Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Joy
Eve
I have an opening this afternoon.
Me
I’ll take it!
Eve
3 p.m. I have time for color and cut.
Me
Perfect, thank you!
I smile as I slip my cell phone back into my pocket and finish icing cupcakes for the display case.
After chatting with my sister earlier when she and John stopped for their caffeine fix, I mentioned wanting to do something different with my hair.
She thought she’d have time today to work me in, and I’m so happy to hear she can.
I don’t know what I want to do exactly. I have to leave it long enough to pull back when baking, but I think I want to add bangs.
Not like when we were in high school and you just took a pair of scissors to them and regretted it later.
Nothing blunt or harsh. I’m thinking swooping bangs across my face I can sweep to the side.
Maybe I’ll try to find a picture I can show Eve.
The bell chimes above the door, and I keep working, knowing Jan will handle the arriving customers.
I got dang lucky when she walked in to be interviewed right before I opened.
I wasn’t sure if I would be able to swing employees, especially at first, but she’s been nothing but a godsend.
Not only is she friendly and excellent at customer service, but she quickly picked up on what it would take to be a barista and make the specialty drinks we serve.
Our menu isn’t as extensive as those chain coffee shops, but we have a decent selection to pair with whatever sweet treat you’re craving.
“Joy, you have a visitor.”
I look to the front of the bakery, and spot Burk standing at the counter. Unable to fight a smile, I flash one at his sudden appearance and wave him back. “What are you doing here?” I ask, knowing he’s on his way to visit his grandpa.
“I thought I’d stop by and grab something for Gramps. You know how he is with his sweet tooth,” he says as he makes his way to where I stand.
“I just put some traditional decorated sugar cookies in the display case,” I tell him, setting my piping bag down on the workstation.
“I did see those, but what are these?” he asks, moving to stand beside me. I feel the heat of his body, even though we’re not touching, and catch the woodsy scent of his soap on his skin. He smells better than all the sugar cookies in the world.
Clearing my throat, I glance down at the cupcakes. “Cherry chip cupcakes with buttercream Christmas trees on top,” I tell him, loving how cute the mountain of frosting looks on top of the small piece of cake.
“Oh, I think he’d love one of those,” Burk agrees, practically licking his lips.
A giggle slips from my lips as I turn to grab a small pastry box. “Gramps would love one or Burk would love one?”
“Yes.”
I take a quick second to assemble the box before adding, “Well, I’ll send you with two so you can enjoy them together.”
“Thanks,” he says, propping a hip against the counter and watching me. “I’ll probably add a few cookies too.”
“Of course.”
“Gram said not to buy him those processed Christmas tree cakes he loves so much, but why would I do that when he can have a delicious homemade treat instead?”
I stick out my tongue. “Those things taste like wax. I used to love them when I was little, but now that I’m older and make my own treats, I can’t even stomach eating them.”
“I think you’ve ruined me too, Easy-Bake,” he states, taking the small box that holds two cupcakes perfectly.
“That just means when you need a sweet fix, you have to come here to get it,” I tease, realizing immediately my mistake.
Burk’s only here for a few more weeks, and then he’ll be back home in South Carolina.
Him dropping by the bakery will end, and I don’t like the way my stomach—and my heart—feel at that thought.
He just grins back at me and doesn’t dwell on the fact his time here has an expiration date. “So,” he starts, rocking back on his heels, “I’m nervous.”
“Why?”
“Because I haven’t seen him in fifteen years.”
“But he’s so excited you’re coming to visit. Your gram told my dad that. He wants to mend your relationship.”
He nods. “I know. She basically told me the same thing last night at dinner, but, I guess, what if we don’t really have anything in common? What if it’s just awkward and uncomfortable?”
“Well, then you leave,” I tell him bluntly.
“But honestly, I don’t think it’s going to be.
You’re a lot more like your grandpa than you think.
You’re both hard workers and love to do things with your hands.
Once that initial tension is broken, I truly believe you’re going to fall into easy conversation, and it won’t feel like the last fifteen years have passed at all. ”
He gives a grateful look, as if I said exactly what he needed to hear. I know he’s anxious to see his grandpa, and I don’t blame him. It’s been a lot of years. But I believe wholeheartedly that everything will be just fine.
