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I didn’t mention that I had thought I was going to kiss him too. I’d never felt an urge so deep. Thankfully I’d stopped myself. That would have been quite the beginning for an article about the bakery . . . The owner is crazy and has no inhibitions. That would be great for business.
“I think he would rather eat me for lunch than kiss me,” I whispered.
“Ooh. That sounds like fun.”
I playfully smacked her. “Get your mind out of the gutter.” I bit my lip and stared at the attractive man who was furiously jotting down notes on a pad of paper. “Can you hang around for a bit?”
Josie placed a hand on my shoulder. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, you know, just in need of some moral support.” Like the kind that would keep me from accosting the stranger. When I’d said I thought he was someone I knew, that wasn’t a 100 percent lie. I did feel like I knew him, though I couldn’t place him.
“Does a moral supporter get free cake and lemonade?”
“Doesn’t she always?” I grinned.
Josie tapped her full lips. “Why yes, she does. Now go do me proud.” She nudged me with her hip.
I shuffled over to the counter. Mateo, one of my pastry chefs, happened to emerge from the kitchen. I say happened to, but he had probably heard Josie, and we all knew he had a thing for her. I think Josie liked the Latin lover too. Mateo knew how beautiful he was, and he made sure to tell everyone his name meant gift of God. He translated that into him being God’s gift to women. Don’t get me wrong, he was handsome, with his flawless bronzed skin and athletic build. Too bad for him that Josie liked to be the only godlike one in a relationship. That didn’t stop them from relentlessly flirting, though.
“Hey, Mateo, will you please plate two slices of the French yogurt–and-blackberry cake I made this morning?”
“Sure thing, boss. Then can I take ten?” His dark-brown eyes drifted toward Josie sitting at the table with all the balloons, applying some of the lemon pressed lip gloss I’d made especially for her. Thanks to me she would never get a cold sore again.
“If you must,” I teased.
He hopped to it and dashed through the swinging wooden doors that led to the kitchen. He was back in no time with two slices of cake, garnished with mint leaves, on my signature pink plates.
“Thank you. And please behave. I don’t want Josie filing any sexual harassment claims against me.”
He slapped a hand on his chest, offended. “Me? She’s the one always coming on to me. But I like it.” He flashed me an impish grin before zooming toward my best friend. Those two just needed to make out already and get it over with.
I watched Josie pretend to be uninterested in Mateo before I took a deep breath and walked toward Mr. I Look Disgruntled. I set the plates on the table. “I thought you might like a sample of what we offer here.”
Eric sneered at the slices of cake like they had killed one of his loved ones. “I don’t do refined sugar.”
“Good thing, neither do I.” I took my seat across from him. “Everything we make here is completely organic and unprocessed. I make a chocolate frosting so good, you would never know it’s made with avocados and no sugar.” Though I did use raw sugar and other natural sweeteners in some of my cakes and frostings. What mortals failed to recognize was how their bodies were designed to tell them exactly what they needed and when they needed it. Instead, most of the time, they tried to fill it with whatever was convenient, usually processed food. Or worse, denied themselves, sometimes out of shame. If only they realized that if they ate intuitively, they would naturally be satisfied. They would even find their bodies needed some good old-fashioned dessert from time to time, and that was okay.
Eric looked unimpressed by my claim. So much so that he pushed the scrumptious cake topped with the prettiest blackberries to the side, picked up his fancy wooden pen, and tapped it against his pad of paper filled with notes. When I looked too closely at what he’d been writing, he covered it up with his hand.
I sighed audibly. He really needed to eat the dang cake. It would make him happy, or maybe in his case just less surly. If only I’d used more gotu kola in my blend this morning when making the cake. Although, too much wasn’t a good thing for most people. Once I’d accidentally doubled my own special blend and I had a bunch of customers behaving like laughing hyenas. It had made everything funny to them, including people sneezing.
“So, you bake cakes,” he started off.
