by Olivia Burke
She hustled him as fast as she could to Starla’s tattoo shop only five blocks away, in the opposite direction of LUSH. Against her better judgment, she didn’t let go of his hand even after they started walking. She peeked up at Tom, pleased to see an excited little smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“I assume if you’ve been thinking about it for years, you already know at least one you want,” Aubrey said.
“Yeah, there are several I want, but the first one I’ve wanted since I was a teenager.”
“Don’t leave me hanging,” Aubrey said with a little squeal. “What is it?”
“Chef’s knife, on my forearm,” he said, shrugging a little. “I know it’s not necessarily unique, but I’ve been cooking since I was fifteen. A chef’s knife, it’s a part of me now, like an extension of my own dominant hand.”
“I think it’s perfect,” Aubrey said, beaming. With the hand of her tattooed arm still in his, she used her free hand to point to a small silver canister etched into her skin. “I got this one about a year after I started working at LUSH.”
“I remember,” Tom said, gazing at it. “You came in a couple days later and took a photo with a shaker in your hand next to it.”
His eyes came up to meet hers and she swallowed hard. Since when did Tom remember little things like that about her? Correction: since when has any man remembered that stuff about me? How did he do that–make her feel special, as if she mattered more than anything to him?
He’s your fake boyfriend. The little voice in her hand reprimanded her again, shaking her from her reverie. Luckily, they arrived at her friend’s tattoo parlor, a cute little shop decorated with fairy lights and plenty of bright colors.
Aubrey introduced them, hugging Starla. Her petite friend wore orange streaks in her brunette hair this time; she had a circular barbell in her septum piercing, and Aubrey voiced her approval over a pretty new star tattoo that decorated Starla’s shoulder blade.
“Where’ve you been hiding this cutie, Aubs?” Starla asked, waggling her pierced eyebrows.
“Nowhere, he just works all the time,” Aubrey replied smoothly. “He’s the chef at LUSH.”
“Wow,” Starla said, clearly impressed. “Those cherry vanilla fortune cookies you made a couple months ago were like, my absolute favorite thing in the world. Aubrey, call me next time they’re on the menu and I’m gonna come in just for those.”
Tom blushed to the tips of his ears, but grinned with pride. “Thanks, those were kind of an ‘on-a-whim’ thing, but they turned out really well.”
“No kidding, ‘cause I’m still dreaming about them.” Starla winked at him. “Make me a batch of those and your next tattoo is on the house.”
Aubrey was surprised at the tiniest flare of jealousy at how Starla flirted with him, as if she knew they weren’t actually together. She knew Starla, meaning she knew it was harmless, but it didn’t stop the shade of green threatening to come over her. She shoved it down and waved Tom into the chair.
“Give her all the details, I’m going to check out her books.”
Rather than give her panic eyes, as she’d expected, Tom moved to Starla without another thought, talking animatedly about the tattoo he wanted. Aubrey took a few steps away, trying not to sour his experience. She moved to Starla’s books, flipping through a few photos of her work. A few minutes went by as Starla drew and traced on his forearm, making sure he approved the size and location.
“Aubrey?”
She almost didn’t hear Tom’s small, cracked whisper. When she turned, she realized Tom had seen the needle. All the blood drained from his face, his freckles popping against his white skin.
Aubrey quickly went over and sat on the other side, offering him a grin. “It’s okay, Tommy. You’re okay.”
“Maybe this was a stupid idea,” he grunted.
“Nope, it was a great idea, specifically because it was mine,” she corrected. She used both hands to grab his free one, leaning over until her face was inches from his. “It’s just the anticipation.”
His eyes dropped to her lips, and for a second, she forgot all about Starla and the tattoo gun. The anticipation, she now realized, was waiting for him to kiss her.
Starla turned the gun on and it hummed loudly, breaking the moment when Tom turned to give it wide eyes again. Aubrey squeezed his hand harder.
“Hey, look at me,” she urged. “Once she starts, it’ll hurt, but you’ll realize it’s not that bad.”
