Cupid's Cupcake

by Ivy Sinclair

  “This is the same Danny who broke up with her and inspired this whole business?”

  “One and the same,” Tom said. “At least she’s finally getting something good out of that deal. She pretty much gave up after that and decided that she wasn’t ever going to be lucky in love.”

  “She’s too young for that kind of prediction,” Brian said.

  “Belle’s an old soul,” Tom said. He raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “Don’t get me wrong. She’s my wife’s best friend and I’ve known her for years. But luck consistently passes Belle by. At least, it did until you came along.”

  Brian stiffened in his chair. Had he been overtly obvious in his interest? “That’s a high compliment. It’s always good to know that your work helps others.”

  “That story was pretty intense,” Tom said. He didn’t look at Brian now. “Lots of flowery words and stuff. It’s pretty obvious you’re a fan.”

  Brian decided to change the subject. “So Belle told me that you and your wife were the first ones to wind up engaged after sampling one of her cupcakes. Can you tell me a little bit about that?”

  “I was stunned,” Tiffany said, interrupting her husband. She put her arms around his shoulders and leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “We always knew that we would get married, but after splitting that cupcake, he dropped down to his knee and proposed. It was the sweetest gesture ever.”

  “I’m not a sentimental guy,” Tom said.

  No kidding, Brian thought, but he kept his face smooth.

  “But I don’t know. I watched the way that Tiff’s eyes lit up when that first bite hit her tongue, and it was like she started radiating this glow from inside. In that moment, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I couldn’t stand the idea that she wouldn’t be mine forever. I was going to propose right after graduation, but I couldn’t wait. So I just did it.” Tom looked as surprised at his speech as everyone else in the room. He shifted uncomfortably when he realized that all eyes were on him.

  “You never told me that,” Tiffany said. “You are a big softie after all.” She giggled when Tom pulled her down into his lap and kissed her thoroughly.

  Brian grinned, and his eyes met Belle’s. She shrugged and went back to her cupcakes. Brian stood and made his way over to her, leaving Tom and Tiffany to their own devices. “That’s quite a testimonial. Be sure to put that on your website.”

  “It’s nothing but the general mood around the day,” Belle said. “Everyone feels a bit more squishy than normal.”

  Brian made a gesture as if he was taking notes. “Squishy? Is that a technical term? Can I quote you on that?”

  “Quit it,” she laughed, hitting his arm with a soft slug. “Oops. Sorry.” She pointed at the swath of flour that she left behind. “I keep forgetting I’m covered in that stuff.”

  “It’s okay,” Brian said. “So any plans for the big day?” It was the question that hadn’t left his head since the moment he ate her cupcake. He couldn’t explain it and didn’t even know if he wanted to.

  “I’m planning to sleep through it,” she said. She was focused on her decorating again. “After making a thousand cupcakes and ensuring that each one gets delivered on-time, and in perfect condition, I’m going to be exhausted. The last few weeks have been a whirlwind.”

  “Oh, I just figured you’d spend the day with your Valentine,” Brian said. He moved another cupcake across the counter to her as she finished on the one in front of her.

  Belle snorted. “Just because I sell something for the holiday doesn’t mean I believe it or would even care to celebrate it.”

  “See, I still don’t get that. You obviously put such care and affection into your product, but yet you say that you are anything but a romantic. It’s an interesting wrinkle about you.”

  “It’s called finally getting off my butt to make something of myself,” Belle said, refusing to take his bait. She looked up at him curiously. “What are you doing for Valentine’s Day?”

  “Working,” he said automatically. It was an excuse that served him well over the years. “I have one of those jobs that is twenty-four seven. No time for romance this year.”

  “That’s kind of sad,” she said.

  “No less than a real life Cupid sleeping through her own holiday,” he replied.

  “Hey!” Tom yelled from the dining room. “I’m not going to do all these labels by myself.”

  “Guess I’d better go make myself useful,” Brian said.

  “A cupcake maker’s work is never done,” Belle said with a small smile.

