Tasty

by Bella Cruise

  “You’ll see!” Ginny calls in a singsong voice. A surprise, then? Crap. I hate surprises. But I follow them anyway. The wine has given the night a jangly, colorful edge. The tourists are out in full force, resplendent in their Hawaiian shirts and souvenir tees. Everyone is laughing, including Ginny and Luke.

  “You two seem happy,” I comment. “Does that mean you’ve finally found a venue?”

  Ginny looks thrilled that I’m asking. “Well, the last place fell through. But I have something new in mind.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “It’s an industrial space. Really different. More Luke’s tastes than mine.” She squeezes his arm. “But the lighting can’t be beat. I have to ask the owner, though. Not sure it’ll fly.”

  “I’m sure something can be worked out,” I assure her. “You’re Ginny Austen, famed television wedding planner! Hey, maybe you can offer to film a TV special there, drum up some business for them.”

  She glances at Luke. Something passes between them, unreadable. “Maybe,” she says, as we turn a corner. “Hey, I need to make a stop.”

  Suddenly, my anxiety is mounting. Because we’re heading down a very familiar street, one I biked down this very afternoon. It’s Cal’s street, or the one that used to belong to him in my mind, the home of Mecca Cakes, the place where we met and fought and flirted, where he looked at me with those traffic light eyes and I melted and became his, whether I liked it or not. Ginny is wearing a mischievous expression as she pulls me down the alley behind the now-empty store.

  “What are we doing, Gin?” I ask, in a suspicious tone. She rolls her eyes, false breezy. She’s such a terrible liar. Always was. She always wore that same stupid, gleeful expression that she’s wearing now when we got caught sneaking out by my parents in high school.

  “This is the venue I was telling you about! Wouldn’t it be perfect for our wedding? But we have to talk to the owner, first.”

  “Oh no,” I tell her. I tug on her hand, but when I try to step back, I walk straight into Luke’s broad chest.

  “March, Jules,” he teases, nodding me forward. I put my hands over my eyes. Sure, I want to see Cal again. Sometimes. Maybe. But on my own terms, far in the future, when I’m rich and successful and married to someone else. Not now, not here, not just a week and change after all that heartbreak. But I don’t have a choice in the matter. Ginny holds the heavy metal door open, and Luke nudges me through it.

  “Hello?” I call, my voice echoing through the rafters. It’s dark at first, and despite the light from the streets, it takes my eyes a moment to adjust. But then there’s a clack that reverberates through the massive space and it’s all lit up, all at once.

  “Hello, Juliette,” a familiar voice, thick with a Scottish accent, intones. I blink the light back from my eyes and take him in, every single inch, every bit of stubble, both dimples, every too-white tooth.

  It’s Cal, standing in the middle of the empty husk of Mecca Cakes.

  “Cal,” I say in surprise.

  His green eyes are burning bright. He holds out one hand and says, in a commanding tone, “Come here.”

  As much as I hate to admit it, the tension between us is bursting. He’s sexy. Downright mouth-watering.

  And that conflict just makes him all the more irresistible.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  As I cross the room, I’m dismayed. Confused. Hot with anger, too, even after all this time. Cal’s standing there, just grinning away. But I’m not smiling. In fact, I feel a little bit like I’m going to puke. This rollercoaster is almost too much for me to bear, especially with Ginny and Luke peering at us from the alleyway. I look back at them.

  “A little privacy, you two?” I ask. Ginny lets out a giggle as she pulls the door shut behind them.

  “What the hell?” I ask as soon as they’re gone. “I thought you were in New York.”

  Cal holds both hands up, a defensive posture. “I was, Juliette. But I thought that you and I had some unfinished business.”

  I can’t believe him. Unfinished business? We’ve been over this already. “I told you. I’m not going to work for you. We’re not going to merge. My store means too much to me. Rock N Roll Cakes has been my Number One for five years now, and if you think I’m going to throw it away just because you’re a good lay—”

  “Oh, you think I’m a good lay?” Cal arches an eyebrow. God, I could sock him right in the middle of that beautiful fucking face.

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” I say dryly. “The rest of you leaves something to be desired.”

  “What, is it the way I cooked for you? The way I took you out for dinner, bought you wine, let you help me teach one of my classes at Le Cordon Bleu because I respected you so much?”

  “That’s beside the point. This is about our businesses, Cal, and the way you didn’t respect mine.”

  “Well,” he says, “I respected you enough to do this.”

  He pitches something underhand at me. It’s a flash of bright metal, and I reach out and catch.

  They’re a set of keys on a metal ring. They feel heavy in my hand, substantial, important. I gaze at Cal in confusion.

  “What’s this?” I ask. He lifts his palm, indicating the space of the store around us. I don’t know what to say, not at first. The keys . . . to here? To Mecca Cakes? It makes no sense. I can’t wrap my mind around it.

  “You’re giving me your shop?” I ask uncertainly.

  Cal nods slowly. “I am,” he says. “Only it’s not mine anymore, Jules. It’s yours.”

  Shock lands in my stomach like a pile of wet dough. I stare at him, searching for words. This is weird, too weird. Things like this don’t happen to people like me. When I bought Rock N Roll Cakes, it was after months of planning and second-guessing myself. I’m not used to having the rug pulled out from under me like this. Not even for something good.

  And this . . . this could be very good. This could be spectacular. There are so many things I could do with this space. I can finally build the bakeshop I’ve always dreamed about.

  But still, I’m not sure that this is what I really want. Cal betrayed me, hard. If he could change his mind because of some anonymous investors in New York City once, why not again? Still, it sounds like a dream. A huge, beautiful shop, rent-free. All mine.

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask him. He laughs at me.

  “Because I believe in you. Enough to throw my capital behind you.”

  I grip the keys tightly between my fingers. “I don’t need your capital,” I begin, but he cuts me off.

  “Yes, you do.” Cal takes a step toward me, wraps a hand around my waist. His touch is electric. “You need me and I need you. Mecca Cakes was popular, but only because of my name. The shop was straight from New York. It didn’t fit here. My customers kept saying how they felt like they were in a big city. That’s not what’s right for this place. Even my investors said I needed more local flavor.”

  “Local flavor,” I repeat a little numbly. “Like Red Velvet?”

  “Like a Pink Surprise.” He pulls me closer to him so I’m flush against him. “The store needs your touch, Juliette. Imagine what you could do here with a great man behind you.”

  “A great man?” I smile faintly, jangling the keys in my hand. It’s easier to tease him than to think about what this all means. “Do you mean you?”

  “Well, I don’t mean Anthony Bourdain,” he says.

  For the first time in my life, I’m well and truly speechless. I don’t know how to wrap my mind around what’s just happened. This is an end to all my struggles, all my pain and panic. And it’s come at the hands of Cal, who is asking nothing in return.

  Okay, maybe not nothing. He wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t love me, still. There might be something that I owe him, but it’s something that I’m all-too-willing to give.

  I look into Cal’s eyes. I almost can’t believe he’s here. I’ve dreamed about his return, but it was nothing like this. He’s solid, pre
sent, real. He smells like Tahitian vanilla. I slide my arms along the broad expanse of his chest, hooking my hands behind his neck. He presses his body against mine. And I feel torn two ways:

  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.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  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 ch
ange. 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.