Chapter 38 Pumpkin Muffins
Chapter thirty-eight
Pumpkin Muffins
Jasmine Chamberlain
I smile as I pop a muffin out of the tin and set it on a wire rack to cool.
The scent of pumpkin spice and chocolate fills the air.
Each muffin is a perfect orange, tinged around the edges with a touch of brown and accented with large sugar crystals that will add a sweet crunch to each bite.
I got up extra early this morning to make them because I knew I wouldn’t have time later today.
Soon I’ll be cheering in the parade; then I’ll be at the tailgate with our mascot, Theodore the Thrasher, taking photos with fans.
After that comes the game, and then some of the girls from the team begged me to go to an after-party with them, so I’ll head there.
Since it’s going to be a busy day, I decided I would run by Shepherd’s dorm to drop off these muffins before I go to the parade.
My first time baking for him, to celebrate the last day of our relationship being a secret.
And if I happen to run into anyone in his hall, I’ll hand them a muffin and say I’m giving them out to everyone for homecoming week. No one in college questions free food.
“What smells so good, and does it go with coffee?” Marigold asks as she stumbles into the kitchen with bleary eyes.
“Late night?” I ask her.
“You could say that,” she mutters as she plops onto one of the barstools.
Her red curls are sticking up everywhere, pushed back from her face by a soft black headband.
She’s got on a faded green sweatshirt with a crackled white design.
I squint at the logo. Is that…a hockey stick?
My eyebrows raise as I recall Jameson’s hockey sweatshirt from the other day.
If the two are connected, I’m certainly not bringing it up while she’s in this state.
“I’ll start the coffee if you eat one of the egg bites from the fridge and drink some water,” I negotiate with her. “And these are Shepherd’s muffins, but I’ve got a batch of cinnamon streusel with your name on them in the oven.”
I wanted to be able to tell Shepherd that these are, without a doubt, just for him. Owen might try to steal one, but I made them for Shepherd and Shepherd alone.
She sighs like I’m asking the world of her. “Deal.” Her ink-smudged hands lift to her face, and she rubs her eyes with a concerning amount of aggression. When she moves them away, she gasps. “Are those pumpkin chocolate chip?”
I smile as I head to the coffee maker. “Maybe.”
“You said they’re for Shepherd.”
“I did.” I bite my lip.
The barstool scrapes on the ground. I look over my shoulder in time to see Marigold banging on Saylor’s door.
“What are you doing?” I hiss. “It’s six in the morning!”
I have to be at the starting point for the parade at seven thirty for line up, so I’ve been up for hours doing full glam plus hair and making two different types of muffins.
Saylor’s door flings open. She squints at Marigold, one of her lavender under-eye patches halfway down her face. Her matching pajamas feature soft purple clouds.
“Is there a fire?” Saylor rasps, not sounding like her usual peppy self.
“No, Jasmine is making pumpkin chocolate chip muffins for Shepherd,” Marigold says as if that’s more dire than the building going up in flames.
Saylor’s sleepy squint turns into a wide-eyed stare.
“It’s not that big of a deal,” I say, but Saylor is already squealing and running to Aurora’s door.
“No,” I hear Aurora say, but Saylor keeps knocking and yelling about marriage muffins.
“Please don’t make a big deal out of this,” I say as they all join me in the kitchen.
Aurora is wearing an oversized shirt that features the princess who shares her name. I look at it, then at her face.
She grimaces. “My mom bought it for me.”
I nod in understanding. “I’m sorry they woke you; I tried to tell them not to.”
Aurora shrugs. “It’s big news.”
I laugh. “They’re just muffins.”
“No way,” Marigold scoffs. “You bake something new every week, but the first time you repeat just happens to be the muffins we designated as marriage muffins?”
I throw my hands in the air. “Okay, fine, I really like Shepherd. I want to be around him all the time, and when I thought of making him something, these came to mind.”
“Is he marriage-candidate material?” Saylor asks with a wide grin, leaning on the kitchen counter.
“What do you mean by that? Because if you mean is he kind and thoughtful and a gentleman? Then yes. Or are you asking if I could see myself marrying him one day?”
