up or shut up.”
A competitive gleam entered her eyes. “You’re on. Give me the tablet.”
He loved seeing that fire in her eyes. He also loved living, so he handed over the tablet. “Why don’t we make this interesting and see who can bake the best batch?”
The idea clearly intrigued her. “Who’s going to judge?”
“Donovan and Ella are scheduled to work the morning shift. They can do it.”
“They love me best, so advantage me. What do I get when I win?” She snapped her fingers. “Ooh, I got it. If I win, you do a photo shoot and you do as I say during this campaign. No dodging photos, no whining. I lead. You follow.”
“And if I win, I get right of first refusal on all posts and photos before you post.”
“You’re on.” The light of battle in her eyes matched the resolution of her tone.
August was only a tiny bit scared. Only a tiny bit turned on. “You have to follow the recipes exactly. We have a reputation to uphold.”
Sloane nodded. “I don’t want Nicholas’s ire to rain down on me if I screw up, so I’ll follow the recipes. But I’ll still win because I’ll add the Sloane razzle dazzle .”
He snorted, amused as always by her. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. I’ll also continue to do what I’m doing and ignore your little hmms as I bake.”
“I’m going to set up the camera to get footage.”
Of course. He respected the hustle even if he didn’t like it very much.
She whipped around. “And you can’t work while I do it.”
He held up his hands in supplication, then waited patiently while she exited the kitchen and returned a couple of minutes later with two tripods procured from somewhere, set them up, and checked the lighting. She set up his phone and hers at different angles to get as much of the kitchen as she could.
Finally, when she was ready, he laid out the rules.
“You bake six varieties and I take the other half. We choose by random order. We follow the recipes exactly, making sure to put Sugar Blitz quality and consistency first.”
Sloane snapped a salute. “Yes, sir. I will do all that and add my razzle dazzle .”
“Still pretending you didn’t say that, as I remind you that if you happen to burn a batch, oh well. I’m winning.” He lifted up his wrist to inspect his watch. “We have two hours.”
“Got it.” Sloane made a beeline for the refrigerator.
He followed at a more sedate pace. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure I get the best eggs.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.” Her voice came from inside the door of the massive refrigerator.
He stepped behind her to find her, indeed, inspecting all the eggs, which were all roughly the same size and quality, like they were individual frames in the Zapruder film. August cleared his throat.
“Hold your horses. I’m almost done.”
Two could play this game. He made his way to the cupboards and grabbed a bag of flour. The only bag.
“What are you doing?” she said.
“Getting my supplies together.” He stepped aside and let her take his place.
“Where’s the flour?”
“I’ve got it. You can have it when I’ve made all my cupcakes.”
Her eyes widened. “What? That’s not fair.”
He shrugged. “All’s fair in love and cupcakes.”
She wasn’t the only one obsessed with winning. You couldn’t play professional football and not be competitive as hell. He usually left that side of him on the football field, but this situation was unique. And he was having so much fun with her. Like when they were kids. He’d missed this. Missed them .
Sloane’s mouth fell open. “You’re diabolical. Where’s the rest of the flour?”
He shrugged. After shooting him a glare that would have incinerated a lesser opponent, she sprinted out of the kitchen to the supply closet where there was, indeed, more flour, but the door was locked. August kept one eye on the door while he measured out flour.
Sloane came careening back into the room. “The door was locked!”
“You don’t say.” He nonchalantly cracked an egg he’d selflessly liberated from her stash.
“I’m still going to win.”
“Yes, I know. With your razzle dazzle .”
Sloane squeezed her eyelids shut. Her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath. When her eyes reopened, the panic had receded. Determination and grit had replaced it.
A chill slithered down his spine. Oh, shit.
She marched over to him and held out her hand. “Give me the flour.”
Like the mature adult he was, he held the bag over his head. “Give me some of your eggs.”
She gasped. “Absolutely not. There are more eggs in the fridge.”
“But not the best eggs, according to you. No eggs, no flour.”
Her jaw worked side to side as she considered her next move. “Fine.” Her shoulders slumped and her chin burrowed into her chest. “You win.”
Now he felt like the worst piece of shit. “Hey, Sloane, I was just kid—”
He never saw it coming.
“Ouch!” She’d kicked his shin! He dropped the bag on the countertop as pain radiated up his leg.
Sloane grabbed the flour and ran to her station, cackling. “Gotcha, sucker. Victory is mine!”
August shook his head. “You are ridiculous.”
“As are you, sir. As are you.”
He screwed his face into an exaggerated grimace. “You wounded me.”
She flicked her hand at the wrist, dismissing his pain. “You’ll be fine.”
He placed a hand over his chest. “Your sympathy soothes my soul.”
“You’re welcome.”
They shared a smile. Again, it was like no time had passed. Her smile was like a punch to the stomach. Breathing was no longer possible. She truly was beautiful, never more so than when happiness bloomed across her face.
Sloane took a step backward. She had to. A stoic August was a sight to behold. A smiling August was breathtaking. Whipping eggs suddenly became the most important task in the world. Anything to avoid the wonder of his gaze. “I’m still going to win, ya know.”
