Chapter 7 #3
“Sorry about that,” Tank says. “I’m slacking in my duties. Chevy is a deputy sheriff in these parts. He’ll answer to Deputy or even Sheriff. You could also use his given name, which is Chevrolet.”
Chevy chuckles as I shake his hand. “Or just Chevy.”
“Rose Roberts,” I tell him. “I own the bakery across the street. Nice to meet you.”
“I’ve been the lucky recipient of your baked goods,” Chevy says. “And I approve.”
I haven’t seen him come in before, and he must see the question on my face because he says, “Val is my fiancée. And my dessert supplier. You do good work.”
He pats his stomach, which has the healthy look of a man who knows his way around a pastry case but could still chase you down if you tried to outrun the law.
It takes me a moment to mentally place Val, but then I remember her.
She’s in her twenties and has the most gorgeous long brown hair I’ve ever seen.
She tends to wear paint-splattered professional coveralls and usually purchases a whole box of things every time she comes in.
I’d been wondering at the petite woman’s magic metabolism, but now, this makes sense.
She may still have the ability to scarf down sugar and stay tiny, but she isn’t scarfing it down alone.
“Thank you,” I say. “And thank Val for me.”
“Will do.”
“Are these hummingbird cupcakes?” Tank asks, the words rushing out of him like he’s been holding in the question since I arrived.
“They are,” I say, loving the way his whole face lights up.
Had I known that this particular kind of cake had that kind of effect on Tank, I’d have been adding them to the daily rotation.
I wonder why he never asked before. He reaches for one, and I shake my head.
“Those are actually for Kalli’s coffee shop. ”
His face falls, looking scolded as he steps away, still eyeing the cupcakes, now with a puppy-dog look of longing. “Right—of course.”
“But this is for you.” I pick up the plate with an eight-inch, two-layer hummingbird cake. It was the first thing I made yesterday after all the supplies arrived. I feel overexposed and a little off-kilter as I hand it to Tank. My hands feel a little shaky, and I hope he doesn’t notice.
Is this too much? It’s the trade-off he asked for. And yet, I feel like somehow this cake might as well have Rose Has a Crush On You! written in cursive icing across the top. It’s a lot of effort for a man who hasn’t talked to me in two straight days. Maybe I should have just given him a cupcake.
But then the delighted look returns to Tank’s face as his gaze moves from the cake to me. “You made me a whole cake?”
I shrug, stepping back with a smile. “You gave me your whole loft.”
“You didn’t need to go to all this trouble for me,” he says, and I wonder if anyone does the kinds of nice things for him that he seems to do for others. It seems like a revelation.
“It’s just a cake. And really, you paid for it.”
Though not everything, especially for hummingbird cake, which requires a few unique ingredients like banana and crushed pineapple that I don’t use in anything else I make. But Tank’s thoughtful deliveries covered just about but not quite all of what I needed for my go-to recipes. So, it counts.
Chevy clears his throat. “Want to grab a piece to go? We’ve still got some things to take care of.”
“Right. Yes. Can I just leave this here for now?” Tank asks.
“Are you asking my permission again for something involving your loft and now your cake?”
Tank smiles. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Of course it’s a yes. But here—take a cupcake. It will be easier to grab and go. You too,” I tell Chevy, who doesn’t need to be told twice and has taken a cupcake and a bite before Tank has set down the cake plate.
“Mm,” Chevy says. “Is this the cake James and Winnie served at their wedding?”
“Yup,” Tank says. I find myself watching his hands as he removes the cupcake liner. He does so carefully, almost reverently, and in such a way that a flush creeps up my neck. When he takes a bite and closes his eyes with a soft groan, the heat moves from my neck right up to my cheeks.
Hurriedly, I start packing up the remaining items to take back across the street.
“Rose, you have a gift,” Tank says, and I keep my face averted to hide my smile.
“There are plenty of recipes on the internet that are just as good,” I say.
I almost startle when he reaches out to touch my arm. “Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t refuse a true compliment.”
Glancing up, I meet his earnest blue eyes, and now the heat has engulfed my whole body. “Okay,” I say. “Then, thank you for saying so. It makes me happy to make other people happy.”
Some people more than others, I think, watching the lines crease around his eyes as he smiles.
“We really should go,” Chevy says, heading toward the door, his cupcake already gone. “Rose, it was good to meet you and thanks again. Tank, you can come back for more cake later.”
They’re gone before I can ask where they’re going or the question I really want to know, which is for Tank: When will I see you again?
But now, I can at least be sure he’ll want to come back for cake. I’ll try not to hope that he’ll want to come back for me too.