Chapter 11 Violet #2
“Not a problem at all. These things, unfortunately, happen all the time, and we always set aside some time for rush orders. Your wedding is close to Christmas, right?”
Andrew nods. “Is that a problem?”
“Of course not. I’m sure we can accommodate you. After we spoke on the phone, I put some things together for you, if you’re ready to start tasting?”
“We are,” Isabelle says brightly.
The owner brings over a tray laden with cake samples. Everything looks fresh and smells good, and Andrew and Isabelle lean in, ready to get to the tasting.
Before they can, the door opens with a merry chime, and we all look up to see Lennox, Rhett, and Sawyer come walking in.
It’s hard to say who’s more surprised to see them, Andrew or me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as they come over.
“You’ve been gone all day at your bakery, and now you’re here at another one,” Sawyer says with a grin. “We missed you, so we wanted to see you.”
“You don’t mind if we join the tasting do you?” Rhett adds. He folds his arms, looking polite but still imposing. He’s not looking at me, but instead at Andrew and Isabelle, as if daring them to say no and make a scene.
Andrew smiles, but I know him well enough to see the tension in it, the way his jaw is tight from how hard he’s biting back a comment. “That’s fine,” he finally says.
Isabelle looks at him and he shakes his head at her, clearly communicating that it’s not worth arguing.
All three of the older brothers pull up chairs and sit on my side of the table.
“The more the merrier,” the owner says. “It helps to have more input about these things, even if the final decision comes down to the bride and groom.”
Her warm customer service smooths over some of the awkwardness, and she goes back to the back of the bakery, leaving cards to rank things and instructions to just holler if we have any questions.
We start the tasting with Andrew picking up a piece of chocolate cake and looking at how it’s labeled. “German chocolate,” he says. “That sounds good.”
Isabelle reaches to take a bite. “Let me try some.”
“That has coconut in it, Isabelle,” I tell her. “You won’t like it.”
“Oh, ew. Never mind then. Put that one down, Andrew.”
“I still want to try it,” he argues, taking a bite. “It’s good.”
“It’s gross, and I don’t want it at our wedding,” Isabelle fires back. She sounds like the spoiled princess she is, and Andrew doesn’t argue with her, just finishes his bite of it.
We all have some of the lemon cake and the red velvet next, ranking them on our little cards.
“The lemon is good,” Isabelle says, tapping her pencil. “But lemon at a winter wedding? What do you think, Vi?”
I chew my remaining piece, thinking. “It’s not strictly thematic,” I reply. “Not like something more spiced would be, but citrus fruits are popular in the winter, so you could get away with it if you really like it.”
She scribbles something down and we move on.
The next sample is carrot cake, and Sawyer takes a bite and makes an approving noise. “This is good. Delicious frosting.”
“Are you going to hoard it all for yourself?” I ask, teasing him. “Let me try some.”
He holds it out of my reach with a grin. “Nope, this is all mine. Get your own carrot cake, baby.”
I laugh at his teasing, playing along with the bit. I do also really want to try it if he says it’s that good. I try to grab for the piece he has, but he moves it away, standing up to keep it away from me.
I follow him across the bakery, caught up in it, laughing as I go up onto my toes.
“You’re too short,” he says, his eyes sparkling with humor.
“I’ll show you too short.” I start practically climbing him, trying to get at the cake. I feel light with amusement and the teasing, and the feeling of Sawyer’s muscled body against mine.
Behind us, Andrew makes an annoyed noise. “Let it go, Violet,” he says. “You don’t need the extra cake anyway.”
It’s like being slapped in the face, and it takes the wind out of my sails, all good humor and fun gone in an instant. My cheeks flame with embarrassment, and I slide down Sawyer’s body, abandoning the cake and the game.
But Sawyer doesn’t let me go.
Instead, he tugs me closer and turns our bodies so that my back is against the wall.
He leans in and my heart skips a beat before hammering hard against my ribs from his proximity.