Tom gritted his teeth and nodded. “Okay. Away with my pale virgin skin, Starla. Let’s do this.”
Starla cackled. “He’s got the right idea.”
She leaned over to focus; Aubrey knew the instant she started, because Tom’s hand squeezed around hers so tightly it almost hurt. She must’ve grimaced, because Tom loosened up and murmured an apology.
“Relax,” Aubrey said soothingly. “This will take a little while, so let’s distract you. Tell me about the one of the best meals you’ve ever had.”
Tom laughed out loud, relaxing more. “It’s like you know food is one of my favorite things to talk about.”
“Tommy, you literally talk about food all the time,” Aubrey said with a laugh. “It’s not hard to get you going.”
“Okay, well, good call, ‘cause I’m about to tell you all about my mom’s macaroni and cheese.”
Aubrey groaned with jealousy. “We’re gonna have to go get lunch after this is finished.”
Tom looked up at her, having seemingly forgotten the pain of the tattoo. “It’s a date.”
Surprise cut through Tom every time he looked down at his arm the next day. The new tattoo itched like crazy, but he couldn’t help the smile that threatened every time he saw it. It was obviously a great reminder of a fun afternoon with Aubrey, but he’d also wanted one for so long that he couldn’t believe he’d finally gotten it.
Tom chuckled at the memory of the look on Seth’s face when he’d seen it. Tom walked in the front door, the tattoo still covered up, and Seth’s eyebrows had nearly shot up into his hairline. He’d known Tom always wanted it, but had always teased Tom about being too chicken to go through with it.
Just before Tom and Seth headed to work for the evening, Tom’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, surprised to see the name.
“Hey, Pop.”
“Hello, Thomas.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yes, of course. I thought it over and, in case I can’t make the reception, I thought I’d make time to come down for dinner. It’s been a while since we’ve seen one another and I’d like to remedy that.”
“Oh, I may need to check with Daniel about my schedule–”
“Nonsense, you’re the head chef. Don’t ‘check with him,’ tell him you need the evening off. Besides, you’ll still be there if for some reason thing went awry.”
Tom grew wary. “How’s that?”
“I thought we could have dinner at your restaurant.”
“At LUSH?” Tom asked, surprised. “I obviously won’t be able to cook for you.”
“That’s all right,” Mr. Flanagan said. “So if you could make a reservation for two, tomorrow evening, say at seven o’clock?”
Tom thought fast; if he had to get it on Aubrey’s family activities, it was only fair she reciprocated. It was basically the only way he’d get through the dinner without wanting to rip his hair out, anyway.
“Actually, I’ll make it for three. There’s someone I’d like you to meet while you’re here,” Tom said.
“Oh? Who’s that?”
Tom couldn’t help but puff up a little with pride. “My girlfriend, Aubrey.”
“Girlfriend?” His father hummed in disapproval. “Thomas, you’re aiming for the height of your career. How can you possibly have time for a girlfriend?”
Tom’s heart sank a little. “She’s funny and easygoing and likes to be with me. It’s not hard to make time for her, Pop.”
His father grumbled. “You need to make time for
your work.”
“I’ve been working since I was thirteen,” Tom shot back. “You just have to meet her, you’ll love her.”
“What does she do?”
“She’s the bartender at my restaurant.”
“You’re dating the wait staff?” The full force of his father’s disapproval came across the phone. Seth’s eyebrows shot up.
Tom placed a hand over his eyes in exasperation. “I’m dating an incredible woman who also happens to the best bartender in Crystal Springs.”
“Says who?”
“Me, for one, but also all the same people who decided I was also the best chef.”
That seemed to placate his father slightly, much to Tom’s annoyance. “Well, I suppose make the reservation for three, then. I look forward to meeting her.”
That eased the knot in Tom’s stomach, even though he knew there was no way that would be the end of his dad’s griping. All the same, they ended the call and Tom glared at Seth.
“What?”
“This is your fault, man,” Tom told him.
Seth scoffed. “How do you figure?”
