Chapter 1 #2
“Well then,” she said, sticking me with the pin of the badge—I flinched a little, but she had her eyes on the cake. “What flavor is it? And can I take a slice for George too?”
Keaton looked at me and I nodded—I was too busy pressing my lips together hard to ease the slight pain from the pin prick. “Absolutely,” he said. “One slice per customer. And I’m not sure about the flavor.”
“Of course,” she said, turning and looking at me. “Come on, birthday boy. What flavors?”
“Bottom layer is chocolate,” I said. “It has a vanilla cream. Second layer is vanilla with strawberry. And the top layer is a hazelnut coffee. That one’s my favorite.
” It was tiered, almost like a wedding cake—oh, Jesus, it was exactly like a wedding cake.
“And the purple is just a sweet vanilla rolled icing.”
As Maggie made up her mind, I quickly went into the kitchen again, telling myself nothing else could go wrong today. Toby snickered at the badge, and I reminded him I would save it for his birthday—although Maggie would probably be here that day too with a badge for him to wear.
“Are you going to wear it all day?” he asked.
“Maggie will be in and out, so I’ll have to,” I grumbled, grabbing a hair net and slipping it over my head.
I had nice hair, often described as luscious locks, and people didn’t need those in their baked goods.
I also grabbed a pair of gloves and tried not to snap the wrists too much—they were prone to pulling air in and breaking, then contaminating an entire batch of cupcakes, but they were blue, so very easy to fish out.
I shuddered at those early mistakes I’d made.
More customers arrived after Maggie, taking pieces of cake.
I saw the progress with each batch of cupcakes I brought out.
People came by daily to see what new cupcake creations I’d made.
I loved strawberry, so if I could ever stuff jelly inside a cake, I would.
We made most of the jams and jellies ourselves, which was a lot of fun.
We didn’t sell them in the jars they were stored in, but if Keaton ever mentioned we were making a loss, they were the first things to be added to the bakery shelves.
Baking was my happy safe space, although sometimes, like on my birthday when I got all reflective, it helped me process and order my thoughts.
I went through the stages of angry baking as a teen, thinking my mom and dad were homophobic, but they were sweet about it, and they supported me through culinary school, my first boyfriend, and the bakery.
They were local, but my mom worked odd hours at a nearby hospital as a nurse, and my dad was a long-haul driver—it meant I wasn’t seeing either of them today, unless they came by briefly.
They usually just gave me a card and some cash anyway.
Keaton’s voice cut through my thoughts. “There’s someone here to see you,” he said.
I’d been mesmerized by the whisk beating the cupcake batter.
“Who?” My throat sank into my gut. Keaton shrugged with a smirk.
“Who?” I asked again. After my spiraling thoughts, I didn’t need to be confronted with it.
“Please just say if it’s something good.
” I looked from my spot in the kitchen, directly ahead, but there was a white beam in place, almost a separator from the kitchen to the storefront.
“Come and see,” he said. “I don’t know if you know them.”
Even Toby was interested now, putting down the piping bag. “If you’re not going to, I will.”
I stropped out of the kitchen and right through to see him.
He must’ve been taller than six foot, dressed like a lumberjack in his plaid. That rough tussled hair and his big grin stretching right across his face. It was Rick, the fire captain.
A groan came out. “Have you come to lecture me?”
“No,” he said plainly.
I placed my hand over the badge—as if that did anything, the thing was fucking huge. “Well, I’m sorry for making you get up and ready for a fire that didn’t happen.”
He smirked. “Well, it’s happened a little often lately,” he said. “Happy birthday. I got you something.”
“You really didn’t—”
Rick placed a card on the counter. “This is my number.” He added a small box on top of his card. “And this is a surprise teddy, I think.”
I looked at it. It was one of those blind boxes. “You really didn’t have to.” I finished my earlier thought.
“I’m the fire captain. I’ve got to make sure everyone in Sugar Bay gets attention, and that includes you, Caspian,” he said. “And this is something Maggie said you’d like.”
My eye twitched and I pushed harder on the badge, unpinning it, and with the free needle, I pricked myself again. “Fudge.” I winced as the badge fell from my T-shirt. “I didn’t know you were talking about me.” I was looking at Keaton, who was invested in the conversation it seemed.
He shrugged. “She does the talking. And four false alarms in two weeks? I’m wondering if you need me to check the fire alarm system, or if you just wanted me to come over. So, if you do need me, you’ve got my number now. And I hope you enjoy your teddy.”
I was speechless. “Th-thank you.”
“While I’m here, I’ll take . . . What do you recommend, Caspian?”
Me? On a plate? Served up with whipped cream like Chris Evans in Not Another Teen Movie. Instead of saying anything, I stood there, quiet—mute. Fuck, no, that wasn’t possible. Rick was straight up making eyes at me. Maybe he was curious. Daddy curious? Perhaps.