I don’t bother denying anything. I just nod, because he’s right. I’ve always been attracted to Ginger. But sometime over the summer, my feelings for her started changing, and they’re becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. And now, tonight, we’re going to make edibles together. Fuck me. I’m in big trouble.
I knock on Laugh A Latte’s door and then wait for Ginger to let me in.
“Hey again,” she says, smiling. I follow her inside, and she leads me to the kitchen.
“I bet at this point you’re regretting offering to help me.”
She shakes her head and lets out a quick laugh. “Not at all. I’m actually excited to try something new, even if I feel like we’re about to commit a federal offense.”
“Technically, it’s legal,” I say, holding up a plastic syringe of full-spectrum cannabis oil. “But we can pretend we’re outlaws if you want.”
She shrugs. “If we’re going to be criminals, at least we’re festive ones.”
“Gingerbread and questionable decisions?” I suggest.
“Molasses and moral ambiguity?” She grins.
“That’s even better.”
She takes a quick bow. “Thank you.” She snatches two aprons from a hook and tosses one at me. “Put that on. You’re not allowed near my equipment without supervision.”
I loop the apron over my head. “If I can handle saws and drills, I’m sure I can manage to work a mixer.”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
She gets busy laying out ingredients along her stainless steel counter. There’s flour, sugar, pumpkin puree, vanilla chips, and a bowl of spices that smell good enough to eat. She points to a bowl. “Wash your hands, then crack two eggs and add the pumpkin and sugar.”
The first one cracks cleanly, but I botch the second one. A chunk of shell dives into the bowl.
She shakes her head. “Amateur. Nothing like crunchy pumpkin bars.”
“I prefer to think of it as a little surprise,” I say, fishing it out.
She snorts and moves around the kitchen with the kind of ease that tells me she could do this in her sleep. In fact, I’ve never seen her look so relaxed.
“All right, G, when do we add the fun stuff?”
“Baking is all about patience.”
“Yeah, which we know I don’t have,” I say, chuckling.
Her amused gaze flicks to me before returning to the pan she’s warming on the stove. “The best things in life are worth waiting for.”
“So I’ve heard.”
She nods toward a small bowl filled with orange gunk. “Add the pumpkin puree and the cup of sugar to the eggs, then stir.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I do as she instructs, making sure it’s all mixed together well.
She comes over with the small pan in hand. “I hope your arm’s not tired. I’ve heated the cannabis oil, and I’m going to combine it with the other ingredients.” She carefully pours the brownish oil into the bowl.
“I can do whatever you need,” I tell her.
“Good, because this oil is strong and needs to be mixed thoroughly. Otherwise we’re going to fuck your buyers up. Although, I guess that’s the point, right?”
“It depends on the individual.” I start out moving the spoon slowly, being careful not to spill any of the oil. “Some of my customers like the feeling of getting high. But the majority come for the health benefits it provides.”
Her dark-blonde eyebrows rise on her forehead. “Health benefits? How do you figure?”