“You wanted me to call him, to ‘reconnect.’ Now he’s coming down for a visit in case he can’t make it to the awards thing.”
“That’s a good thing,” Seth exclaimed. “He wants to spend time with you.”
“He wants to check out my menu,” Tom muttered.
Seth at least had the good grace to grimace. Nothing made Tom grumpier than his father’s attempts to tweak his menu.
“He hasn’t been there since your first year there,” Seth offered. “Maybe he won’t have any critiques now that you’ve got a few more years under your belt.”
Tom snorted. “Right, and maybe Aubrey has suddenly decided she’s madly in love with me and wants to make our fake relationship real.”
Seth put up his hands in defeat, although Tom knew Seth wanted to retort at the line. Something about how it was Tom’s choice to participate, or he’d told Tom not to go through with it. It only made Tom’s mood worse and Seth wisely kept his mouth shut on their walk to work.
Aubrey’s kitchen looked as if a flour bag had exploded. In her case, it kinda had. She stood at her butcher block, rereading the recipe for the third time and wondering where she’d gone wrong. The first batch of cupcakes sank in the middle, appearing more like tiny, half-baked cups. The edges burned, but the raw dough in the middle made her toss out the entirety to attempt a second batch.
Tom’s voice called from somewhere near the front of the house. “Hello?”
Aubrey jumped. “In the kitchen.”
Footsteps sounded through the hallway, followed by Tom’s head popping into the doorway. “You busy?”
Aubrey gestured to the kitchen counters with a defeated huff. “Busy failing.”
The rest of Tom came into view, and she found herself looking at his chest, broad beneath his tight gray t-shirt. She ripped her eyes away, blushing as she turned around and fiddled with measuring cups to distract herself.
Tom looked around at the chaos, stunned. “Whaaat is happening in here?”
Aubrey groaned, throwing her hand back in despair. “I’m trying to make cupcakes for Chloe’s bridal shower, but it isn’t going well.”
“I’ll say.” He chuckled, entering the kitchen and swinging around to her side of the wooden table.
Leaning in only inches away from her, she smelled the clean soap on his skin. He’d shaved and combed his red hair back, and stood so close to her that, for a brief second, she wondered what it would be like to be wrapped in his arms. He brushed against her, and the hairs on her arms rose with goosebumps.
“Let me help,” Tom offered.
Get it together, Walker. Aubrey shook off her odd thoughts and blew out a breath of relief instead. “Please and thank you.”
She scooted the recipe towards him a little more, but he shook his head, shutting the cookbook and putting it aside.
“I’ve got one better in mind. It is Chloe’s bridal shower, after all.”
Using the ingredients from her kitchen, Tom recreated his recipe from memory. Aubrey supplied the hand-mixer and watched him work, occasionally helping by pouring measurements and spraying the cupcake liners in their baking tins. He somehow created twice the amount she’d been attempting, much to her relief, as she’d been worried about the quantity, in addition to quality.
She leaned against the counter to watch him work. “So what flavor are you making, exactly?”
“Snickerdoodle,” Tom replied with a little smile. His hands worked fast as he flawlessly spooned batter into the paper cups. “Amazing what you can do with cinnamon and nutmeg. Perfect for fall, and for everyone’s tastebuds in case someone doesn’t do chocolate or fruit.”
“Who the heck doesn’t like chocolate cupcakes?”
“Monsters,” Tom replied solemnly, cracking Aubrey up.
While the cupcakes baked, Tom even helped her clean up her mess. In her tiny kitchen, they worked closely together, occasionally brushing against each other. Little jolts of electricity danced across her skin every time he touched her, and she had to force herself not to purposefully do it more. Soon her dishwasher was full, but the counters were clean and utensils set aside to dry.
“Frosting?” Tom asked, searching for her supplies.
Aubrey pulled a container of vanilla frosting out of her fridge, grinning at the horrified look on his face. “You got me this far. There’s no time, man, let it go.”
“Ugh, okay, okay. Let me ask you a question,” Tom said as they waited for the timer to go off. “You know you can’t bake. I know you can’t bake. So how did you end up being Chloe’s official cupcake baker?”