  Brian nodded and returned to his assigned task.

  Hours later, Belle waved to Brian as they both made their ways to their cars.

  “Thanks again for the help,” she called out to him.

  “I’ll see you next year,” he said. He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but then changed his mind. He waved at her with a small grin and then got into his car. Belle watched him drive away feeling slightly disappointed.

  Belle drove home, exhausted but feeling slightly invigorated. She couldn’t be certain, but after catching Brian watching her several times throughout the day, she thought that he may be interested in more than just a follow-up story. He fit in easily with her friends, and although they churned out an impressive number of cupcakes, they managed to have fun too. It had been a memorable day, probably the best in recent memory. And what made it extra special for Belle was that Brian Draper was part of it.

  She was up early the next morning, tracking each and every shipment as her cupcakes made their way into the eager hands of her waiting customers. Already several comments had been posted to her website praising how scrumptious Cupid’s Cupcake was, and that they couldn’t wait until next year when they would order it again.

  Belle was satisfied. Her life was finally on track. She was on the cusp of the biggest thing to ever happen to her. Oddly, the thought wasn’t as comforting as she expected it to be. She made a cup of coffee and sat down on the couch with a book that she had been meaning to read for ages. It was the only way she could think of to keep her fingers from constantly refreshing her computer screen.

  By mid-afternoon, she felt restless. So when her buzzer rang, she was taken totally by surprise.

  She made her way over to speaker next to her door. “Hello?”

  “It’s Brian Draper. Got a minute?”

  Belle took a step back from the speaker. Brian Draper was at her door. On Valentine’s Day. She felt a flutter of excitement. Then the buzzer rang again, and she realized that she had forgotten to reply.

  “You still there?” Brian’s voice sounded uncertain.

  “Uh, sure, I have a minute,” Belle said.

  “I was afraid you dropped the phone or something again.”

  Belle flushed remembering the start of their first conversation. “Can you give me like two minutes? I’m in apartment 403.” Then she hit the button to unlock the front door.

  Like a Tasmanian devil, Belle flew through the apartment trying to pick up everything from the floor. She threw all of it onto the floor of her bedroom and quickly changed into a t-shirt and jeans since she hadn’t bothered changing out of her pajamas that morning. She heard the knock on her door just as she came back out into the hallway.

  Heart pounding in her chest, she took a deep breath and opened the door. Brian leaned against the doorway with a sly grin on his face. He held up a familiar pink box. “Happy Valentine’s Day. I thought we’d try out one of these fantastic cupcakes together.”

  Belle laughed. “Aren’t you afraid that you’ll end up proposing to me or something? I mean, that is the myth after all.”

  Brian shrugged. “How about we start with a date? Marriage can always come later.”

  Belle couldn’t believe it. This smart, gorgeous man wanted to date her. “Okay. When?”

  Brian’s eyebrows shot up. “When? How about right now?”

  Belle didn’t even hesitate. “You sure about this? I
’m kind of a mess.”

  “I am looking at a smart, beautiful woman who is embarking on her dream. I feel honored to have been a small part of that. I have never been more certain that is exactly kind of woman I would like to take out on a date.”

  She clasped her hands together and grinned. “Well in that case, you’d better get in here before we miss it.”

  As he stepped through the door, he put his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. Then his head came down, and he kissed her softly. Belle sighed as she leaned against him.

  “I plan to do that a lot, by the way,” he said.

  “It is Valentine’s Day,” she said with a smile.

  Belle closed the door behind him. Now it felt like everything in her life had fallen into place. It was only fitting that Brian Draper would be her Valentine.

  ###

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  His eyes were blue. That kind of stormy blue that could blaze a trail right into your soul and there would be nothing you could do about it. Mel realized that she had been caught staring as that sentiment crossed her mind. She immediately dropped her eyes from his and made her arm continue its swirling motion wiping off the tabletop of the booth in front of her.