He snorted. “Whatever, dude.”
They worked in silence for a bit. She kept tabs on him, of course. There was a competition to be won, after all. When he looked like he was ready for the oven, she grabbed her pan and sprinted across the room.
“What are you doing?” he asked from behind her.
“Getting the good oven.”
“Both ovens are exactly the same.”
“Nicholas likes the top one, so that means it’s the best.”
He opened the other, lesser oven and slid his pan inside. “Have I mentioned that you’re ridiculous?”
“Not in the past ten minutes, no.”
They returned to their stations and got to work, preparing their next batches. Sloane carefully scrolled through her tablet to make sure she was following Nicholas’s directions exactly.
“How’s it going?” August called out.
“With baking? Fabulous. I’m going to make cupcakes that will have you weeping with joy because they’re so good.”
His lips quirked. “Good to hear. And life, in general?”
Sloane cracked another egg open. “Other than trying not to freak out about being unemployed, it’s going swell.”
He stepped around the counter toward her. “Hey, you’re going to get that job. And even if you don’t, you’ll get another.”
At least he didn’t mention getting a loan from her brother. That was never, ever going to happen.
She shrugged. “I hope so. Nothing’s guaranteed, no matter how much I wish it were.” She’d had that lesson drummed into her over and over through the years. “This is a good distraction, though.”
And she wasn’t just talking about baking cupcakes. He’d always been willing to listen. To care about what was going on with her. How had she forgotten that? It felt good, nice to let down her guard and be vulnerable with someone. No, not with someone. With August.
She looked up to find his eyes pinned on her. Like he could read the words she’d left unspoken. Like he shared her thoughts. Wanted what she wanted. She swallowed hard as the air backed up in her lungs.
“Happy to help.” One of his brilliant, rare smiles slowly made an appearance.
Her eyes caught on his beautifully molded lips. What if she bridged the gap? Tasted those tempting lips?
Ping! The oven timer. Sloane jumped, jarred back to the present. They were in a kitchen. Baking. She coughed and stepped back from temptation. They couldn’t. She couldn’t. “Let’s get back to work. These cupcakes aren’t going to bake themselves.”
She held her breath, waiting for him to respond as his gaze, dark and penetrating, remained focused on her. Then, he slowly nodded and went back to baking.
Sloane slowly exhaled and studied him out of the corner of her eye as she crossed the room to the oven. Her hormones were still rioting, begging her to finish what she hadn’t started. Was there anything sexier than a man knowing his way around a kitchen? Well, a man cleaning up after himself in the kitchen, maybe.
She shook her head. She didn’t have time for this. Wouldn’t have time for this. She opened the oven and pulled out the strawberry shortcake cupcakes. They smelled wonderful. Looked even better.
Suddenly, she became aware that she wasn’t alone. August stood behind her, which shouldn’t have been a big deal, but she could feel the heat radiating off him, seeping into her body. Making her want to snuggle into his chest. Making her want… everything. No. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, then set the pan down and took off her oven gloves.
“They look good.” He still stood too close. Or maybe that was her overactive imagination. She turned. He was close, his attention focused squarely on her.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
“You have flour on your nose.” He wiped away the offending ingredient. The act shouldn’t have sent a streak of heat skittering through her system, but it did.
She lifted her hand to… what? Ward him off? Instead, her fingers curled over his chest. His heart beat fast and sure under her palm, scalding her with his heat. She gasped. “August.”
Suddenly his mouth was on hers. Or maybe hers was on his. It didn’t matter. His lips were exquisite, soft and full. Deliberate as they demanded entry. She had no issue acquiescing. Giving him anything he wanted. She opened her mouth on a moan. A shiver raced down her spine as their tongues met and slid sensuously against each other. Wanting more, Sloane explored his mouth. August took the kiss deeper, and she was happy to drown.
More, more, more.
She pressed her chest against his, dug her nails into his shoulders. Groaned when he slipped a leg between hers and pressed against her. He was so hard. He nipped her bottom lip with his teeth and kissed away the sting. Then, the kiss got wilder. Hotter. He lifted her on the counter. Ever grateful, she took the opportunity to wrap her legs around his waist and crowd closer.
As quickly as it started, it was over.
He stood a foot away and stared at her with wide, unblinking eyes. “I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.”
“What?” Chest heaving, lips tingling, lust rampaging through her system, Sloane stared at him. Then, she heard it. Other voices outside the door.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“Are we interrupting something?”
The question had come from her brother.
Sloane hopped off the counter, which brought her much too close to August. She took two hasty steps to the left. “What?”
Donovan and Ella were standing at the room’s entrance. Ella’s grin was almost as wide as the doorway. Donovan looked both shocked and confused.
“Are we disturbing something?” he repeated.
Sloane looked around. They hadn’t wrecked the kitchen, but there was stuff everywhere, not to mention the phone cameras she’d set up at different points to capture it all. She had flour all over her. She wiped her hands on her apron, which did nothing but add another layer of flour to the covering. Clearing her throat, she stepped away from temptation and tried to take control of the situation, even though her mind was still swirling and her hormones were still raging.
