Kiss My Cupcake(20)

She makes a guttural sound, rolls her eyes, and mutters something under her breath. I don’t quite catch all of it, but I swear it sounds sexual.

I probably need to get laid.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” She keeps that smile plastered on her face, but her cheeks have flushed pink. “What can I get for you today, Ronan?”

“Dunno, what’d you recommend?”

“I’d recommend Death by Chocolate again, but we’re fresh out and you always seem opposed.” She taps her pink-glossed lips and hmms. They’re full. A little pouty. Probably perfect for kissing.

Yup, definitely need to get laid.

“Oh! Actually, I have something special for you today.”

“Special?”

“Mmm.” She arches a brow and spins around, her skirt flaring impressively. There’s a bow knotted at the center of her back. Even her apron is tied perfectly, which seems impossible since she can’t see the back of it. Unless she has someone do it for her.

She’s in the middle of retrieving something—not from the cupcake case—when a lanky guy wearing a polo that reads CUPCAKES TO GO! over his left pec appears from the back of the café.

“All set for tomorrow morning. You need anything else before I take off?” He runs a hand through his thinning hair.

She abandons the box, which I’m assuming is for me, and takes a few steps in his direction. “Thanks so much for taking care of all of this tonight instead of tomorrow morning, Paul. I know it’s going to be a busy day for you.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to leave you hanging.” His shoulders roll back and his smile oozes pride and satisfaction.

“You’re a godsend.” She puts a manicured hand on his forearm. “I would’ve been here all night if I’d tried to pull that off on my own.”

That smile of his widens further and he tips his chin down as she tips hers up. “Can’t have you turning into a zombie on me.”

“I appreciate your concern for my well-being and my non-zombie status.” She gives his arm a squeeze and steps back. “Now you should go because it’s getting late, and I don’t want you to be the zombie on account of being here so late.”

She turns away from Paul and his gaze follows her. She crosses over to the sink, turns on the tap, and lathers up her hands. She hums a tune under her breath as she rubs her palms together. She also does a hip shake.

He glances at me as he takes a step back and his expression shifts to hostility. Huh. That’s interesting.

He knocks into the bussing cart, which gets Blaire’s attention.

“Oh! Thank you so much for taking that to the back, Paul. Callie has been running off her feet all day and we’ll both definitely appreciate the help.”

“Oh, right, yeah, of course. Have a good night, Blaire.”

“You, too.”

He backs down the hall, throwing me one final glare before he disappears. I wonder if she’s mentioned me to him, and if so, I’m guessing whatever she said wasn’t all that pleasant. Blaire sashays across the small space, holding a plate with a single cupcake. She sets it down on the counter and pushes it toward me. “Here you go. I made this one special for you.” She winks.

I glance down at the cake. There’s a tiny cookie-shaped decoration on top with the phrase EAT ME in block capital letters.

I lift my gaze to hers. “You made this for me?”

She blinks once—that same, almost unnervingly placid smile plastered on her gorgeous face. Wait. Gorgeous? Since when do I find her and her odd fashion sense attractive?

“I did,” she replies.

I glance back down at the cake, assessing the details more carefully. The tiny cookie looks like it’s made out of candy and the letters have been painted on with an incredibly steady hand. I touch the edge, gently and with care. “What about this? Did you make this?”

“Yup. It’s not laced with arsenic or anything. You can eat it without worrying about your health.”

“I wasn’t until you said that.”

“I wouldn’t risk the welfare of my entire business over you.” She’s still smiling, but there’s a sharp edge to her tone, like a razorblade slice.

I laugh a little. “You’re killing me with your kindness, Blaire.”

“Are you gonna eat it or what?” She leans against the edge of the counter.

Obviously I’ve reached the limit to her patience, which is exactly what I’ve been waiting for. I love it when she gets sour with me. Like one of her lemon curd-filled cupcakes.

“You gonna jam it in my mouth for me if I don’t?”

“Maybe.” Her lips twitch.

“Don’t you want me to savor the experience?” I pluck the tiny candy cookie from the top. “It doesn’t say devour me, it says EAT ME. Slow or fast is always the question. Slow is usually better, though, don’t you think?” What in the actual fuck am I doing? Am I using sexual innuendos?

The design on the cupcake is clearly an Alice in Wonderland reference, not an actual invitation to eat her. And why am I suddenly thinking about what that would be like? Is she quiet or loud? I bet she’s demanding. Probably bossy. And there’s nothing sexier than a woman who tells you exactly what she wants.