Chapter 27
"I developed an app into a billion-dollar business. How hard can baking a cake be?" ~ Jeremy
Jeremy
I pace the guest bedroom in Eli’s mansion as I try to figure out what the hell to do. I really fucked up. I treated Parker like a gold digger when she’s the farthest thing from one.
I pick up the phone to ring her to apologize but what good is a phone call going to do? I fling the phone on the bed and resume my pacing.
I need to apologize to Parker. This relationship has an expiration date, but I’m not ready to say goodbye to her. Not yet. I want to spend as much time with her as possible until I leave Smuggler’s Hideaway.
The phone rings and I rush toward it. Miranda calling.
Women like Miranda are the reason I’m in this mess to begin with. I treated Parker the way those women want to be treated.
But not Parker. She doesn’t care about money. She cares about this island, her community, her friends, baked goods, and chocolate.
Chocolate! That’s it!
I’ll buy her a cake. No. Buying a cake isn’t enough. I’ll bake her an apology cake. How hard can it be?
I check my watch. The bakery should be closed now. I still have the key to the back door. I can sneak into the kitchen and bake Parker a cake. When she arrives in the morning and sees it, she’ll rush to forgive me.
Thirty minutes later, I’m in the bakery googling a chocolate cake recipe. I choose one with only three steps. I’ve got this.
I dig around in Parker’s pantry. Once I’ve gathered all of the ingredients I need, I grab a bowl and get started.
I throw all of the dry ingredients into the bowl and mix them. This is easy.
I read the recipe, add the eggs, vanilla, and oil. Mix for two minutes on medium speed with an electric mixer.
Electric mixer. Electric mixer. Where is Parker’s electric mixer?
There’s a mixer with a bowl attached on the table but I already have a bowl. And, honestly, the machine appears a bit complicated.
I search her cupboard and come up with a hand mixer. Perfect.
I place the mixer in the bowl, switch it on, and bam! Flour flies everywhere. Shit. I switch it off and swipe a hand over my face, which is now covered in flour.
Easy cake recipe, my ass.
I gather up as much flour from the table as possible and add it back to the bowl. I mix the ingredients with a spoon. Once I’m confident there’s no dry flour to attack me anymore, I use the electric mixer to finish mixing the ingredients.
The recipe said to mix for two minutes but after two minutes, I notice the mixture is still lumpy. I decide to double the mixing time.
Now, we’re getting somewhere.
Pour the batter into a pan.
Oh, right. I need a pan. I scan the room. There are pans everywhere. Of every shape and size. What size do I need?
I re-read the recipe but it doesn’t mention anything about a pan size. I shrug. I guess it doesn’t matter. I pour the batter into a sheet pan.
Wait. The recipe said ‘prepared’ pan. What does ‘prepared’ mean?
Grease and flour the pan. Uh oh. I skipped that line.
Oh well. The batter is in the pan now. I slide the pan into the oven.
There. All I need to do now is clean up and Parker will arrive tomorrow morning to a wonderful surprise. And then she’ll forgive me. I hope.
The door bangs open and Parker stomps inside. “What in the name of the mermaids in the sea is happening here?”
I gesture to the oven. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Obvious?” She lifts a brow. “The oven isn’t on.”
“Shit. The recipe didn’t say to switch on the oven.”
“Really? There wasn’t any mention of pre-heating the oven.”
“Preheat? You have to preheat the oven?”
She marches to the oven and peers inside. She flinches at the view before clearing her throat. “If you don’t preheat the oven, the cake will bake unevenly.”
“Okay. Let me remove the cake and preheat the oven.”
“There’s no need.”
“No need?”
She points to the oven. “Whatever that is should probably be thrown away.”
I scowl. “It’s cake batter. I mixed it myself.”
“That much is obvious,” she mutters before raising her voice. “If you need a cake, I’ll bake you one in the morning.”
“I don’t want you to bake me a cake. I want to bake you a cake.”
