9. Valentina
9
VALENTINA
T raffic was light on my way to the bakery to test cake flavors. We had four weeks to go, and I had never felt so much like I was behind the controls of a speeding train whose brakes were gone.
“Did you get the updated list of RSVPs together?” I asked Bianca as I turned onto Greenwich Street.
“Sure did, and I forwarded it to you.” Bianca was breathless and overwhelmed, as always. I’d have to encourage her to take a vacation when this was over.
“Great. I need to work on the seating arrangements over the weekend.” A couple of kids crossed in the middle of the street without looking, making me slam on the brakes and tap my horn to get their attention. They were maybe nine, ten years old.
The age my child would’ve been.A lump formed in my throat as a tsunami of sadness washed over me.
The driver behind me sounded their horn, pulling me out of my despair, but not before I stuck a hand out the window and flipped them off. “I’ll stop by the florist after the cake tasting to make sure they have enough hands on deck when it comes time to start putting things together.” A side project like the one I had given them would take a lot of extra effort on top of the arrangements for the wedding. I was paying for it out of my pocket, my gift to Rose. She would absolutely love it if we managed to pull it off.
“Are you sure you’re going to have time? They’re talking about a big storm coming in this afternoon.”
The sky was pretty ominous. “Are they? Wow, I’m usually on top of things like this.” I usually wasn’t sleep deprived, but three straight nights of fucking like the world was coming to an end wasn’t something I was used to either.
With Evan, no less.
Mixed feelings made my stomach churn, but I brushed the sensation aside. We were adults. I had needs. It just so happened a decade of experience made him an expert at satisfying them. I wouldn’t have known that if it wasn’t for a night of weakness, and now I couldn’t forget. We’d get it out of our systems and move on once the wedding was over.
We had to. Right? It’s not like there was a plausible alternative.
Bianca was blissfully unaware of my rationalization, still fretting. “You don’t want to get caught in it. Maybe it would be better to postpone the florist until tomorrow.”
“I’ll be fine,” I insisted, parking in the lot along the rear of a string of businesses. “It won’t take long at the bakery, and I can always use the storm as an excuse to cut out if things start running over schedule.”
“Just to be safe out there,” she urged. I promised I would, then ended the call and stepped out of the car. The air was suspiciously humid, especially for early May when it didn’t usually feel like this. An upward glance served as a reminder of what was coming—dark clouds rolling fast, and it was definitely windier than it was when I set out for Greenwich earlier.
All the more reason to get the hell in there and get this over with.
It wasn’t the promise of a storm that made my heart race as I stepped into the quaint, cheerful little shop. Like many businesses in this part of town, the historic building was full of charm and stunning architectural details. The owners had leaned into it, creating a vibe I could only describe as old-timey. Like stepping back a century, though I doubted items like cake pops and cronuts existed back then.
I had never spoken to the head baker. Until now, Evan had been in charge of that. I hated giving up even a tiny bit of control, but desperate times called for desperate measures. There were only so many hours in the day, only so many phone calls I could possibly make.
I only knew her name, so the sight of Marissa written across the name tag of the girl who stepped through swinging doors made me extend a hand over the counter. “I’m Valentina Miller, here for a cake tasting for the Goldsmith-Black wedding next month.”
She rubbed a hand across the front of her apron, leaving a smudge of flour before shaking. “Nice to meet you. Everything’s all set up in back. Follow me.”
“Is Mr. Anderson here yet?” I couldn’t be annoyed at him for wanting to be part of the cake tasting the way I would’ve been before he somehow managed to break down my defenses at my apartment. If anything, there was a tiny thrill in pretending there was nothing going on between us. I’d forgotten how much fun it could be, having a secret like this.
We were both adults. This had nothing to do with the past, and there was certainly no future in it. It was for now. Fun for now .
“He’s waiting for us. Follow me.” She flipped up a hinged portion of the front counter, and I followed her into the kitchen.
My heart skipped a beat when I found him sitting at a stainless steel prep table at the far end of the busy kitchen with his shirtsleeves rolled up like he was ready to dig in. In front of him was a row of plates, each holding a different cake flavor, but I was more interested in the man who looked much more delicious than cake ever could.
“Good thing you got here when you did,” he warned with a grin as we approached. “I’m not sure I could be a good boy much longer.”
The comment was directed my way. At least, it seemed like it was. For some reason, though, Marissa giggled. “Nobody can be a good boy all the time,” she reasoned.
Oh. So it was like that. I rolled my shoulders back, staring at the blonde ponytail that swung back and forth in front of me as we approached the stool where Evan sat.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” I offered, pulling out my tablet to take notes on the different flavors with one eye on the flirtatious little baker. She stood across from where I sat next to Evan, leaning in with her elbows on the table and giving him the sort of smile that hinted at a past. Did they have a past? What the hell do I care anyway?
No, Evan didn’t do that. It wasn’t totally outside the realm of possibility that he would sleep with a vendor he frequently did business with, but he didn’t like complications. Fuck buddies presented complications. Weren’t we a perfect example of that? But I was supposed to be special.
We were… once upon a time.
Was I actually getting jealous over this girl?
“Here we are. The five flavors the bride narrowed down.” Marissa gestured at each as she described them. “ Champagne-infused sponge with a strawberry frosting. Chocolate sponge with a black cherry filling and mocha frosting. Vanilla bean with raspberry filling and cream cheese frosting with a touch of raspberry purée whipped in. A traditional red velvet with plain cream cheese frosting. Finally, a lemon-infused sponge with blueberry filling and a lemon frosting.”
“I think I gained five pounds just listening to all of that,” I confessed. Evan chuckled, but Marissa didn’t seem to find it funny. She only held out a pair of forks, one for each of us.
