Chapter 12 Jamison
Jamison
Ihad never been to a cake tasting room before.
Never even knew such a thing existed. When I got married, Maria, her best friend, and her sister took care of all the decision-making concerning the food for our wedding.
She asked my opinion about a few items, more as a courtesy from what I could tell, but ultimately, the decisions had belonged to her and her closest confidantes.
Sugar Crumb Bakery's tasting room was set off from the main part of the shop, in a small space with two rectangular tables and comfortable-looking chairs.
The entire room was painted white, creating the perfect neutral palette to display the colorful dummy cakes and flavor cards on the shelves along one wall.
A glass window cut into the wall separating us from the front of the store allowed a partial view of the bakery and gave customers a glimpse into the room. Riley had set us up at the table farthest from the window, which meant no one could see us, providing a bit of privacy as we indulged.
Basically, I was alone with Tallulah Washington, who, by the way, looked incredible yet again. Her hair was twisted into a tight bun on top of her head, secured by well-hidden pins. The style lifted her posture and exposed her neck.
She was wearing a luxe-bohemian dress only she could carry off.
Fluid and light, it brushed against her body without clinging, just enough to tease.
The base color was purple, with multicolored floral and abstract patterns in metallic gold, metallic silver, green, pink, and blue.
One shoulder was bare, exposing the graceful line of her collarbone and giving her a regal appearance.
I watched as she set her large purse on the edge of the table and settled into one of the four chairs, her chestnut-brown skin glowing like polished wood, as if she were lit from the inside. My gaze traced the slope of her bare shoulder, and heat curled in my stomach, unexpected and fiery.
I sat down across from her and forced my attention to the task at hand. On the table were sheets of paper, pens, the cake samples, plates, forks, and glasses next to a carafe of water.
"Should we establish criteria to judge the cakes?" I asked, completely out of my depth. I suspected my son had invited me only because Blossom had invited her mother, and he didn't want me to feel left out.
"That's what these are for." Tallulah tapped the sheets of paper.
I paid closer attention to them. They were scorecards for the cakes.
Riley had brought in ten samples, and we had to rate each from one to five based on specific criteria—flavor, texture, moistness, appearance, and our overall impression.
At the bottom of each sheet was a place to put our names.
I immediately wrote my name in the blank.
"By the way, your sleeping tips worked," I said.
Tallulah looked up from writing her name too. "That's good news. Which tips did you follow?"
"I struggled to let go of my electronics the first few nights, but eventually, I buckled down and put them away. It took time for me to fall asleep, but I was able to sleep through the night. I didn't like the eye exercises, by the way. Maybe that's why they didn't work."
"They're not for everyone," she admitted.
"I remember you said that. Anyway, after talking to my doctor, I started on magnesium glycinate."
"And...?" she prodded.
"All I can say is, damn, magnesium, where have you been all my life?"
She laughed, which prompted a smile from me. It felt really good to make her laugh. Why did it feel so good?
"Now I fall asleep fast, sleep through the night, and wake up rested. I haven't had a headache in over a week. So, Ms. Washington, I canceled the appointment with the specialist my doctor referred me to. Unless something changes, I don't need to see him. Thank you."
"You're welcome," she said softly.
Tension drained from my body. Our polite, friendly exchange was a turning point. Our initial meeting had been adversarial, but clearly, we could be cordial.
"We only have an hour, so do you want to get started?" Tallulah asked.
"Sure. Which one?"
"How about this?" She pointed to the cake labeled classic vanilla bean.
Much more relaxed than when I had arrived, I picked up a fork. "Let's do this."
I put a morsel in my mouth and chewed. Tasted good but simple, was moist, and sweet without being sugary. I made an involuntary, appreciative sound.
A faint smile touched Tallulah's lips. What color was on her mouth? It was deeper than red and emphasized the plump lusciousness of her lips.
"I agree. Solid choice, in my opinion."
"Not bad at all." I graded the cake and wrote additional feedback in the notes section of the scorecard.
"Do you want to pick the next one?" she asked.
I eyed the options. "How about the lemon with raspberry filling?"
"Never a bad choice."
We tried the sample. I wrinkled my nose.
"You don't like it?" Tallulah asked.
"It's not terrible. A little tart for my taste."
"Interesting. To me, the flavors are perfectly blended."
We graded the cake and wrote our notes. Next was an almond cake with Biscoff buttercream.
We tried the sample.
"Damn," we both said at the same time.
Then we burst into laughter.
"Imagine that, the two of us agreeing on something," I said.
"We didn't have a choice. This is unbelievably good. Moist, great flavor, not too sweet."
"I don't want anything else. This is it. Check, please."
Tallulah laughed at my joke. If she kept laughing, I had no choice but to keep making jokes.
I scraped leftover crumbs and icing from the plate, and she tried to block me. We ended up in a playful silverware battle, fighting for the last bit of our favorite so far.
Next was a chocolate cake with chocolate ganache, which we both agreed was too rich.
