Sugar Rush
Leigh Ellwood
Baker Neve Rush is surprised to receive social media attention, both the good and bad varieties, after agreeing to bake a wedding cake for a lesbian couple. She cares about people’s tastes in pastries, not sexual partners. The newfound fame has gained her new customers—as well as one resurfaced ex. Gianna stirs up memories Neve would rather forget, and an impromptu flirtation with a client might just do the trick.
Judy Goldsmith finds Neve’s open-mindedness refreshing and attractive, and isn’t above a little scheming to get to know her better. As Neve and Judy satisfy each other’s sweet tooth in the most pleasurable ways possible, feelings begin to blossom. But their deepening attraction may not survive a little white lie…and an even bigger, darker secret.
A Romantica® GLBT erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Sugar Rush
Leigh Ellwood
Chapter One
“Neve, I think you want to get out front, quick.”
Neve Rush finished drying off a large jellyroll pan, which she placed on its rack with the others. Standing in the far corner of her bakery kitchen, she leaned back to see past her assistant Terri through the open doorway that led to the sales floor. She spied only a sliver of the checkerboard floor and a bright yellow table, so any activity Terri noticed had to be happening out of sight, near the register.
The closer she moved toward the front of the store, the clearer she heard somebody sobbing softly in her bakery. “Oh my goodness,” she muttered, not necessarily to Terri. “What’s going on out there?”
“It just started,” Terri hissed as she passed. “I think Corky did it.”
Neve groaned. Terri hadn’t approved of her hiring Corky, citing the young woman’s flighty attitude and inexperience, but Neve doubted the girl would willingly reduce a person to tears with a cruel remark. “I’ll have a look,” she said, unconvinced of Corky’s guilt.
Neve slipped behind the sales counter to find Corky by the register, wringing her hands and looking worriedly at their customers—two older women, each sporting short hair of varying gray and silver hues, both dressed for the frigid December morning. The shorter of the duo leaned into her companion, eyes tightly shut and heaving with audible sobs.
“Something I can do here?” Neve asked the other one, who offered a smile when they made eye contact. Neve didn’t want to accuse anybody of anything just yet. Corky looked ready to burst into tears herself.
The taller of the pair, the one cradling the sniffling woman, held up a hand to dismiss Neve’s concerns. “It’s okay, we’re fine,” she said. “Maggie just got a bit overwhelmed, is all. It’s been a hell of a week for both of us.”
“Has it? I hope it’s nothing serious,” Neve replied, and patted Corky on the shoulder in an attempt to soothe the girl’s apprehension. She didn’t know why the women had come into the shop, and from the look of the one crying, her first thought drifted to a death or illness. Sometimes people came to Sugar Rush to buy baked goods for wakes.
But the crying woman took a deep breath then beamed at her with shining eyes. Perhaps somebody hadn’t passed away.
“We were up all night, celebrating,” the taller woman explained. “As soon as it was announced that the ban was lifted, we started making plans.” The woman twined her fingers with Maggie’s and kissed her knuckles.
Of course! Neve saw it on the late news, too. The state had declared the ban on same-sex marriage unconstitutional. “Congratulations,” she told the couple, and nudged Corky for a smile. “You must be so excited!”
“Yes, it’s finally going to happen.” The woman holding Maggie turned her hand to reveal a shining solitaire diamond. “We came in to inquire about ordering a cake for the wedding, and I think the realization just caught up with her.”
Maggie finally stood tall on her own, wiping away tears. “I’m sorry, I’m a giddy old fool,” she said, her voice cracking. “Helen said ‘wedding cake’, and it dawned on me that I’m getting married! Finally! Can you believe it?”
Tears dried, replaced by Maggie’s radiant smile, which warmed Neve’s heart. She had cheered in her home when the announcement was made official, but the financial implications weren’t clear then. Neve’s bakery, Sugar Rush, had a fair number of gay and lesbian customers, to be certain, but these two ladies were the first to inquire about an actual wedding cake—Neve envisioned preparing multiple tiers, icing roses and two brides on top. This called for something special.