“I volunteered,” Aubrey confessed. “I’m the maid of honor, you know? Mum took over the responsibility to throw her a perfect shower, and I thought making the cupcakes would be a good idea.”
“I thought showers were a maid of honor thing.”
“They are, but Chloe and Mum want every detail to be perfect,” she said, drawing out the last word dramatically.
He frowned. “Doesn’t that seem sort of, you know, like they think they can’t trust you with that kind of thing?”
Aubrey busied herself by grabbing the now-clean whisk to put back in its place on the butcher block. “Tommy, that’s happened to me my whole life. I’m used to it by now.”
“Do you want to be doing all that stuff?”
“Not really. Can you imagine how crazy Chloe and I would make each other?” Aubrey asked, making them both laugh. “I’m fine with limited duties. In fact, I should’ve ordered two dozen cupcakes from the bakery down the street and called it a day.”
He chuckled, the sound not at all unpleasant to her ears. “Maybe, but it’s sweet you’d want to go the homemade route. Means they were made with love.”
“Maybe yours,” Aubrey said, pouting a little, “but mine look like they’re made by a toddler. I feel so dumb, not being able to make cupcakes.”
“Hey, cupcakes are harder than people think,” Tom said, naturally defending his beloved sweets. “Baking is way harder than people realize. I take no issue with dessert out of a box, but it’s insulting how they think eyeballing flour and sugar can make those.”
He pointed to the cupcakes rising in her oven. They were beautiful already, plumping up in the middle. The smell of cinnamon filled her kitchen, making it feel warm and cozy on the autumn day.
“And besides,” Tom added, his voice lowering, “you are not dumb. Think of all the ingredients and measurements in your cocktails.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Aubrey said, forcing a chuckle. Realizing the whisk was still in her hand, she set it on wood beside her, next to her phone. “I don’t really think I’m all that smart. I mean, look at the rest of my family.”
Tom’s mouth fell open. “Aubrey, how could you say that? You’re so smart. Like, one of the smartest people I know.”
“You obviously haven’t spent much time with my pare
nts.” She rolled her eyes.
“I don’t need to know your parents, or compare you to anyone else,” Tom said. “You’re one of a kind, Aubrey.”
He used his thumb to wipe a bit of flour off her face, his grin fading as their eyes locked. She became very aware of his presence, of the warmth coming off him. They stood mere inches apart, her looking up at him. She briefly wondered if he’d kiss her; all she needed to do was stand on her tiptoes to meet her lips. Did she want him to kiss her?
The whisk on the butcher block rattled, startling them apart. She glanced down to see her phone buzzing–“Chloe” lit across the screen. Aubrey snatched up the phone, trying to cover up the mixture of disappointment with annoyance.
“Yes, dear sister?”
“Are you still bringing the cupcakes?” Chloe asked without greeting. “Please tell me you didn’t forget.”
“I am,” Aubrey said, smugly adding, “Tommy helped me make them.”
He snorted beside her. “‘Helped,’ right.”
Her sister, however, sounded relieved. “Terrific. Listen, tell Tom that he’s invited to the bachelor party, too, okay?”
“Oh, that’s not necessary–” Aubrey shot a look at Tom, who raised an eyebrow at her.
“Nonsense, he comes to family dinner, he hangs with the guys at the bachelor party. It sounds like we need to get to know him,” Chloe said, unable to hide the thrill in her tone. “And besides, something tells me Greg will appreciate Tom being there when you know the cousins will barge their way in.”
“I’ll ask, but he may not be able to–”
“See you in a couple hours!” Chloe chirped, making kissy noises before hanging up.
Aubrey heaved a sigh, placing her phone back down on the counter. “You’re officially invited to my future brother-in-law’s bachelor party.”
“Family dinner and a bachelor party? These events are adding up,” he said in a teasing way.
“I know, I know, and I’m sorry–”
“Actually, it makes asking my favor a little easier,” Tom said, piquing her curiosity. “Kinda why I barged in here in the first place.”