What had they done? Why did she do that? She couldn’t get involved with the guy who broke her heart. She couldn’t let a man be that important to her again.
Focus. She needed to focus. “August and I are having a contest to see who can bake the best cupcake, and you two are going to be the judges. And it’s a blind taste test, so you can’t pick your best friend/employer.” She sounded only a little bit shaky. She’d take that as a win.
Donovan eyed them both while Sloane held her breath. Had he seen them? Heard them? “Hmm,” he finally said. “Okay, then.”
Sloane slowly exhaled.
“Donovan might have to be impartial, but there’s nothing in the rules that say I can’t pick who I love the best,” Ella said. “So of course I’m going to pick you, Sloane.”
“Blind taste test it is then.” August clapped his hands, sounding completely unbothered by what had just gone down.
Sloane snorted because that was the expected reaction.
“That won’t be necessary,” Donovan said. “We can be impartial, right, Ella?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Ella said.
On autopilot, Sloane went and retrieved her cupcakes and handed them to Ella and Donovan. “I made these. Pretend this is GBBO and give your honest assessments.”
She crossed her fingers behind her back as the judges both took generous bites of her strawberry shortcake. They both emitted moans of approval. She barely restrained from smirking at August. She really wanted to win. Did it matter, in the grand scheme of things? No, but wins had been hard to come by lately. And if kissing her was such a mistake, then she needed to best him in something. Prove to him the kiss meant nothing to her, as well. Even though it absolutely did.
“The texture is almost perfect,” Donovan said. “A smidge too soft, but that’s coming from an expert. The average layperson would never notice.”
She resisted chucking something at her brother’s head.
“I love the extra whipped cream. Our customers will love that,” Ella said.
Next, they tried August’s chocolate raspberry swirl. Again, the judges moaned in appreciation at the first bite.
Which was a good thing . They did plan to sell the desserts, after all. Were the moans a little louder, a little more appreciative than for hers, or was she losing her mind? Either option was viable at this point.
“The raspberry and chocolate mix perfectly,” Ella said.
Donovan nodded. “But I’m wondering if this was cooked a tad too long.”
Sloane rolled her eyes. Her brother was being difficult on purpose. His grin confirmed it. She bared her teeth at him. He laughed and stepped back to confer with Ella.
“We have a winner,” Ella declared solemnly a few seconds later.
Sloane squeezed her eyes shut and rocked back and forth on her heels. Her heart was pounding.
“The winner is…” Donovan paused dramatically like he was, indeed, the host of GBBO . She’d kill him later when she had the time.
“The strawberry shortcake!”
Her eyes popped open. She jumped up and down and squealed. “I win, sucker! Take that!”
August lifted an eyebrow. Right. Decorum. She cleared her throat. “Good competition. Your cupcakes were undoubtedly amazing.”
His eyebrows climbed higher. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure they were, but mine were better, and you have to do everything I say.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Your wish is my command.”
If only.
“Sloane. Sloane,” Donovan said.
She jumped. “Sorry. August and I’ll talk about our social media plans later. But now that I have you here, dear brother, I have something else I want to talk to you about. Nicholas isn’t here, so two out of three will have to do.”
Donovan and August exchanged an uneasy glance. She wasn’t deterred. “You three own three buildings on the same block as Sugar Blitz Two and none of you bothered to mention it.”
Donovan and August exchanged another glance. However, Sloane wasn’t interested in best friend telepathy at the moment. She waved her hand. “Spill it, gentlemen.”
With a sigh, Donovan leaned against the counter. “We weren’t trying to hide it from you. It just never came up, and I don’t see the problem anyway. We’re not planning on doing anything evil.”
“You don’t see the problem?” Sloane turned on her heel and marched to the end of the room and turned back. “Let me break it down for you. I know y’all, so I don’t doubt that you have the best intentions, but residents don’t know that. They don’t know you. What they do know is what’s happening all across this country, namely outsiders coming in, raising rents, and driving out longtime residents all in the name of so-called progress.”
“We would never do that,” August said quietly.
She found his quiet resolution way too attractive, but she would think about why she insisted on torturing herself later. She nodded emphatically. “And I won’t let you. Donovan, we’re from Oakland. We’ve seen firsthand how gentrification can harm communities, especially our people.”
Donovan blew out a breath. “I know, Sloane.”
She threw up her hands. “Then what’s the plan?”
August stepped in front of her. Close enough to touch. But he didn’t. Longing swept through her for that phantom touch. He looked deep into her eyes. “Sloane. We have some ideas, but we haven’t decided on anything. We do know we aren’t going to drive people out.”
Again, his innate sense of calm and purpose effortlessly lured her into a trap he wasn’t even trying to set. By force of will, Sloane stepped back and went to retrieve her phone. She unlocked it and started typing.
“What are you doing?” August asked from behind her.
She turned to him. “Putting in a reminder to set up a meeting when all three of you are available to discuss these ideas and come up with some better ones.”
His lips spread in obvious appreciation. “I would expect nothing less.”