a chance to look at the space?” Elliot was asking her, as Stefan sat down.
Jen froze, her eyes darting back to Stefan who was once again on his cell phone. Elliot had found a coffee shop on Royal that was moving out. He thought it was the perfect spot for the bakery and had emailed Jen all the info a few weeks ago. She had begged him not to tell Stefan. “Not yet,” she said now, “Waiting for Jared to get back.”
“Well, let me know when I can order your secret weapon cakes. I want to put it on the menu. I’ll send out the fish, it’s amazing,” he said, and disappeared into the kitchen.
“Secret weapon cake?” Stefan asked, setting his phone down on the table.
“It’s a joke,” she said.
His already stormy expression darkened. “You and Elliot have a private joke?”
“No, it’s not a private joke. It’s my triple chocolate layer cake. He wants me to make them for the restaurant. He calls it my secret weapon.”
Stefan looked blank. “Your triple what?”
She leaned across the table. “You may find this hard to believe, but a huge percentage of the human race actually likes sugar, Stefan. And they love chocolate. And just about anyone who has tried my chocolate cake says it’s the best they’ve ever had.” She sat back and crossed her arms. She had complete confidence in her baking. So what if Stefan was oblivious and avoided sugar like the plague? Even the instructors in Paris had been impressed with the crazy things Jen could do with sugar.
“So, why haven’t you made it for me?” he asked.
She shook her head. She had made it for him. She’d invented it for him. He just hadn’t eaten it. He’d taken it back to the frat house just like he had all her other experimental baking attempts. At least his fraternity had appreciated it. At thirteen, Jen had thought it was the coolest thing in the world when his frat brothers started emailing her requests. She’d learned to make bread pudding and red velvet cake for Rogan. Carrot cake for Jackson Napier. Snickerdoodles for Matt Hansen. Brownies and cowboy cookies for Elliot. She’d come up with a bittersweet chocolate cake for Stefan, not that he’d ever tried it. But after Elliot had a slice a few years ago, he’d told her she needed to go to pastry school and had gotten her the information on the school she and Jared had attended.
“You do not eat cake,” she reminded him. “It’s just one more reason why we shouldn’t get married.”
He laughed out loud at that. “Because I don’t like white flour? What has that got to do with anything?”
“I’m a pastry chef,” she said, as if it were obvious.
“I ate your pancakes.”
She opened her mouth to make a comeback but just had nothing.
Stefan grinned when she closed her mouth again. “And I had seconds.”
She sat back in her chair and changed the subject. “You were planning on qualifying for the Iron Man this fall weren’t you?”
He shrugged. “Just wanted to shave a few minutes off my time. No big deal.” He dismissed it but she knew he was downplaying it. He’d never been happy with his time when he raced in 2004. He’d qualified for the next year but when Katrina blew up the Gulf Coast he had stayed home to help with the clean up. He hadn’t had a chance since then to go back to Hawaii, but this was his last year in this age class.
“There’s always next year,” she said.
He shook his head. “No, it’s done.” He’d made up his mind, and that hurt. She knew how much he loved it. She couldn’t imagine him actually giving it up. That was almost as bad as the suits she suspected she would be seeing a lot more of.
Their salads arrived. The spring mix topped with artichokes and figs looked gorgeous on the plate, but Jen doubted she was going to get any of it past her throat.
“So what space are you supposed to be looking at?” he asked, almost succeeding in sounding casual.
The world dropped out from under her and her fork clattered against her
Jen froze, her eyes darting back to Stefan who was once again on his cell phone. Elliot had found a coffee shop on Royal that was moving out. He thought it was the perfect spot for the bakery and had emailed Jen all the info a few weeks ago. She had begged him not to tell Stefan. “Not yet,” she said now, “Waiting for Jared to get back.”
“Well, let me know when I can order your secret weapon cakes. I want to put it on the menu. I’ll send out the fish, it’s amazing,” he said, and disappeared into the kitchen.
“Secret weapon cake?” Stefan asked, setting his phone down on the table.
“It’s a joke,” she said.
His already stormy expression darkened. “You and Elliot have a private joke?”
“No, it’s not a private joke. It’s my triple chocolate layer cake. He wants me to make them for the restaurant. He calls it my secret weapon.”
Stefan looked blank. “Your triple what?”
She leaned across the table. “You may find this hard to believe, but a huge percentage of the human race actually likes sugar, Stefan. And they love chocolate. And just about anyone who has tried my chocolate cake says it’s the best they’ve ever had.” She sat back and crossed her arms. She had complete confidence in her baking. So what if Stefan was oblivious and avoided sugar like the plague? Even the instructors in Paris had been impressed with the crazy things Jen could do with sugar.
“So, why haven’t you made it for me?” he asked.
She shook her head. She had made it for him. She’d invented it for him. He just hadn’t eaten it. He’d taken it back to the frat house just like he had all her other experimental baking attempts. At least his fraternity had appreciated it. At thirteen, Jen had thought it was the coolest thing in the world when his frat brothers started emailing her requests. She’d learned to make bread pudding and red velvet cake for Rogan. Carrot cake for Jackson Napier. Snickerdoodles for Matt Hansen. Brownies and cowboy cookies for Elliot. She’d come up with a bittersweet chocolate cake for Stefan, not that he’d ever tried it. But after Elliot had a slice a few years ago, he’d told her she needed to go to pastry school and had gotten her the information on the school she and Jared had attended.
“You do not eat cake,” she reminded him. “It’s just one more reason why we shouldn’t get married.”
He laughed out loud at that. “Because I don’t like white flour? What has that got to do with anything?”
“I’m a pastry chef,” she said, as if it were obvious.
“I ate your pancakes.”
She opened her mouth to make a comeback but just had nothing.
Stefan grinned when she closed her mouth again. “And I had seconds.”
She sat back in her chair and changed the subject. “You were planning on qualifying for the Iron Man this fall weren’t you?”
He shrugged. “Just wanted to shave a few minutes off my time. No big deal.” He dismissed it but she knew he was downplaying it. He’d never been happy with his time when he raced in 2004. He’d qualified for the next year but when Katrina blew up the Gulf Coast he had stayed home to help with the clean up. He hadn’t had a chance since then to go back to Hawaii, but this was his last year in this age class.
“There’s always next year,” she said.
He shook his head. “No, it’s done.” He’d made up his mind, and that hurt. She knew how much he loved it. She couldn’t imagine him actually giving it up. That was almost as bad as the suits she suspected she would be seeing a lot more of.
Their salads arrived. The spring mix topped with artichokes and figs looked gorgeous on the plate, but Jen doubted she was going to get any of it past her throat.
“So what space are you supposed to be looking at?” he asked, almost succeeding in sounding casual.
The world dropped out from under her and her fork clattered against her
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