We tried the honey lavender cake next. As I chewed, I noticed the flavor was a little off. The cake was decent, with a floral note that didn't overwhelm, but there was another flavor underneath I was struggling to identify.
"Do you taste that?" I asked.
Tallulah nodded, her expression becoming contemplative.
"Kinda earthy, isn't it?" I asked.
"I was going to say herbal."
"Like rosemary, or..." I struggled to find the words for the unfamiliar taste.
"Something else. I don't think it's the lavender, either. Shelley uses a lot of organic ingredients and local honey. Could be something local we're not familiar with," she suggested.
"Hmm. Maybe."
We both sat there for a moment, chewing slowly.
Riley popped her head in the door. "Everything okay in here?"
"We're fine. There was an unusual herbal flavor in the lavender honey cake. Any idea what it could be?" Tallulah asked.
"No, ma'am, but I'll ask Shelley when she comes back."
"No need. I was just curious."
"If you don't have any more questions, I'll help Jenny close up shop."
"Go ahead, you don't need to babysit us. We know where to find you if we need help."
After she left, I raked my gaze over the choices left. "What's next?"
"There's one filled with strawberry. Let's try it," Tallulah said.
We tried another piece of cake and another, and after a while, I began to feel... odd. I wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but I felt myself slowing down and the edges of the room became... softer.
I leaned back in the chair. "I am so relaxed right now." Was I talking slower?
Tallulah laughed. Then I laughed.
The two of us kept laughing.
"Why was that so funny?" I asked.
"I don't know. I guess because I feel really relaxed too." She covered her mouth and giggled uncontrollably.
I tapped her cotton bag sitting on the table. "Pretty. I liked the one you had at Knife & Fork too. How many of these bags do you have?" What the hell was wrong with me, telling her how much I liked her accessories? I was out of control.
"These bags?"
Was she slurring her words? Was I?
"Um..." She tapped her chin and gazed up at the ceiling, taking forever to answer. I might have briefly fallen asleep. "At least thirty."
"Thirty!" I exclaimed, so loudly she jumped. "Thirty is a lot," I said, dropping my voice to a whisper.
"I know. I love them so, so, so much. They're the best. Comfortable, go with anything, and can hold..." Her brow wrinkled.
I tilted my head. "Something wrong?"
She rubbed a hand across her eyes. "I forgot what I was about to say."
"Me too."
"You forgot what I was about to say?"
"Yeah. I think..." What I said didn't make sense.
We stared at each other in confusion for a moment and then burst into uncontrollable laughter.
"I feel so goddamn good right now." I pointed at the ceiling. "Four score and seven years ago..."
Tallulah snorted in laughter. "What are you doing?"
"I think I'm quoting the Gettysburg Address. Am I?"
"I have no idea."
Trying to ground myself, I took a sip of water and then placed the glass on the table with extra care. "I'm not feeling like myself right now."
"Me neither."
We stared at each other. Then our gazes lowered to the remaining samples. I lifted my eyes, she lifted her eyes, and we locked gazes.
"The cakes," we said simultaneously.
"Oh, shit," Tallulah said, slapping her forehead and laughing. "Rhonda gave us the wrong samples. I mean, Riley."
We burst into laughter again. What a mess. We were supposed to be deciding on a wedding cake. Instead, we were sitting in a bakery, possibly high, laughing like a couple of hyenas.
"No more cake for you," Tallulah said, reaching for her water.
"You either," I said.
I watched her drain the glass, tilting her head way back. A line of water dribbled down her chin. My lips parted, and my tongue thrust forward. I ached to lick the water from her skin.
She wiped it off the way little kids do—with the back of her hand.
We both looked at each other across the table.
She truly did have the most beautiful brown eyes, and her lips were temptingly full.
My eyes traced the curves of her mouth—the soft bow of her upper lip, the fuller swell of the lower one.
I had the sudden, demanding urge to know how they felt beneath mine.
"Jamison." She said my name in a soft voice, as if asking me a question.
"Yes?"
"We should probably let them know we're finished."
My eyes shifted to a light speck on her dark skin. "You have a little bit of frosting..." My voice was thick and heavy.
"Where?"
"Let me show you."
I staggered to my feet and swayed a little but held onto the table for balance. Dropping into the chair beside her, I leaned forward, bringing my face inches from hers.
"Right. Here," I whispered huskily, brushing my thumb against her soft cheek.
She didn't withdraw, and my hand lingered.
Her eyes dropped to my mouth, and my stomach reflexively tensed. I was thinking of doing the unthinkable. I was thinking of kissing this woman.
My gaze swept over the fullness of her lips, and a yawning ache expanded inside me.
"Jamison." She said my name in a trembling whisper. An invitation, no doubt.
Her eyelids lowered and her mouth tilted up toward mine.
"Mom?"
I jerked back so fast, my elbow knocked the carafe off the table and sent water and glass splashing all over the floor.