Authors: Bella Cruise
In
one, I’m imagining all the things I can do to this space to
make it perfect, to make it
mine
.
And in the other, I’m imagining all the delicious, delectable,
and perfectly edible things I can do to Cal.
I
kiss him deeply. His mouth opens to mine. His strong hands wrap their
way around my slender waist. We kiss again and again and again,
until, breaking away from the heat of my body, he lets out a laugh.
“You’re
welcome, Juliette,” he says. I drop my head against his chest,
letting out laughter, too. This is too perfect, too wonderful, almost
too much for me to bear.
“Thank
you,” I whisper back joyfully. Then I lift my head and leave a
gentle kiss on his bottom lip. “I love you.”
“I
love you, too,” he says. And in a moment, he’s kissing me
again. His hands are all over me, too, and I’m thinking of all
the places we can fuck in here, now that it’s mine: the
counters, the kitchen, the stupid overstuffed leather sofas, now
mercifully hidden behind drop cloths.
But
before we can, there’s a knock at the locked front door. Cal
turns and starts toward it. Then he hesitates.
“You
have the keys,” he says. He’s right. I do. I go to the
door, and fumble with the lock. Then I throw it open for the first
time.
It’s
Ginny and Luke, and they come bearing Chinese take-out.
“You
knew about this,” I say, and give Ginny a punch in the
shoulder. Then one for Luke, too, for good measure. “You both
knew!”
They
exchange a glance and both burst into laughter together, a chorus.
“Of
course we did, Jules,” Luke says, stepping past me. “But
we didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”
“Et
tu, Ginny?” I ask, as she follows Luke inside and starts
setting the cartons out along the counter.
“I
figured you could use some good news,” she tells me. “Also
some pork fried rice.”
“Yum,”
I say, stepping closer, “,y favorite.”
“I
know,” Ginny says, at the same time Cal says, “Mine too!”
Cal
and I exchange a glance. Then both of our mouths light up with
laughter. It’s so absurd, this night, these friends, this
ridiculous man. And so wonderful, too. I walk right up to Cal and
kiss him again, our bodies arcing to meet in all the right places.
“Get
a room, lovebirds,” Luke jokes. Reluctantly, I pull away from
Cal.
“I
have a room,” I shoot back at Luke. “I have an entire
restaurant.”
Ginny
shakes her head. “You have more than that. You have a
completely amazing interior space with some of the best natural
lighting and acoustics I’ve ever seen.”
“You
really know how to make a girl feel special,” I tell her, as I
dig into the pork fried rice. Cal’s standing beside me, one
hand on my hip, waiting to eat.
“I
think she’s asking you if she can rent it,” he whispers
in my ear, his voice rich and soft. “You know, for her
wedding.”
“Hmm.
I don’t know about that. You think we can trust her? We’ll
have to ask for a huge deposit. I’ve heard her friends really
know how to party.”
When
I look up at Ginny, her smile’s as bright and as shining as the
Florida Keys.
Three
months later . . .
Ever
since I was a kid, I always thought the most important day of my life
would be my wedding day, or maybe Ginny’s. One of us would be
wearing a white dress, holding the train for the other, while a
handsome groom waited on the other side of some ornate church door.
In my fantasies, the guy never mattered so much as the experience: my
best friend and I together, ready to step over the threshold into a
brand new life.
And
in a way, I wasn’t wrong. Because on the most important day of
my life, Ginny’s right by my side. But she’s not wearing
a dress of antique white lace, and I’m not, either. She’s
dressed in a suit today, a little absurd for the Key West heat, but I
need her to look professional if she’s going to be my Angelique
Sutton for the day. That’s exactly what she’s been. She’s
been up since dawn, fighting with vendors, making sure all the
promotion went off without a hitch. When she finally comes through
the back door of the shop, looking harried and tired, I press a kiss
to her cheek.
“You’re
a lifesaver, Gin,” I say to her.
“As
long as you’re letting me use this place for free in a month,
I’ll do anything,” she shoots back, grinning broadly. I
watch her eyes scan the store, taking in every single square foot of
the renovated space. “You know, it really looks amazing.”
