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“Hi Mr. Whitmore. Nice to see you again,” I squeak out.
“Hi Lacey.” He turns and points to Shane and Beth who are completely engaged with each other and haven’t even noticed Mr. Whitmore standing there.
I give him a shrug. “Shane just got here. For you know…a brownie.” I wink.
“Right. A brownie,” Mr. Whitmore says, rolling his eyes.
I almost die right there on the spot. He seriously just rolled his eyes better than a teenage girl. I smile hard. This is the most endearing thing I have seen from this man, and it just stabbed me right in gut and made its way into my heart. My cheeks are now flushed and I’m having trouble focusing. I look at what’s in the cases. Cookies. Okay we have cookies. Focus. Offer him something.
“Can I get you a cookie Mr. Whitmore?”
“Actually, that’s exactly what I came here for. A peanut butter deluxe if there are any left?” He asks with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
I quickly scan the case and see three left. Thank God. “Do you want the rest. I have three?” I ask.
Mr. Whitmore pauses. “You know what. Yes, give me all three please.”
I quickly package the cookies and hand them over the counter to him. He pulls out his wallet and I wave my hand. “No, really Mr. Whitmore. It’s on the house.”
He looks me in the eyes. I swear his eyes are looking into my soul or through me or maybe he’s just wondering if I’m serious. It doesn’t really matter because his gaze is setting my body on fire.
“Okay. Well, why don’t you come sit with me over at the table then?” He asks.
I practically run around the counter and walk with him to the empty table in the corner. I sit and place my hands in my lap away from his view. I can’t help but rub them over and over as nervous energy shoots through my limbs. Mr. Whitmore places his bag with his cookies on the table and leans towards me.
“Lacey, tell me about this place. What made you open a bakery?”
His voice is quieter than normal. I glance over at Beth who has taken a seat at another table with Shane. Things must be going well. I look down at my lap and bring my hands to the tabletop palms down. The cool wrought iron feels good on my palms. I steady myself and look at Mr. Whitmore. This is the closest I’ve seen his eyes, his face, his everything. This man should be in the movies. It takes every ounce of concentration I have to organize my thoughts into comprehensible words.
“Well, growing up it was just my mom and me. And we baked every weekend. She loved it and we tried new recipes all the time. Baking makes me happy and now I feel like I’m honoring her,” I say in one long sentence barely stopping to breathe.
Mr. Whitmore’s expression is hard to read. He leans back in his chair and softly nods his head as if to acknowledge my statement is some troubled past I’m still reeling with. The truth is my mom died of ovarian cancer when I was in college, and it did take me years to get over it. I’m still not over it, is anyone really? But my therapist helped me work through it and I’m in a much better place now. Baking reminds me of her every day in the best way possible. I just want to make her proud.
“Not many people can say their work makes them happy. That’s something to treasure. You should be doing this full time,” he says.
Mr. Whitmore looks me dead in the eyes. I think for a split second I see his bottom lip tremble just slightly, but it could also be the fact that I’m barely holding myself together sitting across from all his handsomeness staring back at me. I hold his gaze and tap my finger on the table. “That’s the goal. Beth and I are getting there. Just got to dig out of a little hole first.”
I can see Mr. Whitmore’s jaw clench and unclench and wonder if this is just a habit or if it’s his way of choosing his next words. I see his mouth open just slightly when I spot Shane and Beth walking to our table.
“Hey Jared,” Shane says.
I hesitate for a minute as my brain processes that Shane just called Mr. Whitmore by his first name. I get that their close friends but hearing his first name makes me weak in the knees. It’s just another reminder that Mr. Whitmore may be a CEO and a big name in this town but he’s still human and has friends that call him by his first name. This is not helping me not be attracted to him.
Beth gives me a nudge in the arm. I look up at her as she directs her eyes to Mr. Whitmore, and I know what she’s asking without saying a word. “Mr. Whitmore. This is Beth. My business partner and best friend.”
I watch as Beth takes a step forward and shakes hands with Mr. Whitmore.
Mr. Whitmore smiles as he looks at me then Beth. “Nice to meet you Beth. You and Lacey are putting out some amazing pastries. I’m already hooked on the peanut butter deluxe cookies.”
I can see Beth shoot him a smile and in one long sentence her words are out of her mouth. “Well, I don’t know any man that doesn’t like peanut butter. Unless you have an allergy of course. You don’t do you? I mean, you would know that simply by the name of the cookie. I mean you wouldn’t go eat a cookie named peanut butter deluxe if you had a peanut allergy. Obviously. Duh.”
Oh boy. Beth is all doped up on adrenaline. That conversation with Shane must have gone well because I haven’t seen her like this in forever. I smile and gently interrupt before Beth embarrasses herself. “So, can I get you both anything else tonight?” I ask, looking at Mr. Whitmore then at Shane.
Shane laughs. “I do want another brownie but I’m not going to get one. I don’t want to be greedy.” Shane looks over at Mr. Whitmore and pats him on the shoulder. “So are you ready to meet some potential investors tomorrow?”
I stare up at Shane not sure what he’s referring to as he looks at Mr. Whitmore. Mr. Whitmore returns his attention to me, and I freeze not sure what to say.
“Lacey, I was hoping you could join me tomorrow for a meeting with some potential investors for the new project. I could use someone who can run some numbers as we’re meeting.”