“But I’m a baker.”
“Who loves chocolate.” She blinks in confusion at me and I sigh. “I’m trying to apologize.”
“With lumpy, uncooked chocolate cake batter?”
“It’s not lumpy. I mixed it for twice as long as the recipe said to ensure there were no lumps.”
She shivers. “Twice as long? We’re definitely throwing the batter away.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “What’s wrong with mixing twice as long?”
“Overmixing the batter causes it to develop too much gluten, which creates a tough, dense cake.”
“This is not working out the way I intended.” I run a hand through my hair and Parker giggles.
“You have flour in your hair.”
“You could have pretended not to notice,” I mutter.
“And miss how adorably grumpy you are when I mention it?”
Adorably grumpy? Is she softening toward me? “Do you forgive me?”
Her nose wrinkles. “You haven’t apologized yet.”
I blow out a breath. “Parker Shaw, I’m sorry I paid for a year of rent for the loft.”
“And you’re sorry because?” She motions for me to continue.
“You don’t need my money, and you can save your damn self?”
She studies me for a long moment. “Good enough.”
I inch closer to her. When she doesn’t back away, I dare to close in on her until I can see the little flecks of gray in her blue eyes.
“I really am sorry, Parker. I shouldn’t have paid the rent, but I hate the idea of your suffering.”
“My apartment isn’t that bad.”
“Do you want me to list all the reasons your apartment should be condemned?”
She grunts. “No.”
I palm her neck. “I know I was an asshole who treated you like a money grubbing gold digger, but I want to resume our arrangement.”
“An affair until you leave the island?”
My stomach clenches. New Year’s Day is less than two weeks away. I can’t imagine saying goodbye to Parker in two weeks. But I don’t know what else I have to offer her. I’ve never managed to have a healthy relationship.
“What about more?” I ask before I can overthink the situation.
“More?” She narrows her eyes at me. “What does more mean?”
“Honestly, I have no clue. I just know I don’t want to say goodbye to you.”
She stares up at me from beneath her lashes. “You don’t?”
I squeeze her neck. “I don’t. You intrigue me, Parker.”
“Because I threw your money in your face?”
“And you’re sweet and funny and have a strange obsession with mermaids and have an otter for a pet and smell of chocolate and taste like coffee and sugar. You have curves I can’t get enough of, and I love the way you let me lead in the bedroom.”
She frowns. “I don’t let you lead in the bedroom.”
I lift a brow.
“Not all the time.”
I nod to concede her point.
“What do you say? Do you want to try ‘more’ with me?”
She nibbles on her bottom lip. “How will this work? I live in Smuggler’s Hideaway. You live on the other side of the country.”
I shrug. “I also own a private jet.”
She rolls her eyes. “You had to bring up your jet.”
“What’s the purpose of being wealthy if I don’t have a jet to mitigate the negative consequences of a long-distance relationship?”
“You make a good point.”
“Does this mean you agree to more?”
She blows out a breath. “I’ll probably regret this but yes, I agree to more, whatever more means.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I murmur before my lips find hers. She sighs and I sweep my tongue into her mouth. Her taste of coffee, sugar, and a hint of sea hits me and I groan. I’m addicted to the flavor. I won’t ever get enough. I don’t want to ever get enough.
I wrap my arms around her and press her against the table. It wobbles and something crashes to the floor. I tear my lips from hers before nibbling along her jaw to her ear.
“Shall we take this upstairs before we’re both covered in flour?”
She laughs and motions to the mixing bowl on the floor. “Are you afraid of a little flour?”
“Make fun of me, will you?” I play growl before lifting her up and throwing her over my shoulder. “My princess needs to be reminded of who’s in charge.”
She giggles as I carry her out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
I can imagine many more days and nights spent in this loft above her kitchen, exploring each other in the bed. Or eating Chinese food and watching a movie. As long as I’m with Parker, I don’t care what we do.