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Remembering their last attempt at a meal, Dee pointed at him playfully. “No pineapples?”
“No, ma’am.” Booker laughed. “No fruit of any kind. Promise.”
“In that case, deal.”
With that, Booker pulled back slightly, but angled toward her. One side of his mouth tugged upward in a half grin as his stare met her own. His brows inched upward. “Seal it with a kiss?”
Dee couldn’t speak, but she didn’t need to. She leaned in and let her lips answer. Slowly, softly, sweetly, following Booker’s lead until the kiss deepened and people began clapping around them. Scared she had caused a scene, she jerked away only to find the game starting back up.
“Ready for the second half?” Booker asked, adjusting his hat. He took measured breaths as he flitted his eyes between Dee and the field.
Dee considered the question. Was she ready for the second half?
Of the game? Yes, one hundred percent. Elijah always had a better second half than first and she couldn’t wait to watch.
For the second half of her life? A life with a grown son rather than a child? A life with dating? Maybe dancing? The shoes sitting in her living room flitted through her mind and Dee tamped down a giggle before answering.
“Absolutely,” she said, hope rising within. Thirty and thriving might not be such a far fetched future after all.
About the Author
Beth Pugh is a Selah Award finalist and local award-winning author who has been published by The Good Men Project, Scary Mommy, Sasee, Chicken Soup for the Soul, Lexington Herald-Leader, and On Parenting at The Washington Post. Born and raised in the hills of eastern Kentucky, she learned early on that nothing compares to the timeless traditions of home cooked meals, front porch sitting, and Sunday morning church services. Now, she hopes to share those same traditions with her readers. She has seen God turn her greatest grief into joy and tells everyone she meets about the goodness of the Father—sometimes multiple times in one sitting if there’s coffee and donuts involved. When she isn’t writing, you’ll find her hanging out with her husband and son, reading on the couch, or cheering for the Chicago Cubs just like her daddy taught her to do. Sometimes, her characters do those things, too.
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https://bethiebug77.wixsite.com/website
Cookies And Kisses
Marie Soleil
Chapter One
Madeleine
There’s nothing better than the smell of freshly baked cookies.
Scratch that.
There’s nothing better than a gorgeous man carrying a tray of freshly baked cookies. Ones that he's made with his own two hands.
Mason Bond, the man with the cookies, sets the tray down on the counter and looks me up and down with his intense, deep brown eyes. His chocolate brown hair flops over his forehead as he assesses me.
I wonder if he smells like chocolate, too. But I don’t think sniffing my potential boss is a good way to start off this job interview.
“Can I help you?” he asks, his brow furrowed.
I clutch my sparkly pink recipe notebook a little tighter. “Uh, yes. I’m Madeleine?” Why did I ask it as a question? Probably because I’m so thrown by his confusion. Bring on the confidence, Madeleine. Pull it together. “I’m here for the interview.”
He shakes his head slightly. “What interview?”
I swallow hard. What in the world? “Um, the bakery assistant position? I was contacted by…” I pull out my phone and double check the email. “Monica Bond.”
He grunts. “Please wait a moment.” He stomps through the swinging door that separates the front of the bakery from the kitchen.
I take a moment to gather myself and recover from whatever just happened there, looking around the bakery he created called Cookies. That’s it, just Cookies. Not super creative. Maybe if I get the job, I can convince him that he needs a catchier name.
I peer through the glass display cases at the intricate cookie creations. Sugar cookies, macarons and macaroons, chocolate chip cookies, butter cookies, and even my namesake—Madeleines. Just looking at them makes my mouth water.
