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“The unusual ones,” he puts in for me. “We found a place once that made a lemon biscotti flavor that had her groaning the whole time she was eating it. We didn’t have any alone time that evening, so it made for a long damn night.”
I stare at him, wide-eyed. That night, shortly before my high school graduation, is etched into my brain—and only in part because of the amazing ice cream. I remember being days away from turning eighteen and so, so aware of Hayden as a man, of wanting him until I ached and hating the fact he didn’t see me as anything but a child. “That’s not true.”
“You loved that ice cream.”
“I meant the way you felt about me.”
“I had you fooled.” He smiles. “I won’t embarrass Misty with the thousand and one filthy things I thought that night. I’ll tell you later.”
My cheeks turn unmistakably hot. They match the rest of my body, which flashes with need.
I squirm in my chair, not daring to say a word.
Misty clears her throat, looking amused. “We can start with the lemon. I’ve got a biscotti-flavored filling I can add if you’re partial to that flavor combination…”
Over the next twenty minutes, Misty and I chat about cake flavors in between testing each delectable bite. Beside me, I’m aware of Hayden licking frosting from his lips and watching me with an unnerving stare.
“I don’t think the carrot cake is for me,” I say.
“That was marble.” Hayden’s smirk says he knows he’s rattling me.
“Oh, sorry.” I smile at Misty to cover the awkward moment.
“Not at all. It’s a lot of flavors at once. I may have saved the best for last…”
Before I can reach for the final confection, Hayden plucks it from the tray, unwraps the paper from the spongy cake, and breaks it in half. One piece he plops in his mouth with a groan. The other he holds inches from my lips. I rear back, silently insisting I can feed myself.
He cups my nape and pulls me closer. “Open up, sweet pea.”
Swearing I’m going to get him back for this subterfuge and forced intimacy, I accept the bite. The second the cake hits my tongue, it melts into the most delicate sweetness balanced with a teeny hint of tart from the cream cheese frosting.
I groan. “I’m in heaven. What isthat?”
“Pink champagne.”
“Wow.” I’m in love.
“This is spectacular. But I know how it could taste better.” Hayden swipes his thumb across the corner of my mouth and comes away with a few crumbs and a dollop of frosting. I watch, unblinking and breathless, as he sets the digit in the middle of his tongue, closes his lips around it, and groans. “Now it’s perfect.”
Heat coalesces and sharpens into an insistent ache between my legs I can’t pretend I don’t feel.
When I realize Misty is staring, I swallow and try to find two coherent words to string together. “What kind of filling do you recommend with that?”
The baker looks amused. “Probably vanilla or almond. Both are good. Almond is a bit more unexpected and less sweet.” She reaches around to find a sample, then sets two little paper cups with a tiny plastic tasting spoon in front of me, then does the same for Hayden.
As we dip the small utensils into the samples, then onto our tongues, a look tells me we’re on the same page.
“Almond, for sure,” I tell Misty.
“I agree.”
It’s startling to realize that Hayden and I just agreed on a wedding cake flavor together—after he practically ate some off my lips. It’s so intimate…so couplish. And when he drops his hand to my thigh with a smile for Misty, I’m reeling—with confusion, with desire.
Abruptly, I stand. “I think we’re good here. You know the cake size.”
“I didn’t get a good look at your Pinterest board.”
“I’ll send you a link.” I’m eager to escape…until I realize I’ll be all alone with Hayden in the small cab of his truck with nothing but a mere eighteen inches separating us.
