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“This one is amazing,” he said, holding up the butterscotch one. “Actually, they’re all fucking amazing, but if I think about it, I know I’ll spend the next week trying to talk myself into every flavor, so use this one.”
“Strawberry and butterscotch.” I smiled, tucking hair behind my ear. “It’s my favorite, too.”
“Then I made the right choice.” His lips pulled up. “Thank you for this.”
“You’re paying me for it. A lot.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgement. “True, but twelve different samples? That’s above and beyond, Piper.”
“Well, it was a little fun.” I pinched my finger and thumb together. “And I really couldn’t decide once I’d written them all down. Now the flavor combo is done, I can work out the actual recipe, because that’s just done with my unseasoned cake batter.”
“It’s going to get better? Jesus, I might never leave this town.”
I laughed and picked up the slate tablet it was on. I needed to wash it before it got super sticky, and since this was my personal one, I didn’t want that. “Don’t forget frosting. Although I’ll probably go with a simple vanilla frosting with half a strawberry on because the cupcake itself is so flavorful.”
“I have no idea how you can come up with stuff like this.”
“I have no idea how you can pull a whole book out of your brain, so we’re about even here.”
His chuckle was low. “I suppose we’re not that different, really.”
“Except the fire department doesn’t threaten me when I bake.”
“That was low.”
“Like your baking skill.”
He opened his mouth but nothing came out. He smacked his hand against the table. “Fuck. I’m so much wittier when I write. That was brilliant.”
I couldn’t stop laughing. I’d always been somewhat quick-witted, but that was good, even for me.
“You win.” He shook his head, then swigged from his beer. “I’m writing that down as soon as I get home to go in this book.”
“I told you. You should just write my life at this point.”
“I think I might be. I have your routine, your recipes, your one-liners. It’s part biography.”
I flicked my hair. “You’re welcome. Isn’t your laptop in your bag? Why don’t you just write it down now?”
He rubbed his fingers over his mouth. “I don’t want to bother you any longer.”
“You’re not bothering me.” I finished wiping the slate down and put it on the draining board to dry off. “If you go back to your apartment, are your neighbors going to be playing loud music?”
“Probably.”
“So hang out here for a while.”
“Piper, I—”
I stared at him. “Mav, we’re friends. Everywhere else is either closed or closing, and I don’t mind.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m not going to beg you.” I snort-laughed. “But it’s fine. Really. But I warn you, I go to bed early. I’m part-grandma at this point.”
A smile slowly spread across his face. “Have you eaten yet?”
“Dinner? No. I was just going to order something in.”
He walked over to my fridge and stuck his head in it. “Chicken… potatoes… do you have any vegetables?”
“I don’t know what those are.”
He peered around the door and fixed me with a look. “Are you for real?”
I held out my hands and smiled. “I can’t cook. Kind of pointless to keep food I can’t really cook.”
“How do you look that good with your apparently awful diet?”
“Thank you.” I leaned against the kitchen counter and cradled my wine glass. “I’m on my feet all day and probably don’t eat as much as I should. I’m constantly moving around the kitchen.”
He slowly nodded. “All right. Anything in your freezer?”
“Oh, there might be some peas in there.”
“Peas.”
“Maybe. I only really use it for ice-cream.”
“Again.” He motioned to my body, waving his hand up and down. “How? I’ve put on like five pounds in the last week and I’ve been working out.”
My eyes dropped to his biceps before I quickly raised my gaze again. “But you’re sitting all day. You could do high intensity cardio for like forty-five minutes and have an amazing workout, but my nine hours minimum on my feet every single day will burn more calories in the long run.”
“I suppose you’re right.” He opened the freezer door and started rummaging through it. “Frozen pizza… ice cubes… ready meals… Jesus, Piper.”
“What?” I put my glass down. “I cook all day. I’m tired of ovens by the time I come up here.”
“Peas.” He held up a brand-new bag of peas. “How long have they even been in that freezer?”
“At least since I moved in, and I only bought them because my mother called and insisted I had vegetables in the apartment.”
“Well, there’s not much of a choice. That’s all there is.” He put them back and shut both doors, then turned to me. “What about herbs? Spices?”
I shook my head. “Not up here. They’re all downstairs in the pantry.”
“Do you mind?”
