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While we wait for them to cool, we wander from the bakery kitchen into the store to play with the fancy schmancy, expensive, super-automatic Barista 2000 espresso machine. This is where Barton and Watson have been not-so-subtly watching us on closed-circuit TV. They are only too eager to be guinea pigs with the coffee, though I think they were hoping to snag at least one cupcake with their beverage.
“I made thirty-six cupcakes, guys. You’ll get your taste. Belly up to the bar and try the espresso. Learning how to finesse this machine is going to take some trial and error.”
All four of us read the directions and watch a metric ton of instructional videos as we play with the machine and wait for the cupcakes to cool. Even Noble has become impatient and says, “I, for one, wouldn’t mind if the icing was a little melty.”
If we didn’t have an audience, I would pull him in for a kiss. It takes all I can do not to give him a look filled with all my pent-up longing. Instead, I take another sip of cappuccino.
Finally, we head back into the kitchen. Someday I will teach him how to use the piping bag to apply the icing. Today is not that day. I have a feeling if I don’t get some iced cupcakes into these males’ hands there might be an armed insurrection.
I don’t make them as beautiful as I would like, but I had to weigh beauty vs. speed. Today, it’s all about speed.
Half an hour later, I’ve looped big, fat swirls on top of the cupcakes, plopped several of each kind onto a cardboard box top, since I have no plates, and I waltz into the showroom with Noble trailing so close behind me I’m wearing him like a second skin.
I have to slap three sets of hands to keep them from snatching the baked goods off my makeshift plate. I ensure everyone has a fresh cup of coffee before all four of us belly up to one of the tiny bistro tables.
The two military men dig in, their eyelids floating closed as if they’re getting their first taste of heaven. Both of them have scarfed down their entire first cupcake before Noble unwraps his.
“Slow down, guys. I want you to taste the damn things and tell me which are your favorites.”
“I thoughtIwas your target demographic,” Noble snarks before he takes a connoisseur-level sniff of one of my Strawberry Lemonade Dreams, then delicately dips the tip of his burred tongue into the frosting.
Every muscle in his body stiffens. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he didn’t want to take another bite, but who doesn’t like cupcakes, right?
“What did you call this one again? I want to make copious mental notes.”
He’s stalling.
“That one is a Strawberry Lemonade Dream.”
“Yes. How could I forget?”
He takes another long pause before he licks the tiniest bite with the tippity tip of his tongue.
“Yum.”
I’ve never heard “Yum” said in such a mournful tone before.
“Take a bite, Roger,” Watson says.
When my head swivels to Corporal Watson, he shakes his head. “Whoops. I think Roger was your name one or two iterations ago. Sorry. I know you’re going by Noble now.”
The name debate does not veer my attention from Noble’s this-tastes-like-shit face.
“Not your favorite? Try the Unicorn Sparkle Delight. Blueberry and raspberry topped with dots of lemon meringue.”
I lean in, watching him. I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t like the Strawberry Lemonade Dream, but certainly, he can’t dislike the Unicorn Sparkle Delight.
“You’ve got to bite into it. Like this.” Barton shows him, eating half a cupcake in one big chomp.
With all our attention on him, Noble makes an earnest attempt and, following Barton’s lead, takes a humongous bite.
I remember going to my friend’s house when I was a kid and watching her feed her dog peanut butter. Unlike most dogs, this animal didn’t like it. The poor thing kept smacking his tongue, trying to get the distasteful food out of his mouth.
That Weimaraner had nothing on Noble, whose eyes are popped wide. His burred tongue is trying its best to eject the offensive bite of food from the confines of his fanged mouth.
The noise of his smacking tongue is superseded only by the pathetic retching sounds he’s trying to cover up by nodding his head and lying, “Delishisss.”
“Yeah. Delicious.”