“Oh, I talked to my uncle about leaving early Saturday. I’m off at four, so I’ll run up to the house and shower and change. I should be to your place around five.”
“Okay, great. Do you have skates?”
He groans and shakes his head. “I knew you were going to ask that, and no. I’ll have to rent them.”
“But you will skate with me, right?”
“I will. I haven’t done it since I lived here, and something tells me it’s not quite like riding a bike. Especially since I wasn’t that good at it the first time around.”
I just beam up at him with excitement. “I can’t wait. Eve skates with me but complains the whole time. She’d much rather ride all the spinny carnival rides than go ice skating.”
“Well, no worries, Easy-Bake. We have a date. Maybe if I slip and fall every four minutes you’ll take mercy on me and give me a good rubdown,” he replies jovially, but then sobers.
I can tell the moment his words infiltrate his brain, and he catches his innuendo. Of course, my own brain has zeroed in on his words, and I can’t help but think about giving him a good rubdown after skating. In my mind, we’re both naked—or well on our way to being—when it happens.
“Anyway,” he mutters, a faint blush on his cheeks. “I should get on the road.”
“Let me know how it goes,” I start before adding, “if you want.”
He flashes a quick grin. “I want. I’ll chat with you later,” he says, picking up the two cupcakes and adding, “Thanks for these.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m gonna stop up front and grab a few cookies to go with them. That’ll be sure to give him a sugar rush before I leave.”
“Mmmm, I love a good sugar rush,” I tell him.
He chuckles. “I bet you do.” Then, he leans in and brushes his lips across mine. “If that’s the kind of sugar you’re offering, I do enjoy a good sugar rush myself.”
My giggle comes out all giddy, and I practically swoon at his comment. And the kiss.
I watch as he walks around the counter and picks out a few of the holiday-themed sugar cookies.
Jan bags them up and gives him a total. After he pays, he looks back into the kitchen and waves.
I return the gesture and watch as he exits the building, his jeans accentuating what little bit of his ass I can see beneath his coat.
Turning my attention back to the cupcakes, I let my fingers brush across my lips. The kiss was chaste, too quick for my liking, but it still packed a punch. It does every single time our lips connect.
Kissing him has become my sugar rush.
“I have an idea,” my sister says as soon as I sit in her chair.
A single eyebrow shoots upward. “An idea?”
Eve nods eagerly. “It’s a little different, but I think it’s going to look so amazing on you.”
“Are you going to tell me what it is?” I ask, somewhat hesitantly.
My sister continues to stare at me through the mirror. “I don’t want to, but I will, because if you hated it, I’d feel awful. Not that I think you wouldn’t like it, because I think you totally will. It’s a slightly different style and a fresh color.”
“Okay,” I reply with a casual shrug. “I trust you.”
She pulls out her phone and cues up a photo. “This is the cut,” she replies, handing over the device. “It’s an angled lob, and it would work well with your oval face.”
“I like it,” I tell her, realizing instantly that I do. It’s shorter than I was thinking, but it’s super cute with longer hair in the front and shorter hair in the back.
“And I thought maybe we could try this…” She pulls up another photo on her phone and shows me the screen.
“Oh.”
“It’s darker than we normally do, but I think this color of chestnut would really complement the cut.”
She’s right, it’s darker and provides more all-over coverage. Usually, I just use highlights or lowlights to give my dark-blond hair depth, but this would change my color entirely.
I flip back and forth between the cut and the color a few more times before lifting my head and meeting her gaze. “Let’s do it.”
“Really?” she asks, her green eyes, the same color as my own, sparkling.
“Yep.”
“If you hate the darker color, we can always fix it,” she tells me, grabbing the cape and wrapping it around my neck.
“I’m not going to hate it,” I reassure.
“What did she think?” Mom comes up front after mixing her own client’s color in the back room.
“We’re doing it,” Eve announces, earning a big smile from our mom.
“That style is so popular right now, and I agree that it’ll look great on you,” Mom says, pulling a stack of foil squares off her cart.
“And I think it’ll still be long enough to pull back while I’m at the bakery,” I add, hoping that’s true.
Looking at Eve in the mirror, she gives me a knowing nod. “Yep, I’ll make sure you can still pull it back.”