21. Ginger-Oh-Snaps
Ginger-Oh-Snaps
"This way," I holler, shopping list in hand as I read the aisle categories at Whole Heart Foods. The faster this takes, the better. Jesse sticks out like a sore thumb among the hemp-wearing hippies and CrossFit Chads. "Jesse!"
"This place is ridiculous." Jesse picks up a bag of kale chips, scowling at the green packaging. His face twists up with disgust. Predictable as ever. "Who eats this sort of crap?"
"It's not crap," I huff, yanking the bag out of his hand and placing it back on the shelf.
I should've asked Marlow for a ride, but I have a feeling she'd be busting my balls just as hard, if not more.
"It's a healthy alternative that many, many people find enjoyable.
" I grab the corner of his leather vest, dragging him down to the baking aisle.
"You might even like some of the things in here. "
"Doubtful," Jesse says, holding out the shopping basket as I peruse the shelves for chocolate chips, hemp hearts, and other goodies to put into the cookies. He releases a violently vocal yawn. "I'm getting hungry, princess. Just pick something already."
"Maybe if you snacked on healthy things like nuts and veggies instead of chips, you wouldn't be hungry," I mutter under my breath as I toss five bags of chocolate chips, hemp hearts, and chia seeds into the basket. I glance up at him. "We literally just had burgers. How are you hungry again?"
"I don't know," Jesse says, cocking his head.
"Maybe I burned all my reserved calories listening to you belt out the entire Chicago soundtrack on the drive up to this fucking hellhole.
" He lifts a bag of chocolate chips from the basket and looks at the price tag on the shelf.
"We drove over an hour to spend forty dollars on chocolate chips?
" He flips the bag over and reads the ingredients. "What's this made out of? Cocaine?!"
"It's made with stevia ," I state. "It's a sugar substitute naturally derived from the stevia plant. My momma used to buy these all the time. They're actually quite tasty when you bake 'em in something."
Jesse blinks, picking up another bag. "And these? What the fuck are hemp hearts?"
"Oh my gosh, they're good for you, okay?" I groan, throwing my head back. "They'll taste delicious, trust me. I'm sure they'll be a hit at the Toy Drive."
Jesse snorts. "You're making these for the Toy Drive ?"
"Yeah! Jo approved my idea of a bake sale," I beam. "I'm gonna make cookies and sell 'em at the fundraiser. She also loved my idea of an auction."
"I think your heart is in a good place, princess." Jesse gives me a warm smile. "But no one's gonna wanna spend seven dollars on a cookie." He nods at the prince tags. "And that's what you're gonna have to charge if you want to make any profit."
"Sure they will," I insist. "It's homemade with organic ingredients. People are willing to pay for quality these days, Jesse."
" Some people, sure," Jesse says, slowly placing the items from the basket back on the shelf.
My pride withers as he continues, "But you gotta remember who your target market is.
" He puts two fingers under my chin, lifting my now grumpy head.
"Do you really see Tiny or Rocco buying hemp heart and stevia cookies? "
"Not really," I mutter, pouting. "This sucks; I really wanted to help out in some way."
"You can still make normal cookies ," Jesse says in a gentle tone like he's talking to a child on the brink of a meltdown. "I'll even find my mom's old recipe for you. She made these bomb gingersnaps for the boys on Thanksgiving one year. They were a hit."
"Gingersnaps?" I ask, nibbling on my bottom lip.
His momma's recipe?! A new recipe?! My pulse skitters, tummy coiling at the idea. I’m going to mess it up.
I'm going to ruin it. I can barely make this recipe, and I've done it dozens of times.
My fingers tingle. "Those umm...those sound complicated.
I'm not the best baker on the block, Jesse.
I'll surely fudge 'em up or, worse , burn your house down. "
"You'll be fine." Jesse chuckles, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and giving me a tight squeeze. My frown deepens, and he gives my temple a quick side kiss. " But I'll leave the fire extinguisher on the table just in case."
"Maybe I should tell Jo that the bake sale is a no-go," I say as Jesse drops the empty basket in the holder at the front of the store.
"Instead, I could do a lemonade stand or—" I flick my nails, a big ole wave of anxiety washing over me.
Shoot . “I mean, lemonade is just three ingredients, right? I could?—"
"Don't worry, Sav," Jesse says, facing me. He reads my panicked expression like a dang coloring book. "You'll be fine. Plus, if you fuck up the first batch, you still got the second and third..."
"But I've never done it before," I whisper, heartbeat picking up speed as I remember tumbling off the stage mid-talent portion at a pageant many years back.