She’s
right, if I do say so myself. It does. In the end, I kept the
distressed wood floors. But we’ve covered up the exposed wood
beams and painted the walls in a cacophony of bright, colorful
shades, turquoise and creamsicle orange and red and yellow, too. Pub
tables dot the seating area, each one made out of wood reclaimed from
old boats. It looks beachy without screaming “tourist joint!”
My hope has been to capture all the things I love about my lifelong
home on the Keys, the colors and the craziness and the wild locals,
too. In fact, the far wall bears a memorial to one: Mrs. O’Gilligan’s
framed pink biker jacket. She rode her vespa to that biker convention
in the sky last month, and while it’s bittersweet that she
can’t be here for opening day, I know she’s with my
grandmother, both of them looking down at me with a knowing wink.
My
throat feels tight, but I shake off the feeling. This is no time to
be sad. This is the culmination of everything, all of my career hopes
and dreams. I throw my arms around Ginny’s neck and give her a
squeeze. But before I can thank her, I hear hollering in the back
kitchen.
“I’d
better go put out that fire,” I tell her.
“Go
get him,” she says.
It’s
Cal. Of course it is. His brow is tense and low, his dark hair crazy
disheveled. He’s screaming at one of the delivery guys. I
quickly swoop in to intervene, setting a hand on his bicep.
“Honey,”
I say, “
my
restaurant,
not yours. Jimmy, you can put that flour right here. It’s fine.
Thank you.”
Jimmy
puts down the bag of flour and scurries off. After he’s gone,
Cal massages his brow.
“I’m
sorry, love. I just wanted everything to be perfect.”
I
stand on tiptoes to press a kiss against his freshly-shaved cheek.
He’s well-dressed for the opening, in a smart linen suit that’s
perfect for the heat. He looks great, smells great, tastes great when
I kiss him full on the mouth and he opens his lips for mine.
“I
know you do,” I say, after pulling away. “You’ve
been such a help so far. I couldn’t have done it without all
the promotion you’ve done.”
It
really has been amazing. He’s taken out full page ads in all
the major papers, done a promo spot on the Food Network for me, and
even let the paparazzi chase us down the street last week to make
sure we’d get in all the gossip rags. After three months, I
know how Cal feels about all this television stuff. It’s a
necessary evil, but mostly an evil. And yet he didn’t seem to
mind helping, not when it was for me.
Case
in point: Cal loops an arm around my waist.
“It
was nothing,” he says. Even though the kitchen is loud and busy
around us, packed full of workers, he doesn’t seem to notice or
care. His strong hands hold my hips firmly. He could sweep me into
his arms in an instant, but he doesn’t get the chance. Summer
comes bursting through the crowd of counter girls, who all roll their
eyes at the intrusion. I guess you could say that I hire with a
certain aesthetic in mind.
“You
guys,” she says, “don’t be disgusting. I think I
just puked in my mouth a little. Gag. It’s like watching my mom
get it on with Bobby Flay.”
Cal
flips Summer the bird, but I’m full of laughter.
“What
do you want, Summer?”
“You
mean besides a raise?”
“I
gave you a raise. And a promotion.” Summer’s now Director
of Kitchen Operations. It’s a step up, for sure, but some
things never change. Two days ago, I had a bunch of delivery guys
wheel in the old Wedgewood with a massive red bow on top. She
threatened to burn the whole store down, but I’m pretty certain
it was an idle threat.
“Yeah,
yeah, well, I thought you should know that it’s time to get the
show on the road. Except, you know, it’s not a show, and we’re
not going on the road. It’s a bakeshop. And it’s going to
open. Like,
now
,
Jules.”
I
glance at my watch. Crap, she’s right. And I’ve almost
missed it.
“We
can’t open yet,” Cal says. “We haven’t done
the most important thing.”
He
lets me go at last. My body aches for him, even now, amid all this
chaos and bustle. But his grin is broad and mischievous. He goes to
the fuse box and flips a switch.
Then
he takes my hand and leads me outside.
#
The
sign outside is pink neon twisted into a looping script. It’s
one word, brightly burning in the morning sunlight:
Juliette’s
.