“Ladies, you’re in luck. I happen to bake some damn good wedding cakes.” She gestured to the yellow table. “Step into my office.”
As Maggie and Helen made themselves comfortable, Corky leaned close to her ear. “Neve, I swear, I didn’t say anything to upset them! They asked about a wedding cake, and I said sure and asked what they had in mind. That’s all.”
“That’s all they needed to hear, Corky. You’re fine,” Neve said, smiling at the young girl to assure her. “Go see if they’ll take coffee. I need to get out the books.”
Corky nodded and saw to their customers’ needs while Neve ducked back into the kitchen for the photo albums of their best cake work. Terri had obviously been listening to the exchange—she turned rapidly back to the cookie dough she was scooping onto a large, greased sheet.
“Everything okay?” Terri tried to sound nonchalant and Neve couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s nosy nature.
Neve opened a high cabinet and pulled out two albums. “Right as rain, Lady of Spain,” she said. The impromptu rhymes with which she often addressed people never failed to encourage smiles. “I have a feeling business is going to pick up soon.”
Terri turned from the cookies and crooked her head toward the couple at the table. “For the better.”
“Definitely.”
* * * * *
After half an hour of sampling cupcakes as samples of available flavors, and oohing and aahing over the more popular designs, Maggie and Helen finally agreed on a four-tier red velvet tower with white fondant, dark-red flowers and red trim. Both women left smiling and toting small boxes of treats for an after-dinner celebration.
“Now we’re off to get our something borrowed and something blue,” Maggie said as the Sugar Rush crew waved goodbye.
Neve quietly cleared away the plates and mugs, looking up when Corky lingered expectantly by the dessert case. “What’s up, buttercup?” she asked.
Corky held up her smartphone. “While you were in the back, I took a picture of those ladies. I thought it would be cool to, like, put it on our Facebook page since they’re the first same-sex couple to come in for a wedding cake. They said it was okay,” she quickly added.
“Oh. Well, if they don’t mind, I don’t.” Neve shrugged and left Corky to handle it. Neve couldn’t tweet or e-mail pictures from her phone to save her life, so she left all manner of internet and social media dealings related to business to her younger employee. It seemed to work well—Corky had explained to her once that they had over a thousand Twitter followers. Neve couldn’t decide if that was a good number for a small bakery. If only they’d all come in every morning and buy something to eat.
As the rest of the workday wore on, though, Neve gave no further thought to Twitter or Facebook or the internet in general. Customers arrived and left in a steady stream, buying cookies by the dozen and cupcakes, whoopie pies and frosted cake pops. When Terri left to make the final bank deposit for the day, they had only one rack of sweets left to sell in the dessert case.
Neve turned the sign to Closed spot on five o’clock and smiled at Corky. “I’d call this a banner day,” she said. “We haven’t been this busy in weeks. Hope the mojo lasts.”
Corky quirked up one side of her mouth in a lopsided smile. Neve thought the
expression odd, since Corky usually exhibited more enthusiasm at work. “What’s wrong now?” she asked.
“I didn’t how to tell you this,” Corky began, pulling out her phone. “It’s probably better to just show you so you know what’s going on.” Corky handed her the phone, and Neve held it close to her face to better see the small text of Facebook’s mobile interface. Underneath the photo of Maggie and Helen, Corky had written on behalf of Sugar Rush their congratulations to the couple, the first such ladies to come to the bakery for a wedding cake.
Neve’s heart sank at the general consensus to their post.
Really, Neve? Baking cakes for a couple of old dykes?
Don’t you people read the Bible? This is wrong! God will punish you for this.
Well, you gals just lost a customer.
On it went as Neve scrolled down the screen. Commentators jeered the couple and badgered Neve for pandering to “the queers” for their business. She could have read more, but her blood boiled and her eyes nearly crossed to read the print. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, handing the phone back to Corky. “It’s one damn cake. You’d think we were catering Hitler’s birthday.”