  It was a Monday afternoon, the worst possible shift to work at the Rumbling Rock Bar and Grill. Mel hated Mondays. The hours stretched into an endless ocean, and she frequently felt as if she was bobbing along in a boat with no engine. But she was the newest waitress on staff, and until she built up her tenure, she was stuck with the shifts that nobody else wanted. When she arrived for her shift thirty minutes ago though, the man sitting at the bar had drawn her attention. The normally abysmal shift suddenly felt much more palatable with that kind of scenery.

  Mel cut a glance back across the room, but the man's gaze had returned to the highball glass in front of him. Occasionally he would pick it up, swirl it around a few times, and then return it to the bar without pulling it to his lips. Even if he wasn’t devastatingly gorgeous, he was the only patron at the bar, so it was hard not to look at him. His long legs planted firmly on the floor in front of the stool told her that he was taller than average, and his trim waist paired with a set of broad shoulders told her that he regularly saw the inside of the gym. His hair was so black that it shone even under the meager light of the hanging bar lights above his head. There was a five o'clock shadow across his cheeks, but that was the only part of his appearance that looked the slightest bit casual. The dark blue pin-stripe suit he wore ensured that he looked utterly out of place at the Rumbling Rock, but the man didn't seem to care.

  She wondered what could have possibly drawn the man to her dive bar on the edge of Spring City. There was nothing pretentious or glamorous about the bar. It was far from the trendy bars and restaurants downtown that catered to the people who cared about such things. Mel knew about that better than most. One day, not all that long ago, she had been one of those people. That had been before her life fell apart. That had been the life that she left behind without a second glance over six months ago.

  Perhaps that was what fascinated her about this man. He was a real-life, slightly painful reminder of what she had given up, and seeing him there dredged up memories of things that were better left in the past. She was alternately intrigued and annoyed with him. Of course, he sat there, nursing his drink, completely oblivious to the rush of emotions his presence evoked inside of her.

  Now that she knew what color his eyes were though, she thought that she could forget that he was there. Mel’s responsibility was the tables in the dining area while the bartender, Max, kept an eye anyone who sat at the bar. It was just the two of them on Monday afternoons, and Mel was pretty certain that Max would have preferred to be anywhere else than stuck with her inside the dingy bar. The feeling was mutual.

  The creak of the heavy, wooden front door brought the welcome distraction she had been waiting for: customers. She was frustrated to see that they weren't just any customers though; Barry and Bud Parker were regulars and the sight of them made her stomach clench uncomfortably. Barry and Bud were twins but couldn't have looked more different in appearance. Barry was tall and thin, his plain boyish face belying the fact that he must be at least forty years old. Bud was short and carried a wide girth around his belt line. His face was tight and seemed dressed in a permanent scowl.

  What they had in common was that they were rude, egotistical, and lousy tippers.

  Mel said a silent prayer hoping they'd make their way to the bar and then Max could deal with them, but the two men sidled right past it. The brothers were talking animatedly about some “jackass” at a job site, but that didn't stop Bud from giving her a lewd wink as he shoved his stout body into one side of a booth on the far side of the dining room.

  Her feet dragged as she approached the table. Barry stopped talking as his eyes lit on her face. "Well, hello there Mel! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?” Barry never had a better pick-up line than stupid clichés. Mel thought that he was generally harmless outside of his lame verbal attempts to attract her attention, but she wasn’t willing to bet on that assumption.

  "Barry, Bud," she said in a crisp greeting as she pulled out her order pad. "Usual?" She wanted to get away from them as quickly as possible.

  "We're celebrating today, Mel. Bring us a pitcher to start," Bud said.

  Mel groaned inside. If the brothers were starting to drink already, that meant they'd be there all afternoon. When Bud got drunk, his hands started to wander, and Mel didn't think that she'd be able to stop herself from decking him if he "accidentally" grabbed her ass one more time. She gave serious consideration to telling Max that she felt sick and needed to go home.

  "Comin' right up," she said instead as she turned on her heel.