It
fills me with joy to see it. Rock N Roll Cakes was my passion, but I
knew it would never quite be what I dreamed it could be. Not with
rent and bank loans hanging over my head. This place, though, is
truly mine, just like the sign says. It’s everything I ever
dreamed it could be, and several things I never dared.
And
despite the fact that it just opened four minutes ago, it’s
already packed. Cal, Ginny, Luke, and I all stand on the corner
across the street, watching the customers stream in. The line wraps
all the way around the block. I haven’t seen this street this
busy since Mecca Cakes’ grand opening. And just like then,
there are some familiar faces in the crowd, too. Sage Tunlaw comes by
to congratulate me and give me a green aventurine necklace for
prosperity. Wes Lansing has brought his whole family, and pops by to
introduce me to his kids. Mr. Honeycutt strolls by, a massive cupcake
in hand. If business keeps up like this, I won’t have to worry
about paying back that bank loan, not at all. Even Mr. Reynolds looks
pleased as he orders a slice of plain vanilla cake from one of our
counter girls, but then, he was here just a week ago, when he passed
our store with flying colors. Guess I know how to win over a health
department inspector.
“I
am
so
proud of you, Jules,” Ginny says. Cal, with his arm around me,
gives me a squeeze. Even Luke looks appreciative, which means a lot.
He’s generally not the type to wear his heart on his sleeve.
But
then I feel Cal tense beside me. I follow the line of his eyes.
Paparazzi at ten o’clock. Even though it would be great press,
I figure he’s sacrificed enough this week at the altar of
Juliette’s. Time for both of us to enjoy the success that’s
already here—and for us to enjoy each other.
“I
need to go check things out in back,” I tell Ginny and Luke.
“Make sure everything is running smoothly. Come on, Cal.”
I
pull on his hand. He dutifully follows me through the crowd of
laughing, well-fed Floridians. As we pass them, I give Evie and her
boyfriend Finn a little wave. But mostly, I’m focused on one
thing, the prize ahead.
“Where
are we going?” Cal asks, when we don’t head into the
kitchen at all but instead toward one of the stock rooms in back.
“I
have a surprise for you,” I tell him.
We
slip into the stockroom. I close and lock the door behind me. Cal’s
watching me, those green eyes lively and curious. In a single, smooth
movement, I slip off my dress. The only thing I’m wearing
underneath is a black lace thong. Cal starts undoing the buttons of
his shirt, working swiftly. But then his hands freeze as I reach over
to one of the shelves and grab something.
It’s
long and silver and heavy in my hands. Cal’s eyebrows lift.
“My
old friend,” he says. He could laugh, but he doesn’t. I
can see the line of his cock through his pale linen pants.
I
press the tool into his waiting hands. It’s an icing injector.
I step close to him, and all the chaos of the world beyond fades
away.
“For
old time’s sake, right, Cupcake Casanova?”
Cal
leans down and kisses me, long and hungry.
“Anytime,”
he replies, “Maybe Fondant.”
The End
Thank you so much for reading! I’d love to connect with you online:
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If you liked Jules and Cal’s story, check out my first novel,
SPARKS FLY
about
Ginny and Luke!
If you like sexy guys wearing flannel, read on for an
excerpt of Lila Munroe’s
RUGGED
.
by Lila Munroe
Laurel
Young needs a plan, and fast. After her reality TV boss has a major
meltdown, not-so-funemployment seems inevitable--unless she can pitch
the idea of a lifetime. When she sees Flint McKay's audition tape -
flanneled, handsome as hell, and building a house with his own two
hands - she knows she's found her secret weapon. The women of America
are going to love him, especially if she can convince him to try
building without the flannel shirt.
Only problem is, Flint
didn’t make that tape - and he has zero interest in trading the
wilds of Western Massachussetts for the bright lights of Hollywood.
But Laurel isn’t the kind of girl to take no for an answer.
Soon, she's knee-deep in rustic charm, and getting plenty of hands-on
experience. And it turns out, this city girl and country guy may have
a few things in common after all, like crazy hot chemistry, a wild
side, and a weakness for good whiskey...