Bachelor at Her Bidding (Bachelor Auction Book 2)(43)

“Hmm,” Rachel said.

Susie waited until everyone was over and had a mug of coffee before she brought the box through. And then she opened the lid.

The cake was made of lots of layers, all in perfect straight lines. The top had glossy dark glazing that reflected things as if it was a mirror. One corner had an artful scribble of white chocolate across it, and the opposite corner had three long curls of white chocolate placed on top of each other to make it look like an abstract daisy, an effect intensified by the little bits of gold leaf in the center of the “flower”.

“That’s spectacular,” Hannah said. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Right at that moment, Rachel’s phone beeped with a message. Even before she looked at it, she knew who it would be from, and what it would be about. Ryan, with tasting notes on the cake.

“He says it’s an Opéra cake,” she said. “Three layers of joconde – that’s a coffee-soaked almond sponge – with layers of coffee mousse and chocolate ganache, and the top is chocolate mirror frosting.”

And there was another of his chocolate labels. However long it takes me, I’ll keep trying to make it up to you.

“Any man who apologized to me like this,” Lizzy said, “I’d definitely forgive.”

“Hmm,” Rachel said, and texted Ryan. Thank you for the cake, from all of us.

“I have strict instructions,” Susie said. “He left me a knife, and apparently I need to dip it in hot water before I cut the cake, and clean the knife and dip it in hot water again before I make a second cut.”

“Well, he is a chef. He’d be fussy about the way it’s served,” Dayna pointed out. “And it would be the way to get a clean cut. It’d be a shame to spoil those straight lines by squidging the cake.”

Lexy was the first of them to take a mouthful. “Oh, my God. This is even better than it looks! Rachel, you have to forgive him.” She looked thoughtful. “On condition he makes us cakes on Thursdays if we’re not going out. Any cake he likes, as long as it’s cake.”

“You,” Rachel said, “are a little too easy to please.” Then she took a mouthful and almost – almost – agreed with her friend.

But she wasn’t ready to give in yet. Winning her sister and her friends over to his side was just cheating.

*

Friday’s delivery was at her desk again. Ryan’s tasting note via text told her that it was a mille-feuille – caramelized puff pastry, with rose and raspberry crème piped between the layers. The top had thin sugar glaze with a pattern iced on it, plus a candied rose petal and a raspberry. The pastry was thin and crisp, and absolutely melted in her mouth.

And the message on the chocolate label was very simple. I miss you.

Yeah.

She missed him, too.

*

On Saturday morning, a courier arrived at Rachel’s apartment mid-morning with a familiar white bakery box. This one contained a dome with a beautiful deep purple frosting, topped with a white chocolate snowflake.

He could, she thought, have brought it himself rather than sending it by courier.

Or maybe he thought she wanted him to stay away.

Dutifully, she texted him. Thank you for the cake.

It’s a chocolate sponge base with a white chocolate mousse containing huckleberry pate, and huckleberry gla?age, was the reply.

What’s gla?age? she texted.

Jargon, sorry. Parisian chefspeak for a thin creamy frosting.

It tasted amazing.

And the message on the chocolate label summed up how Rachel felt. The world doesn’t feel right without you.

She’d talk it over with her family tomorrow, she decided.

*

Sunday’s box was sitting on the counter in her mother’s kitchen when Rachel arrived. Not content with getting her sister and her friends on his side, now he clearly intended to recruit her family to his campaign, too.

“You missed him by ten minutes,” her mother said. “He says it’s something called a Fraisier.” She paused. “I did ask him to stay for lunch, but he said he was going to visit with Phyllis.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He looked so sad, Rach. Lonely.” Her mother gave her a pointed look as if to say, and so do you.

“Mom, I…” Rachel blew out a breath. “He keeps sending me cakes to say sorry.”

Susan Cassidy spread her hands. “He’s very good at cakes. Susie sent me pictures of the ones he sent earlier. And she brought me a piece of the one he sent on Thursday. It’s amazing.”

“Right now,” Rachel said, “I don’t know whether to feel angry with him for getting my family and friends on his side, or whether to accept his apology and agree to start again. He’s driving me crazy.”

“I took a peek. There’s a note with it.”

“Written in white chocolate on a label of dark chocolate. That’s what he’s done all week,” Rachel said.

All the same, she read the label. I’m really, really sorry for hurting you.

“He’s gone to quite an effort to show you he means it,” Susan said. “And this is all his own work. He hasn’t just thrown money at the stores in the hope of buying an apology. This, to me, looks like a labor of love, because I don’t think any of these can be made in the blink of an eye.”