Corky looked absolutely ashamed, as though taking the brunt of the backlash. “Should I take down the photo?”
“No. What a bunch of assholes, don’t even have the nerve to tell me to my face what they think.” Neve didn’t mean to sound so annoyed. When she noticed Corky back up a few steps, she softened her voice. “Corky, I’m not mad at you. The picture stays up. If a few people can’t handle us baking cakes for customers they don’t even know, it’s their problem, not ours. I wouldn’t even try to win people like that back into my store—I don’t want their business.”
Corky didn’t appear comforted. “What if people boycott the shop?” Panic filled the young woman’s voice. Neve could only imagine the apocalyptic images the girl conjured in her mind—torches and pitchforks and a heavy-hearted Neve setting up a For Lease sign in the window. She hoped her regular customers were better than that.
She believed everybody had a right to an opinion, and people didn’t have to buy her baked goods for whatever reason they chose. She didn’t, however, like people dictating how she should operate her business and whom she should serve.
“Has anybody called the store to threaten us?” she asked. “Or to cancel an order?”
Corky shook her head.
Neve gestured to the storefront window. “I don’t see any brick holes or anybody charging the building toting a baseball bat, either. This will pass. People will find something else to bitch about in due time. Now,” she smiled and clapped her hands together, “it’s quitting time.”
“You’re not worried somebody will vandalize the place after we’re gone?”
“Seems like a cowardly thing to do,” Neve said, then winked at her employee. “Anyway, I have enough insurance to cover it. Maybe we can upgrade the stove.” She paused and, on seeing Corky’s eyes bulge out, “It was a joke! Relax, Jax.” She waved the girl to the back. “C’mon, let’s get those dishes done.”
* * * * *
Bone tired from a long day of baking, Neve dumped her coat and purse on the chair closest to her apartment entrance. She stepped out of her clogs and flexed her toes, digging into the shag carpet for a few seconds as she contemplated dinner. Cooking for hours normally wiped away her appetite, and tonight proved no exception. Eventually, she decided, she’d raid the pantry for a bowl of cereal.
She collapsed into her recliner, kicked up the footrest and leaned back. With her laptop on her thighs and a half-empty bottle of water from last night on the table next to her, she settled in to update her baking and event schedule. She chuckled a bit to herself as she sipped the tepid liquid, thinking one day she ought to put some of her culinary training to good use and cook a gourmet meal. She might consider it if she wanted to eat something besides cereal, or if she had anybody at home to appreciate the effort. Living alone gave her peace, and the hours invested in her bakery left little time for a social life. It did get lonely, though.
She finished her paperwork and lowered the laptop screen to enjoy the rest of her evening with her favorite show, but after a moment’s thought, lifted the screen again and called up her Facebook account.
Corky had made her an administrator of the Sugar Rush page, though Neve rarely contributed to it. Corky did a good enough job posting the daily specials and uploading photos, and with one person managing the page, Neve felt it kept a consistent voice. She read through more comments from customers and others, relieved to see some people had voiced their support for Maggie and Helen. She did notice, too, the number of page fans had increased since she and Corky last saw it.
“Nice,” she murmured, scrolling the page. “Let’s hope y’all didn’t like the page just so you could complain on it.”
A lone remark in the right column, independent of the thread of comments underneath the picture, read, So, are you a gay-friendly establishment now?
The words irked Neve. She hated labels—well, save for the ones she used to identify her cupcakes. She called up the chat box within the site to survey her online friends and saw no green light to indicate Corky was surfing Facebook at the moment. Neve didn’t usually respond to fan questions, but she didn’t want to leave this one hanging there unanswered.
She flexed her fingers, and soon they flew over the keyboard, typing the words as quickly as she could think them.
Hi everybody, and thank you for the question. This is somewhat difficult to answer, because technically we’ve always been “gay-friendly”, as you put it. We are not unfriendly to anybody! We are gay-friendly, straight-friendly, male-friendly, female-friendly, youth-friendly and senior-friendly. We are friendly to Christians, Jews, other religious, atheists, agnostics, Southerners, Northerners, people of all races and—yes—even Virginia Tech fans, despite the fact that I’m a UVA grad and die-hard Cavalier.