"What if I burn 'em? What if they come out hard as steel?
" My eyes widen, my pulse racing. "What if they stick to the pan?
No, I can't do it. I can't." I point a sharp finger back to the baking aisle.
"I know how to make those, Jesse. I know how to make 'em perfectly, but gingersnaps? ! I've never made gingersnaps before?—"
"Wow, take a breath.” Jesse’s gaze bounces between my frantic eyes as he grabs my shaking hand. "What's going on, Sav?"
"I don't know," I say in a trembling tone, unable to swallow away the ball of nerves in the back of my throat. "I?—"
Failure. Disappointment. Useless. Those three words ring in my ears. My mother's voice bulldozes through my conscience, knocking away all the sturdy towers of self- worth I've been trying to rebuild for years. One crashes after another, my hands trembling, my chest rising.
“Hey, you’re okay. Come here." Jesse pulls me into a hug, stroking the back of my head as I close my eyes and count my breaths. His embrace serves as a refuge, and I fight to barricade the doors from infiltrating thoughts. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to?—"
"It's not—" I swallow hard, willing my mind to calm down as I breathe in his familiar scent of protection. "I just... I don't want to mess up. I don't want to let everyone down..."
"It's okay," Jesse mumbles against my temple. "There's no pressure here, Sav. No one's going to be angry with you, okay?"
"Okay..."
You're fine. You're safe. You're capable.
I wrap my arms tight around Jesse, repeating the mantra in my head until I start believing it. Gosh, it's been a hot minute since I've felt this way. Jesse holds me, tenderly rubbing my back as I wait for the nerves to pass.
"You must think that I'm stupid, huh?" I mutter quietly into his chest, unable to look at him. "Who flips out over dang cookies?"
"I don't think you're stupid," Jesse says, palming the back of my head, the warmth from his skin soothing my nerves like a mug of steamed milk. "And neither should you."
He means it. I can tell. There are no lies in his tone, only concern and a hint of justifiable fear. I feel it too. Maybe for a different reason.
He continues cautiously, "I...I think it's normal to get worried about things, Sav, especially things you've never tried before.
" He pulls away, features soft and tame and frightening to my heart.
"You care, and you want to do a good job.
That's not stupid, Savannah. Not at all.
" He hesitates, contemplating his next question.
"Is this...is this why you won't learn to swim? Because you're afraid of failing?"
Failure is never an option, Savannah. Again. Go again. Head up. Shoulders straight. Again. Again. Again.
I wince, uncomfortable with his keen observation. "Umm...no. We can uh—we can do lessons tomorrow if you want."
"You say that every time I bring it up," he says, brushing my hair behind my ear. "Eventually, tomorrow is going to have to come, Sav."
"I know that," I whisper, a rebound bolt of nerves creeping up my throat. "We can uh—we can do it tomorrow. Really this time."
"Maybe Sunday," Jesse says with a warm smile, clasping his fingers through mine as he leads us out of the automatic doors. "Tomorrow, we've got some cookies to bake."
"We?" I ask, lifting my head up. "You gonna help me?"
"Depends." Jesse shrugs, tossing me a playful smirk. "You gonna wear an apron?" He wiggles his brows. " Only an apron?"
"Only an apron?" I ask, managing a small smile. "Is that the only way you'd help me? If I'm naked?"
"I'd help you either way"—Jesse grins—"but we've got to do something while we wait for the timer." He tosses me a wink. "Might as well do each other. What do you say, princess?"
"I say bring on the apron." I peer up at him skeptically. "You're really gonna bake cookies with me? Seriously?"
"Trust me," Jesse snorts, unlocking his truck. "I'm equally shocked. Now, get in, my little gingersnap, before I change my mind."
Gosh, I love baking cookies.
And I love waiting for the timer to ding even more.
"Holy fuck," Jesse grunts, twisting my hair around his wrist, our flesh slapping together as he bends me over the dining room table and freaking annihilates me. "You feel so goddamn good around my cock."
"Don't stop," I cry out, gripping the edge of the table as my eyes damn near roll to the back of my head. My insides clench and vibrate and explode from euphoria as he slips in and out of me at the perfect pace. "Oh my God, Jesse! Yes, keep going. Don't stop! Don't stop."
"Come for me, princess." Jesse aggressively snakes his hand around my throat, my back arching, my breasts bouncing in all directions as he pulls me against his chest. His balmy, panting breath dances against the side of my sticky skin as he rasps into my ear, "Come for daddy?—"
"Hello?! Any one home?”