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We both look at the menu hanging above the counter, listing the multitude of flavors they have. A redheaded woman comes up to us with a big smile. “Can I get you guys anything to sample?”
“Um… I think we’re still looking?” Lainey says unsure, looking at me.
“Yeah, I think we need more time.” I nod.
“No worries, we also have some vegan options in the back that we keep separate if you need,” the woman says pleasantly.
“Thank you.” I have never had vegan ice cream, and I can’t imagine it tastes as good as real ice cream.
“I think I want the strawberry blitz,” Lainey says after a few minutes. I’m still looking over the flavors but I convince her to order hers, it’s not like it will melt in such a chilly shop.
“Can I get a scoop of mint chocolate chip?” I ask, and Lainey makes a face. “What?”
“You like mint chocolate chip?” She looks at me warily.
“I do. Is that bad?” I chuckle.
“It just tastes like toothpaste.” She makes a face, scrunching her nose.
“I don’t know what toothpaste you’ve been using, but no, it does not.” I laugh.
“You’ll see.” She shrugs.
I pay for the ice cream, pushing away Lainey’s attempt at trying to pay. Then we grab a table toward the back of the shop. It is cute, decorated with all kinds of ice cream memorabilia. Lainey digs into her ice cream, and I notice how quiet she is. But it doesn’t feel awkward, like we aren’t trying to force conversation or anything.
“How—”
“What—” We both start at the same time. I hold up my hand. “You go first.”
“I was going to ask how your ice cream was.” She laughs.
“It’s delicious, would you like some?” I ask, knowing the answer.
“No, thank you, I brushed my teeth before I left home.” She giggles.
“Tease all you want, but it tastes delicious to me.” I shrug. “How’s yours?”
“Good, but I think it could be better with some chocolate syrup. I think I’m going to ask for some.” She stands and I watch her curves bounce with each step. Fuck, is she doing this on purpose, looking so damn sexy?
She returns a few minutes later with chocolate syrup poured on top and a smile on her face. “Mmm, now it tastes like a chocolate covered strawberry.” She makes these sounds that cause me to clench my thighs together. She has no idea what she is doing to me, but the way she is licking her spoon clean makes me jealous of a damn spoon.
“So, how did your family get into the bakery business?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation flowing.
“My family had a recipe that was to die for cinnamon rolls, one day my parents decided to open a business and mostly sell them. They both loved baking and the small town aspect that Seaside has,” she explains happily. A smile crossing her face as she talks about her family.
“Do you have any siblings?” I ask.
“Nope.” She pops the p. “I’m the only child, unless you count the bakery as their second baby which I think my parents do.” She laughs. There is this ease about her, an almost lightness that she carries with her.
“Did you always want to take over the bakery for them?”
“Yes and no.” She frowns. “I think it’s expected of me and I don’t mind that most of the time, but sometimes I do wish I had a choice in what I wanted to do. I would probably still pick the bakery, but I just wish it was more my choice than being thrown in my lap,” she admits.
“Will you do it forever?”
“Probably, it’s been the only career I’ve ever known and I don’t see myself doing anything else in life. It makes me happy and it’s a job I like having. Not too many people can say that, even if they had the chance to choose for themself.”
“That’s true,” I agree.