Evan turned my way, his brows lifted. He didn’t seem to notice the difference between the way she treated him and her standoffish attitude toward me. “Where do you want to start?” he asked with a playful grin that might have melted my panties under different circumstances.
Whenever I forgot why I kept stabbing myself in the back by sleeping with the man who broke my heart, he had to go and do something like that to remind me. The handsome prick.
Where did I want to start? With the faint handprint on his gray jacket. The sort of thing that would get left behind if someone had flour on their hand and touched somebody’s chest. I brushed it off with nothing more than a pointed look, but I was definitely going to bring it up later. “Let’s start at the beginning. Champagne and strawberry.”
“It’s one of my favorites,” Marissa told us. Like anybody asked. Obviously, she was interested in him, staring as he sank his fork into the slice. Hell, she reminded me of the way he watched me eat back at the country club.
“How do you get it so light?” he asked, chewing slowly. I took a bite for the sake of playing along. It was nice, even if it kind of tasted like sawdust. That had to be a me problem since he was loving it .
“A trick of the trade. I could tell you, but I would have to kill you,” she teased. They shared a grin, and I cleared my throat before pushing the plate aside.
“One down,” I said, making a note in my app. “That was very nice. Champagne and strawberry, great combination.” Not exactly revolutionary.
We tried the chocolate cake next, which had a nice, rich flavor. “I love the cherry with the chocolate,” I told Evan, who nodded in agreement before taking a second bite.
“The cherries are a little tart, but it goes well with the sugary frosting,” he agreed.
Marissa smiled wide like she’d invented the combination. “A little tartness brings out the sweetness,” she explained, dragging her finger through a bit of frosting left on the plate and popping it into her mouth. Oh, boy. She wasn’t even trying to hide how blatantly she flirted with him. Sure, he had a great dick and did things with his hands and tongue that were downright magical but come on. She was supposed to be a professional.
Then again, so was I. So was Evan. That didn’t stop us from fucking like rabbits whenever we were in the same room for too long.
The lights flickered, making us all look up in unison at the fluorescents overhead. “Looks like that storm is coming in.” Marissa went to the back door and opened it, letting in the roar of increasing winds.
It had gotten darker since I came in. “Maybe we should hurry this up,” I suggested in a soft voice, and Evan grunted his agreement. Maybe Mother Nature was on my side. The less time I spent with this girl drooling over him, the safer it would be. Otherwise, she might end up with a fistful of hair yanked from her scalp. He wasn’t mine. He hadn’t been for a long time, but that didn’t stop me from seething like a jealous girlfriend.
“I’ll have to postpone my trip to the florist,” I announced, setting my fork down to send Bianca a text letting her know. She’d be relieved.
“It might be a little late to consider driving home now,” he suggested as Marissa joined us again. “I walked over from the club, and I have the house out here. I’d have asked you for a ride home anyway,” he joked, winking.
Marissa slid the next cake in front of us. “Vanilla bean.” So she didn’t like us talking about going back to his place after this. I bit my lip to hide a smile while cutting a piece away. It was good, but not great. My favorite part about it was the bit of frosting left on Evan’s chin, which I reached out to brush away.
Not because of the frosting, but because of Miss Handsy, who liked to leave handprints on people who didn’t belong to her. Not that he belonged to me.
By the time we tasted the last—and maybe best—cake, the wind gusted hard enough for us to hear it inside the kitchen. “This is phenomenal,” Evan assured Marissa as we both stood, collecting ourselves. “But we’d better get going. I hope the roads are still clear.”
Marissa’s face fell. “Oh, okay. Let me know what you decide.” I caught her scowling at me before she could wipe the look off her face. Sorry, babe, but he’s leaving with me. We said our goodbyes and offered our thanks before ducking out the back door. A few stray raindrops hit the top of my head, but so far, the biggest problem was the roaring wind and thunder rumbling ominously in the distance.
“I’ll drop you off at home or take you back to the club. Whatever you want.” I unlocked the doors and was happy to escape inside the car, where there was nothing blowing in my face.
“I think it’s better if we go home,” he decided in a serious voice once he joined me in the passenger seat.
I snorted. “I have work to do. A lot of it. Including taking the RSVPs and arranging the seating based off of who’s responded so far. We’re talking about a few hundred people.”
“No problem. I’ll help you with it. That will make it easier.”
Damn him. I hated it when he made sense. Who were we kidding, though? We wouldn’t get any work done. I couldn’t stop staring at his mouth and his hands, remembering what they did to me. “I’d be more productive at home, I think. No offense.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s storming like crazy. You could end up in trouble on the road.” He hadn’t finished the sentence before big, fat raindrops started to fall. It wasn’t the sort of thing where the rain started off slowly and gradually increased. We went from no rain to a downpour in roughly three seconds flat. Soon, the sound filled the inside of the car. It was so loud Evan had to raise his voice. “No way you’re driving back to the city in this.”
“It’s not going to be this way forever,” I pointed out.
The smartass had to go and pull out his phone. Opening a weather app, he pulled up the current radar. We were smack dab in the middle of an enormous storm cell, completely covered, and the hourly outlook called for heavy rain and high winds until late evening.
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
“I’m five minutes away from here,” he reminded me. “ And I can help you with those seating arrangements if you want.”
“Don’t act like you want me to come over just to work on the wedding,” I warned. It was impossible to keep a straight face when he wore that charming, sexy little grin.
How did he do it? And how the hell did I keep falling for it?
“Fine. Tell me how to get there.” I pulled out of the spot and rolled slowly through the lot. Thankfully, there weren’t a lot of cars on the street, but I knew that would have changed if I tried to leave town. It was smarter and safer to stay local until the storm passed.
However, I had a hard time believing anything related to an evening alone with Evan could be described as safe.