CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Hendrix
“S top ringing,” I call out to the phone as it rings for the third time in the past hour.
Then I laugh.
When have I ever thought I’d complain about being too busy? It’s insane. It’s overwhelming. It’s awesome .
I barely manage to balance the piping bag in one hand while reaching for the phone with the other.
“Cookie Cutter,” I answer breathlessly, adjusting the phone between my shoulder and ear.
“I’d like to place an order for divorce cookies,” the woman on the other end says cheerfully.
I pause, frowning. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Divorce cookies. The special from Gizmo’s contest?”
My stomach drops. “Um... I think—” You have the wrong bakery .
Oh. Shit.
He didn’t.
“No, no,” she insists. “It’s all over social media. Order breakup or divorce cookies—the newest idea from Cookie Cutter—and you’re automatically entered to win a meet-and-greet with Gizmo from BENT!”
I nearly drop the phone and it’s not because of her high-pitched squeal that follows.
There’s no way he did that.
None.
But her squeal and the sudden beep alerting me of another caller on my other line is saying there is. And he did.
“Oh, uh—” I scramble to open Instagram on my tablet, my heart hammering as I search for Jase’s page.
And then I find it.
A video of Jase grinning, oozing that Gizmo charm, as he explains about the “newest bakery sensation” while showcasing one of my perfectly decorated cookies.
“What in the actual hell?” I mutter.
The customer is still on the line. “So, can I place my order? Does that automatically enter me into the contest?”
I clear my throat, trying to maintain a professional facade despite the fact that my blood pressure just went through the roof. Divorce cookies ? What in the hell do I even do for those? A broken ball and chain? A cracked wedding cake? Some kitschy slogans?
Jase, I’m going to kill you.
Right after I kiss you.
“Of course. How many would you like?”
After jotting down the details, my eyes bug out of my head when I see my online ordering system ticker begin to escalate one by one and then by tens at a time.
I immediately call Jase. He picks up on the second ring. “Hey. You never call me during the day. Well, you never call me. Only text. Am I in trouble or something?” he asks and chuckles.
Oh, he knows exactly what’s going on.
“Your post? Your contest? What the actual fuckity fuck?” I shriek.
“I figured you’re helping my career out, so why can’t I help yours a little? A quid pro quo. I tried to think of the best way to promote your niche bakery, and then I figured why not use the two best things you have at your disposal? Your cookies and me.” When I’m silent, when I sit there dumbfounded and overwhelmed, he continues, “ You’re welcome .”
“I don’t even know what to say.” I’m both exasperated and invigorated. Like... the new orders are populating on my screen to numbers I’ve never seen right before my very eyes. “Don’t you think you should’ve asked if I can handle it?”
“Probably, but this will force you to hire and get help. Don’t worry, I have Nathaniel working on that as we speak.”
“He’s a lawyer, not a baker.”
“He’s smart. Resourceful. Writes a mean NDA as you know that will keep everything confidential. I promise he’ll come through on this and most likely by the end of the day.”
“Jase...” I bark out a disbelieving laugh as my head spins.
“Besides, it’s not like people divorce a lot—well, this is Hollywood so don’t quote me on that—but I figured these are one-time customers that you’ll reel into being full-time ones once they taste how fucking good your cookies are. I am the best judge of just how good they taste, no?” His chuckle is suggestive and has me thinking back to last night where that masterful tongue of his spent plenty of time between my thighs. I shiver.
“Leave it to you to crack a joke when you just rocked my world.”
“Last night and this morning.” Another innuendo that has me shifting my feet. “I have faith in you.”
I groan, rubbing my temples. “I can’t believe... you’re—”
“The best husband ever. I know. I might win awards for it, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. We’re in the early days yet.”
I want to be mad. I should be mad. But another order dings on the bakery’s online system, then another, and another.
This is going to be the death of me.
I sigh. “I swear, you’re impossible.”
“And yet, you keep me around,” he teases.
I have faith in you.
Not only is my husband exceedingly skilled at giving me amazing orgasms, but... he has faith in me. I wonder if he has any idea how much those words mean to me? I shake my head, unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips as another order rolls in.
“Looks like I’ll have to find a way to thank you later then,” I say, smiling when I hear his groan.
“You actually think I’m going to say no to that? I’ll be waiting...”