Chapter 11
LEIGH
Thursday came too quickly and not quickly enough.
I changed my outfit three times before Dex picked me up, which was ridiculous because this wasn’t a date or anything.
Just a cake tasting for my brother’s wedding.
The brother I still felt strange calling my brother, and his best friend who I had no idea what I wanted to call or even what everyone else would think by the time I came to that decision.
Except it wasn’t just that.
It was Dex and me in another small space, forced proximity, the ridiculous truce already having morphed into something I didn’t have a name for. It was us spending time together as… what?
When his truck pulled up at exactly two o’clock, I was waiting on the porch with my camera and a determination to keep this friendly, but appropriate levels of friendliness. And hopefully somewhere along the way today I’d figure out what that meant as well.
That determination lasted about thirty seconds.
“Hey,” he said when I climbed in.
“Hey.”
And there it was. That electricity, that awareness, that pull that made pretending impossible.
We drove in silence for the first few blocks. I kept my camera in my lap, fiddling with the lens cap. He kept his eyes on the road, jaw tight, hands gripping the steering wheel like it might try to escape.
“So,” I said finally. “Cake.”
“Cake,” he agreed.
“Should be simple enough.”
“Yep. Taste some cake. Make sure it tastes like good cake. Done.”
“Easy.”
“Right.”
Another pause.
“This is so weird,” I muttered.
“Yeah.” He glanced at me briefly, and I caught the hint of a smile. “We’re terrible at this.”
“At what? Pretending we’re not attracted to each other?”
The words were out before I could stop them. I froze, mortified. I did not just go there!
But Dex laughed. A real laugh, rough and surprised. “Apparently, yeah. We’re terrible at that.”
Something in my chest loosened. “Okay, so maybe we stop pretending.”
“Stop pretending?”
“That we’re not attracted to each other. Acknowledge it, accept it, and then... I don’t know. Move on?” Even as I said it, I knew how impossible that sounded.
He pulled into a parking spot downtown and killed the engine. For a moment, we just sat there. Both of us with so much to say and not knowing how to just… say it.
“Acknowledging it doesn’t make it go away,” he said quietly.
“I know.”
“And we can’t…”
“I know that too,” I added quickly.
But the thing was, the more we said it, the less I remembered why exactly that was.
He turned to look at me fully. “So what do we do?”
I met his eyes. Sinking into the blue deeps for a moment. Just letting myself feel all the emotions neither of us knew what to do with, and then I swallowed the lump that was rising in my throat and glanced away as I tried to pull myself together.
“I guess we taste some cake and try not to combust from sexual tension?”
That startled another laugh out of him. “That’s the plan?”
“Unless you have a better one.”
“I really don’t.”
We got out of the truck and walked toward the bakery. The afternoon sun was warm, and downtown Willowbrook was busy with the usual Thursday crowd. People waved at Dex as we passed. Everyone knew him here, had known him his whole life.
I wondered what they thought, seeing us together.
The bakery was exactly the kind of place you’d expect in a small town.
Big open windows displaying all the treats inside.
Little cafe tables with seating where you could sit and enjoy the sweet, sugary goodness of everything inside.
A bell chimed cheerfully when we walked in, the smell of fresh cookies hit me and my mouth immediately began to water.
“You must be here for the Farrington tasting!” The baker emerged from the back, wiping her hands on her flour-dusted apron. She was in her fifties with kind eyes and a warm smile. “You two are right on time!”
“Thanks for fitting us in, Marie” Dex said.
“Oh, anything for Trace and Delaney. Those two deserve all the happiness.” She gestured for us to follow her. “I’ve got everything set up in the back room. More private that way. You can really focus on the flavors, and Delaney mentioned that you wanted to get a couple of photographs as well.”
She led us through the shop to a small room with a table set for two. Not a group tasting, not a crowd. Just two place settings, two water glasses, and six different cake samples arranged on delicate white plates.
My heart sank and soared at the same time.
“I’ll give you two some privacy,” Marie said with a wink that suggested she thought we were more than just..
. whatever we were. “Take your time, try everything. There’s water to cleanse your palate between samples.
Call me when you’re ready to decide, or if you have any questions.