So to answer the question, we are people-friendly. Also dog-friendly—we do sell dog treats, too!
Neve took a deep breath and observed what a friend called the Ten Second Rule—she counted slowly to ten before deciding the post looked fine and not reactionary, then clicked to post it. “That’s that,” she said as she checked her own news feed for friends’ posts. If anybody insisted on boycotting her bakery or defriending her because she agreed to bake a wedding cake for a lesbian couple, that wasn’t her problem.
Feeling tired, she decided on one last check of the Sugar Rush page for any derogatory comments. When they’d launched their social media presence, Neve had insisted they keep negative remarks visible to show they had nothing to hide. Anything that read as threatening, however, would have to go, and the user blocked from posting further.
“So far, so good,” Neve murmured, seeing her reply had resulted in over a dozen likes…
And one comment that instantly caused her heart to sink deep to her stomach.
Good for you, Neve. Sugar Rush is YOUR shop, and nobody has the right to tell you how to run it or whom to serve. So proud of you.
Neve stared a long moment at the tiny photo of Gianna Diamont, a lovely brunette with soft brown eyes that could turn a hardened man to liquid. One might not detect her incredible beauty in a photo the size of a pinky fingernail, but Neve knew everything up close. She wondered how many of the thousand or so fans of this Facebook page realized Gianna’s connection to her.
A number of people had clicked the “like” function under Gianna’s response, too. It seemed to warrant some kind of acknowledgment from the store, but Neve couldn’t bring herself to open up dialogue.
She had loved Gianna once upon a time, and had expected to come home every day until she died to find the vivacious tax accountant waiting for her with a glass of wine and news of her job and life. Apparently not, she thought sadly, and fought not to think about what Gianna was doing now or to click on her profile.
As she stared at the page, a reply underneath Gianna’s popped into vi
ew. Neve gasped upon seeing the miniature Sugar Rush logo. Thanks, Gianna! We appreciate your support. The sentence ended with a smiley icon.
“What?” she cried, and checked her chat list. Damn it, Corky! Neve slouched in her chair. She couldn’t blame the girl. Corky maintained that quick responses to social posts assured customers that they took all feedback seriously. The girl, however, wasn’t privy to information about Neve’s past relationship with Gianna, and with people possibly reading this page now, Neve knew she couldn’t delete it and pretend it never happened.
Worry caught in her throat. What if Gianna interpreted this as Neve personally replying to her? What if she came to the shop? Neve took a deep breath. No, Gianna knew better than that, given their acrimonious split. It wasn’t as if “Sugar Rush” addressed her with a term of endearment, anyway. Hopefully Gianna went with the possibility that an SEO firm handled the Facebook page, and disappeared back into cyberspace.
“Okay, enough of this.” She moved her mouse to log off when a small chat window popped up on the corner of her screen. It wasn’t one of her friends. Somebody must have searched for her personal profile—she listed herself as the bakery’s owner there—and sent a private chat message. Neve didn’t recognize anybody by the name of Judy Goldsmith.
Nice post on the Sugar Rush page, it read, but I have to ask—where’s the love for cats?
Neve didn’t typically laugh out loud at anything on the internet, but this Judy definitely surprised her. The message did well enough to take her mind off Gianna. She moved her cursor toward the reply box, deciding the jest proved worthy of a reward.
Next time you’re at the shop, I’ll see what I can do.
No sooner had she sent the message than Neve saw a notification that Judy was typing another reply.
I’ll do that, and bring friends.
“Good. Bring lots of friends.” Now Neve had really had enough of social media for one night and logged off. She spent the rest of her evening unwinding in front of the TV, though the thought that business might tank in the wake of this viral activity never left her. She fell asleep in her recliner, fighting nightmares of an out-of-business sale. And a confrontation with her unfaithful ex.
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