“Nothing can compare to the stuff you make,” he murmurs. “But you really should try this.”
He holds it up, and I hesitate for a while. But the look on his face does something to me. He looks earnest and heated in a way that turns my bones to jelly. So I let him feed the cake to me.
And it’s really good. The spices warm and clear, the cake moist and light. The frosting is that good cream cheese kind that melts on my tongue, and Sawyer watches intently as I savor it, something burning in his eyes.
When I finish, he reaches up and brushes a small bit of frosting from the corner of my mouth, holding my gaze before sucking it off his thumb.
It’s just a small moment, his tongue flickering over his own thumb before he sucks it into his mouth, but it feels so much more intense than that. My face flushes, and something tightens low down in me. My legs wobble, like my knees could give out right here and now, and heat burns low in my belly.
Every part of me is attuned to him, like I’m quivering on the edge of something, just from this.
We don’t break eye contact, and we could have been standing there for a minute or an hour for all I know. It takes Andrew clearing his throat—clearly annoyed—to get me back to Earth.
“Are you finished? Can we get back to what we came here to do?” he asks. “Some of us are on a deadline for our wedding.”
Sawyer acts completely nonchalant as he takes my hand and leads me back over to the others, as if he didn’t almost make me come by feeding me a damned cupcake.
“Sorry, little brother,” he says, offering Andrew an easy smile. “Got a little carried away. You know how it is.”
Andrew looks like he very much does not know how it is, but he doesn’t want to address it, obviously. We go back to the tasting, Isabelle and Andrew giving their thoughts to each other and me answering their questions about flavorings and ingredients and whatever else.
The heat is still there, simmering in my belly, but as time passes, it starts to turn from heat into something else.
It starts to ache, and I make a face, trying to ignore it and focus.
I shift a little in my seat as the tasting continues, trying to find some position that eases the building ache, but it’s not working.
“The carrot cake was the best, in my opinion,” Isabelle says at one point. “And I think that would work with all the other stuff we’re having. But the gingerbread is more Christmassy. What do you think, Violet?”
I open my mouth to tell her that it’s her wedding and her decision, but before I can speak, the ache suddenly explodes into a sharp, shooting pain that cuts through my lower belly.
Whatever I was about to say comes out as a groan instead. I hiss out a breath and double over, clutching at my stomach as another stab of pain shoots through me.
Lennox is in front of me almost immediately, his hands running over me. “Shit. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, pressing my lips together. Fuck, not now.
Andrew heaves a sigh, rolling his eyes. “Are you serious right now? We asked you to come here to be helpful, Violet. Not to be dramatic.”
“She’s hurt,” Lennox snaps at his brother. “Give it a rest.”
I grit my teeth past the pain, trying to wave Lennox off. “No, I’m—I’m fine. It’s just bad cramps. I… thought I had a few more days. I’ll be okay.”
My period doesn’t usually come this early.
I have been stressed lately, with the wedding and all of the holiday stuff at the bakery, so maybe it’s got my hormones out of whack.
But if I’d known it was going to start today, I would’ve prepared a lot better.
Honestly, I probably would’ve told Isabelle and Andrew that I couldn’t come to the tasting.
I’m not usually fit for human company during the first bit of my period.
Lennox shakes his head, not convinced. “No, you won’t be okay. You can barely sit up. I’m taking you home.”
He gets to his feet and scoops me up out of the chair and into his arms. My eyes go wide, and I shake my head immediately even as I cling to him for stability.
“You can’t carry me,” I manage to gasp out. “I’m too—”
“You’d damn well better not be about to say you’re too heavy.” He tilts his head to look down at me, cocking one eyebrow. “I could lift two of you, Heartbreaker. Trust me, I’ve got you.”
With that, he starts to carry me to the door.
He must not have been lying, because I don’t feel any strain in his arms, and he walks as if he’s carrying nothing.
Rhett and Sawyer are right behind us, and all four of us leave the bakery, leaving Andrew and Isabelle sitting at the table staring after us.