These two are the ones that Trace and Delaney couldn’t decide between and the rest are just because who wants to only try two different types of cake, am I right? ”
She laughed softly as she backed away from us, a friendly smile on her face as her eyes darted between the two of us. Then the door closed softly behind her.
Silence.
Dex and I looked at the table. Then at each other. Then away.
“So,” I said, pulling out my camera to give my hands something to do. “We should probably...”
“Try the cake. Right.” He moved to one of the chairs, looking as uncomfortable as I felt.
I sat across from him, which felt both too far and too close. The table was small, intimate. Our knees didn’t touch, but I was hyperaware of how easily they could.
“Okay.” I positioned my camera. “Mind if I get some shots? Delaney mentioned wanting photos of all the details.”
“Sure. Whatever you need.”
I photographed the display first: the neat rows of samples, the handwritten labels, the way afternoon light filtered through the lace curtains. Professional. Safe. Something to focus on that wasn’t the way Dex looked in that light.
Then we started tasting.
The first sample was vanilla with raspberry filling. I took a small bite, let the flavors settle on my tongue. Sweet but not too sweet, the tartness of the raspberry cutting through the richness of the buttercream.
“Good,” I said, making a note.
Dex tried his own bite and nodded. “Yeah. Good.”
The second was chocolate with salted caramel. Decadent, rich, the kind of cake that made you close your eyes and savor it.
I did exactly that.
When I opened my eyes, Dex was watching me.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just… you really commit to the experience.”
Heat crept up my neck. “It’s good cake!” I protested trying to remember if I’d made some type of food orgasm sound and getting ready to die from mortification.
“It is.” But he was still looking at me in a way that made my skin tingle.
We moved to the third sample, lemon with elderflower. Dex took one bite and his face scrunched up.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
“Too tart?” I asked, grinning.
“It’s like someone made a cake out of furniture polish and punishment.”
“Furniture polish?” I was laughing harder now. “You can’t say that to Delaney.”
“I’m saying it to you. You’re the one who has to help me make this decision. This is one of the extras, right? They can’t have this on the short list.” He pushed the plate away with exaggerated disgust. “Definitely not that one.”
I couldn’t help it I laughed. It wasn’t one of Trace and Delaney’s choices but there was a tiny part of me wanting to plot how to get a slice of this onto Dex’s plate just to see what happened.
“No, it’s one of the extras.” I was still smiling.
“Though I’ve never tasted furniture polish, so I’ll have to take your word on that one. ”
“Lucky you.”
Something had shifted. We’d both relaxed without meaning to, the tension easing into something warmer. Easier.
We tried the almond—too subtle. The red velvet—almost, but not quite right for Trace and Delaney. The champagne—delicious but maybe too fancy.
“Okay,” I said finally, reviewing my notes. “Trace and Delaney couldn’t decide between the chocolate caramel and the vanilla and raspberry.”
Dex leaned back in his chair, considering.
“The vanilla and raspberry one is really good, but is it too simple? This is Trace and Delaney’s happily ever after.
I know it’s a farm wedding, barn reception, and they keep talking about low key even though I’m not entirely sure what that means.
But this means something, right. This is special.
They almost didn’t get… well, anything.”
“You’re right.” I looked at my notes again. “The chocolate caramel feels more them. Decadent but grounded. Special but not pretentious. But… occasion worthy.”
“Exactly.” He met my eyes. “Chocolate caramel it is.”
“Done.”
We sat there for a moment, and I realized I was disappointed it was over. Which was insane. We’d just tasted cake. It shouldn’t have been this enjoyable. It shouldn’t have felt like a date.
But it had.
Dex caught me photographing him mid-thought, his expression unguarded.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Candids. For the wedding album.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. “You’re part of this too. Part of their story.”
Something flickered across his face. “I’m just the guy who ate cake and gave opinions.”
“You’re family,” I said, and his eyes snapped to mine.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I guess I am.”
The weight of those words hung between us. Family. Which meant I was family too. Which meant we were family, in a roundabout, complicated way.
Which meant this, whatever this was, was even more impossible than before.
I looked away first, uncomfortable with how much I wanted to reach across the table and touch him.
Marie knocked and came back in, breaking the moment. “So? What do we think?”
“Chocolate with salted caramel,” we said in unison.
She clapped her hands together, delighted. “Excellent choice! That one’s my favorite too. Let me get the order form and we’ll get everything finalized.”