  The conversation resumed behind her. She took her time making her way to the bar, straightening salt and pepper shakers and napkin bins on several on the tables. All too soon she reached the waitress station at the end of the bar next to the door that led into the kitchen. She intended to busy herself with as many small, invisible tasks as possible for the next few hours that kept her out of reach of Bud Parker.

  "A pitcher of Light," she said to Max, who leaned nonchalantly against the bar reading a car magazine. The biggest difference that she could see between her and Max was that Max would do everything he could not to do a lick of work during his shift. She preferred to be busy. It helped keep her thoughts from wandering into unwanted places.

  Max grunted in reply and moved to the beer tap. As Mel started to enter the order into the POS system, she saw that the blue-eyed man, who sat at the opposite end of the bar, now appeared to be studying her. Mel tried to pretend she didn't notice. She was used to men checking her out, but then her mind blanked on the entry code for a pitcher of beer. She stood there, feeling the weight of the man's stare, before deciding to give into a bit of spontaneity. She turned and met his eyes full-on. Although her life had been turned upside down, she was still the same person, and old Mel wouldn't shrink under an attractive man's gaze. The old Mel would have eaten him for dinner.

  She had to give him credit. Caught staring, he didn't even flinch the way that she had done when he caught her earlier. If anything, she sensed a kind of curiosity there. Mel decided to try an experiment. She raised her hand, pulled her lips into a seductive grin, and fluttered her fingers at him. The man's eyebrows shot up and he frowned before dropping his eyes. Mel was left feeling embarrassed and slightly mortified.

  "Here," Max's looming form blocked her line of sight to the man at the end of the bar as he set a pitcher of foamy beer in front of her. "You tell those two that if they get loud, I'm kicking them out."

  "Sure, sure," Mel said, rolling her eyes. "You always say that. Thing is, you never actually do it."

  "This time I mean it," Max said.

  Mel took the pitcher and sighed as she put in on a tray wi
th two beer mugs. Max talked a big game, but he wasn't a fighter regardless of his hulking form. Plus that kind of thing would require him to do something above and beyond his normal duties, and Max put in nothing but the minimal effort.

  Mel took her time walking back to the booth, and set the tray down on the edge. She quickly slid the pitcher and glasses off of it. She knew that Bud was staring at her cleavage. The required uniform at the Rumbling Rock was a tight, nearly transparent low cut t-shirt. She straightened and took a step back. That extra few inches ensured she was out of Bud's reach, which made her glad as she saw the gleam of lust in his eyes. He hadn't taken them off of her chest. He slowly licked his lips, and Mel felt like a wave of disgust.

  "Anything else?" she said.

  "Just keep 'em comin'," Bud said. "Like I said, we're celebrating. You should grab a glass and join us, Mel. My treat."

  I'd rather roast in Hell, she thought. "I'm working, Bud."

  Bud looked around the empty room. "Looks to me like you have some free time to fit us in."

  Mel ignored his comment and walked away. She had no desire to be drawn into further discussion with either Parker brother. That was when she saw that the blue-eyed man at the bar watching her again. Mel stormed into the back room to get a broom, unwilling to embarrass herself any further. The floor that she swept twenty minutes ago no doubt needed to be swept again.

  Get the rest of Mel's story by clicking HERE.

  Note from the Author

  Thank you so much for taking the time to read Belle’s story! If you enjoyed Cupid’s Cupcake, please consider leaving an Amazon review and sharing your thoughts. I'd also love to hear what you liked (and what you didn't!) if you'd like to drop me a line at authorsinclair@gmail.com. As always, thank you for your support.

  About Ivy Sinclair

  Ivy Sinclair cut her romance teeth on classics like Gone With the Wind, Casablanca, An Affair to Remember, and Sabrina. She is a firm believer in a happily ever after ending, and that there is no emotion quite like laughter through tears. But sometimes the sweetness of love needs to be tempered with some naughty steaminess, and that’s what readers can expect to find in Ivy’s stories. Ivy is a life-long Midwesterner who enjoys cozying up to the fire with her husband and a glass of wine during the long winter nights.