slide.”
I gasp. “You knew!”
“Of course I knew. I’ve been getting worked by that group since I was in diapers. They knew you couldn’t say no. They found an in and you fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”
Son of a bitch. I freaking knew it! Then again, I never would’ve been able to say no even though she was faking. Presley used to joke about their meddling, but I thought she was being dramatic.
They showed me.
We enter the bakery, and I’m taken back in time. The appliances are all older, well used, and loved. It’s beyond clean, but not stark. The entire bakery is filled with deep reds, navy blues, and worn whites. It’s Americana décor at its finest. All the pieces are eclectic, but purposeful. There’s linens on the five tables in the corner. The glass case in front is filled with different cakes and bakery items. The wall is chalkboard with all the flavors and their prices.
“Well.” I turn to Wyatt. “I’m going to be here a while, so if you want, I can call you when I’m done?”
Making a thousand cupcakes is going to take me all night.
“I’m not leavin’. I’m your assistant,” he announces.
“No.”
“Yup.”
“I don’t have time to show you what to do, Wyatt,” I try to explain. “I need to work quickly.”
He chuckles. “Then you better hop to it, Big City.”
I start to familiarize myself with the bakery. Not that I really know my way around For Cup’s Cake either, but this is crazy. With Wyatt’s help, I find all the ingredients and start to arrange them.
God I hope I don’t screw this up.
“Okay.” I sigh and then consider the most efficient way to do this. This shop has two side-by-side convection ovens. They’ll definitely be able to accommodate large batches. “I can do this.”
“I never had a doubt,” Wyatt encourages. “What do you need me to do?”
He stands at the metal table, waiting for instructions. I dish out some things he can do to help. They are small, tedious tasks, but I really suck at measuring, so I hope to God he’s better at it than I am.
I grew up learning how to cook with a little of this and a smidge of that. When Presley introduced me to baking in college, what I made was not all edible.
In fact, most was awful.
After Presley taught me that baking wasn’t just a little of this and throw some of that in, I got better . . . or maybe I got used to tasting things that weren’t edible.
Wyatt and I work together, laughing as we assemble things. He makes the batter, and I handle the frosting. Before too long, we’re sliding trays in and out like a well-oiled machine. We may actually pull this off.
We’re on the last batch when Wyatt breaks my concentration away from decorating a row of cupcakes. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be this messy.”
I look around at the kitchen we trashed. “Definitely not! My baker would kill me if she saw this.”
I turn around to grab the next batch I need to frost, but Wyatt is suddenly behind me. “Shit!” I yell as I almost drop the tray.
He laughs. “That was close.”
Wyatt steps into me, and I’m between his hard body and the cold metal table. “It is close.”
“Close isn’t always bad.” His eyes soften.
No. It definitely isn’t.
He takes the tray from my hands and slides it on the table, grabbing one of the frosted cupcakes. I watch the wicked gleam in his eyes as he lifts it between us. “Try it.” He puts it to my lips.
I’m not going to lie, it smells amazing in here, and I’ve wanted to taste them. I don’t hesitate before I lean forward a bit and lick the icing. My eyes close, and I can’t help but to hum my approval.
Wyatt’s hand tightens against my back. “Don’t make those noises, baby.”
My gaze connects with his heated eyes. When he looks at me like that, I want to forget all the rules. He’s insanely sexy. He’s looking at me like he wants to be the cupcake, and I sure as hell want him to lick me.
“Why not?” I tilt my head and
I gasp. “You knew!”
“Of course I knew. I’ve been getting worked by that group since I was in diapers. They knew you couldn’t say no. They found an in and you fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”
Son of a bitch. I freaking knew it! Then again, I never would’ve been able to say no even though she was faking. Presley used to joke about their meddling, but I thought she was being dramatic.
They showed me.
We enter the bakery, and I’m taken back in time. The appliances are all older, well used, and loved. It’s beyond clean, but not stark. The entire bakery is filled with deep reds, navy blues, and worn whites. It’s Americana décor at its finest. All the pieces are eclectic, but purposeful. There’s linens on the five tables in the corner. The glass case in front is filled with different cakes and bakery items. The wall is chalkboard with all the flavors and their prices.
“Well.” I turn to Wyatt. “I’m going to be here a while, so if you want, I can call you when I’m done?”
Making a thousand cupcakes is going to take me all night.
“I’m not leavin’. I’m your assistant,” he announces.
“No.”
“Yup.”
“I don’t have time to show you what to do, Wyatt,” I try to explain. “I need to work quickly.”
He chuckles. “Then you better hop to it, Big City.”
I start to familiarize myself with the bakery. Not that I really know my way around For Cup’s Cake either, but this is crazy. With Wyatt’s help, I find all the ingredients and start to arrange them.
God I hope I don’t screw this up.
“Okay.” I sigh and then consider the most efficient way to do this. This shop has two side-by-side convection ovens. They’ll definitely be able to accommodate large batches. “I can do this.”
“I never had a doubt,” Wyatt encourages. “What do you need me to do?”
He stands at the metal table, waiting for instructions. I dish out some things he can do to help. They are small, tedious tasks, but I really suck at measuring, so I hope to God he’s better at it than I am.
I grew up learning how to cook with a little of this and a smidge of that. When Presley introduced me to baking in college, what I made was not all edible.
In fact, most was awful.
After Presley taught me that baking wasn’t just a little of this and throw some of that in, I got better . . . or maybe I got used to tasting things that weren’t edible.
Wyatt and I work together, laughing as we assemble things. He makes the batter, and I handle the frosting. Before too long, we’re sliding trays in and out like a well-oiled machine. We may actually pull this off.
We’re on the last batch when Wyatt breaks my concentration away from decorating a row of cupcakes. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be this messy.”
I look around at the kitchen we trashed. “Definitely not! My baker would kill me if she saw this.”
I turn around to grab the next batch I need to frost, but Wyatt is suddenly behind me. “Shit!” I yell as I almost drop the tray.
He laughs. “That was close.”
Wyatt steps into me, and I’m between his hard body and the cold metal table. “It is close.”
“Close isn’t always bad.” His eyes soften.
No. It definitely isn’t.
He takes the tray from my hands and slides it on the table, grabbing one of the frosted cupcakes. I watch the wicked gleam in his eyes as he lifts it between us. “Try it.” He puts it to my lips.
I’m not going to lie, it smells amazing in here, and I’ve wanted to taste them. I don’t hesitate before I lean forward a bit and lick the icing. My eyes close, and I can’t help but to hum my approval.
Wyatt’s hand tightens against my back. “Don’t make those noises, baby.”
My gaze connects with his heated eyes. When he looks at me like that, I want to forget all the rules. He’s insanely sexy. He’s looking at me like he wants to be the cupcake, and I sure as hell want him to lick me.
“Why not?” I tilt my head and
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