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My brain can’t form words to answer this question. I look back up at James with a smile that is so goofy it borderlines special. His shoulders shake in silent laughter. “Yes, please.”
We both take a cupcake, and without thinking, I remove the wrapper and shove the entire thing in my mouth. As soon as the sweetness hits my tongue, I have a mouthgasm. My eyes roll into the back of my head as I garble, “Holy shit, that’s amazing.” James nods in agreement, biting into his cupcake like a normal person.
The older woman tells us, “This one’s a light vanilla base with white choc macadamia ganache.”
But I physically can’t right now. I lean back into my boss and rest my head on his shoulder. “Jesus C. I can’t even. That was just…I’m not even…so, so good. So damn good.” His shoulder bobs and I know he’s laughing at me again, but I don’t even care.
The woman smiles at me. “You like?”
Prying my now-sleepy eyes open, I respond through a sigh, “I love.”
Her nose wrinkles with amusement. She turns to her co-worker. “Verna, add one of these to this young lady’s sample boxes.”
My eyes snap open. “No way.”
Behind the counter, an amused Verna replies with a soft shoulder shrug, “Way.”
I turn to James, bottom lip trembling with emotion. “Best day ever.”
I’m not surprised when he wraps an arm around my shoulder and squeezes. But I am surprised when he lowers his li
ps to my ear and whispers, “You’re adorable.” I’m surprised, because James ticks all the boxes for me. He’s attractive, tall, and sweet as sugar, but the spark…it’s missing.
Stupid son of a spark bitch. Show yourself! I know he said he doesn’t date employees, but he didn’t mention anything about having sex with them. I mean, I’m due, for crying out loud! It’s been forever since I’ve had sex, and right now, James is looking like a mighty fine contender. He’s also been giving all the go-ahead signs. Or, at least, I think he has. Maybe I’m just hoping he’s sending those signs, and because I’m horny, the horniness is fogging my intentions radar.
What’s worse is that my once-a-night happy time has come to a halt. Imagine my surprise when my first night in New York, I settle into bed and reach for Mr. Squeal-A-Lot, only to be reminded I removed the batteries before I packed it. If I had gone to Nat’s at eleven pm and asked her for batteries, the skank would’ve given me that look. The one that says ‘I know what you need these for, you dirty Gertie’. Not to mention, she probably would’ve told Ash. Screw that.
Mental note: Buy a pack of batteries.
On second thought…
Revised mental note: Buy a bulk pack of batteries.
Maybe James can be my very own personal happy time friend. I must look into this, but not too far. I don’t want to end up being that girl. Or better yet, that employee.
Mental shudder.
Testing the waters, I wrap my arm around his waist and squeeze back, smiling up at him. “Back at ya.” I allow my arm to linger around his solid body, liking the feel of him very much. I expect a reaction of some sort, a change in demeanor even, maybe for him to stiffen in uncertainty or for him to give me sexy eyes, but I’m shafted. I get nothing.
Friendly James is just that. Friendly. So friendly that as I reach into my pocket to get money to pay for my cupcakes, James reaches over and pays for all three boxes without ever releasing his hold on me. I’m speechless, and quite frankly, I feel slightly uncomfortable about it. That is until he pulls me closer to him and utters, “Don’t be pissy. It’s just a welcoming gift.” Nose bunched in annoyance, I glare at him. He just smirks. “Welcome to New York.”
I take our bags full of cake and allow James to lead me out of the bakery. It’s close to six pm now, and I reach into my pocket to check the subway schedule. We walk in silence until I realize I’ve just missed my way home. “Crap. I gotta call my sister to come get me.”
“I can take you home.” I look up at him with a tentative look on my face. He drawls, “That is, if it’s not weird for you.”
Dude, he already knows where you live from your paperwork. What gives?
I guess so. But something feels off. My silence is making this awkward. “Um, sure. Only if it’s not out of your way.”
He asks, “Where do you live?” I prattle off the address and he assures me, “That’s actually on my way, so no biggie.” We walk down the street to the center’s parking lot. He walks over to red family sedan and unlocks it. I smile to myself. This is not the car I envisioned him having. When we’re both seated, he catches my smile. “What?”
I shake my head. “I thought you’d have a truck, or something manly.”
He shrugs. “This was my mom’s car.” Then he grins sheepishly. “My truck’s at home.”
“I knew it!” I clap my hands together and whoop.
We drive out of the parking lot. “Yeah, yeah. You win at life. Congratulations.”
