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My stomach rumbled when she put it on top of the glass case, right under my nose. Landon was right.
“It does look homemade... except for the whipped cream flag. It’s too perfect.”
He grinned. “We can mess it up. Can we have a spatula?”
The vendor was looking at us as if worried we were unhinged. “So you’re buying it?”
“Yes,” I assured her.
“I’m going in the back to bring you a box,” she said, handing me a spatula.
Landon and I both laughed once she disappeared through the door.
He held out his hand. “I believe I should do the honors. Since it was my idea.”
I pretended to consider this, tapping a finger against my chin. I loved the boyish enthusiasm lighting up his face.
“I didn’t peg you for a mischief maker.” I was still playing with the spatula between my fingers, and Landon was watching my every move. I wondered if he was making plans to snatch it away from me. Then I wondered if said plans included kissing me. I bit the inside of my cheek.
“Ah, that would be a correct impression. I was a mischief maker growing up. I just started taking myself too seriously in... recent years. You have an interesting effect on me.”
“Honored to claim that praise.”
I was slowly piecing together an image of who Landon had been over the years, and I was glad to help him rediscover bits of himself. Handing him the spatula, I pondered the effect he had on me. Usually, I wasn’t so open with people. It was as if Landon had dislodged some bricks off that wall I’d erected around myself on the day he kissed me. I wasn’t sure if it was because he’d pulled me out of the rain despite my manic stubbornness, or because being in his arms had felt so perfect. He maneuvered the spatula around the flag, messing up the whipped cream until it looked like an amateur chef had poured it.
“You’re good at this,” I said.
The multicolored cream on the edge of the spatula was beckoning to me. Which was why I was appalled when Landon brought it to his mouth without even offering it to me.
“Hey!” I gripped his hand after he’d had just one lick. “I want some of that too.”
“You’ll have to fight me on this, Maddie, because it’s so good, I don’t plan to leave you even a lick of it.” He took another swipe. “Come to think of it, Val might not buy it that you made this. It tastes too good.”
The nerve of him! That was it. I refused to be called out on my atrocious baking skills while he licked the spatula clean. I lunged at him, but he held his arm up, out of my reach. I was debating how ridiculous I’d look jumping up when I realized I didn’t have to. His armpit was ready to be tickled. He was wearing a rather thick cotton polo shirt, and the fabric was covering the sensitive area, but I was confident I could do some damage anyway. Landon shrieked when I ran my fingers over his armpit, his entire body coiling forward. He jerked his arm down, but then quickly raised it again. Damn, his reflexes were too good.
“You know how to play,” he teased.
“You’re standing between a woman and her whipped cream, Landon. That’s a dangerous place to be.”
“How dangerous?”
Lowering the spatula, he offered it to me. And then watched as I licked the frosting off. I went up in flames when I realized his mouth had been on it moments before. I didn’t know who leaned forward first, but suddenly his mouth was on mine and we were kissing like there was no tomorrow. He brought a hand to the small of my back, pressing me against him. I relished the contact, wanted even more. I didn’t want to let go. I wanted him to kiss me for hours. I hoped he planned to do that tonight after the fireworks. Or during the fireworks. I didn’t mind, really.
“Ahem.” The sound reached me as if through a haze, but it was a while until I realized it was the vendor clearing her throat. Landon and I stepped apart.
“Is the cake ready for packing?” she asked.
“Yes,” Landon and I answered at the same time. We watched in silence as she packed, then left after I paid. Landon’s phone buzzed when we stepped onto the street. He pulled it out, frowned, then shoved it back in.
“That looks like trouble,” I said.
“The partnership isn’t going as smoothly as it should.”
“Why not?”
“The owner of the other company keeps going back on points we’d already agreed upon.”
“Negotiations are your strong suit, though.”