It’s too fast to be thinking of him in that way, but if I let myself daydream a little too long…
The girls must see something in my expression that gives me away because Saylor squeals and shakes Marigold. Aurora smiles at the exchange, her sleepy eyes slightly upturned.
“Do you love him?” Marigold asks when Saylor stops rattling her.
I look down at the cooling muffins. Do I love Shepherd? He challenges me and gets on my last nerve sometimes, but…he also checked on me when I got hurt and taught me chess, made me laugh, remembered my favorite candy, and fed me chocolate bonbons after I cried in his lap.
I tug on a wrinkled corner of my apron, the one covering up his jersey. My lips lift into a smile. “I think I do,” I confess.
Saylor squeals again, Marigold laughs, and Aurora smiles a little bigger than normal. It’s in the middle of this cozy celebration that someone knocks on our apartment door.
“Who’s knocking at this time?” I ask with a frown.
“You don’t think I was too loud, do you? I hope we aren’t in trouble,” Saylor panics.
“I’ll go see,” I say, and head to the door.
I look through the peephole and gasp. On the other side is the man I just admitted I was in love with. I quickly unlock and fling open the door.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
Shepherd holds up a carrier with two coffee cups but keeps his other hand tucked behind his back. “I know we’re going to have a long day, so I thought we could have coffee together before you had to go to the parade.”
My smile widens. “That sounds perfect. I actually have something to go with those coffees too.”
“Yeah?” His eyes rove over me. A decadent heat curls through me at the look in his eyes. “Is that my jersey?”
I spin in a circle so he can see his name on the back where the apron doesn’t cover it.
“Did you think it would be someone else’s?” I ask cheekily.
“Never,” he says in a low tone that makes me shiver.
“Are you going to come inside and show me what you’re hiding?” I ask with a giggle as I take the two coffees from him.
He remembered my favorite, the iced cinnamuch latte from Sweet Bean, and I think my face is going to be stuck in a permanent grin because of this man.
Shepherd comes inside, somehow managing to keep his surprise hidden while pulling off his sneakers. Once he’s out of his shoes, he pulls out a bouquet of—
I tilt my head to the side, a giggle bubbling out of me. “Are those herbs?”
He gives me a shy grin. “I thought you might like them better than flowers, though I’ll get you those too,” he tacks on the end in a rush.
I take them from him and breathe in the earthy mixture. There’s Italian parsley, cilantro, rosemary, thyme, and even a few sprigs of pretty lavender in there. He must have arranged this himself and tied it with butcher’s twine.
“This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” I tell him. “Thank you.”
He bends down and places a soft kiss on my lips. “You deserve all of this and more.”
A chorus of giggles erupts from the kitchen. “I thought your roommates would be asleep right now.”
I sigh. “Me too.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll leave you two to your coffee date,” Saylor says as we enter the kitchen.
“But I wanted coffee,” Marigold whines.
Saylor tugs on her sweatshirt and hisses, “Later.”
Aurora shrugs and heads back to her bedroom. It’s then that I notice she’s wearing fluffy pink slippers. Hmm. Wouldn’t have thought her to be a fluffy slipper girl.
Saylor drags Marigold to her room while promising her she can have coffee soon. Finally, we’re alone.
I set the coffees and my perfect bouquet on the counter, then turn to Shepherd.
“I was actually going to come by to see you on my way to the parade,” I tell him.
He grins. “Great minds think alike.”
“I have a gift for you too.”
His brows shoot up. I turn and grab one of the muffins, then walk over and hold it out to him.
“Pumpkin chocolate chip muffins baked by me…” I meet his sparkling blue eyes. “For you.”
He looks as if he might confess that he’s in love with me right here and now. My heart stutters. I wouldn’t mind if he did. He takes the muffin, handling it like it’s a diamond necklace instead of a baked good.
“I’ve never had a chef bake something just for me.”
“And you still haven’t because, I repeat, I am not a chef.”
I squeal as he snags my wrist and pulls me to him. He dips down and gives me a slow, full kiss. Then he pulls back and whispers, “Yet.”