The next day Tracey took Chef Sorrel aside to teach him our signature swirl. I felt odd as I watched them bantering and for some reason found that I couldn’t keep watching them together, so I went off to find something else to do.
After that we were presented with all manner of tests so Chef Sorrel could figure out what we struggled with. I worked with bated breath as he made his way around the room, checking.
“How are you today, Violet?” he asked with his charming smile.
“I’m doing well, Chef Sorrel,” I said, trying to hide how nervous I was.
“It looks like you have an excellent grasp of the basics.”
“Really?”
“Now, the one thing I’d like you to work on…” He paused and flashed a grin at the camera. I waited, wondering what on earth it could be. “I want you to work on not piping.”
“I… sorry what?”
He chuckled. “Sorry, what I mean is how to stop piping. Different designs call for a different way of separating the icing from the bag; a small tail, a flick, a sudden stop… I would especially like you to work on your flicks.”
He pulled out a new laminated sheet of paper and set it down. Then, with his hands on mine, guided me through how he wanted me to finish off each part, showing me how I should vary the pressure on the bag as I gave it the upward, or sideways or sometimes even downward, flicks that each different decoration called for.
I looked at him as he moved on to the next person and felt a flutter in my stomach when he turned back to glance at me, almost as if he was reluctant to stop the lesson. I watched him for a moment instead of getting to work and realized in alarm that I felt almost like a schoolgirl with a crush. I quickly forced my gaze away and back to the work in front of me.
Obviously I didn't have a crush on Chef Sorrel Glaze. I told myself most likely I was feeling that way because he was a famous baker. In fact, he was the first famous person I had ever been in close proximity to, aside from that one time I saw a famous actress at an airport and the handful of players from local professional sports teams who would come in to buy cupcakes. They were always polite, but since I didn't follow magless sports, I usually didn't even know who they were until my magicless coworkers started freaking out.
That must have been what was different about Chef Sorrel; he was famous. I looked up to him and he was actually teaching me what I was longing to learn.
My silly crush was also why I was disappointed when we didn’t walk home together again after that first day. He had started staying at the bakery after work, working with his crew and Tracey. I didn’t expect it to happen again and was pleasantly surprised when I heard his voice.
“Heading back home, Violet?”
I turned around and swear my heart skipped a beat as I saw him jogging down the sidewalk after me. Yes; I decided I absolutely had some sort of a ridiculous celebrity crush. Chef Sorrel caught up to me and I smiled at him.
“Yeah, are you going home too? Well, to your hotel?”
“Yes,” he chuckled.
We walked along together in silence for a minute or two.
“I think you really improved your piping skills today. You're a quick learner,” he said suddenly.
“Thank you!” I wondered if he meant it or if he was just humoring me.
“I've been thinking about what you said,” he continued, “and I definitely want to make sure that we get some extra time to advance your skills once we've got all the basic covered. Is there anything in particular you're hoping to learn?”
“Oh,” I said, surprised and pleased that he had been thinking about my future as a cake decorator. I considered it for a moment and realized I had never actually given it much thought beyond wanting to learn it all. “Not really… I guess just anything that will elevate my skills, maybe techniques that I can use to build new skills… Stuff I can start practicing on my own that I can expand on?”
“Sounds good. I think we can work with that.”
“Thank you, Chef. Really.”
“Please, the cameras are off, you can just call me Sorrel.”
I cleared my throat. “Thanks… Sorrel.”
We kept walking and I heard another familiar voice call out, “Hey, Violet!”
Chef Sorrel and I turned to see Lavender across the street; she was outside setting up the tables and chairs at the restaurant where she worked, as they prepared to open for dinner.
“Hey, you,” I called back, waving. “Have a good night at work.”
“Thanks!”
“Who was that?” Chef Sorrel asked me as she went inside.
“That's my roommate, Lavender.” I don't know why I felt the need to elaborate, it was doubtful that he cared, but I went on, “We share the apartment with our friend, Rose. The three of us have been best friends since we were born, literally; our mothers were all friends and worked at the plant nursery together.”
“That explains the names,” he chuckled.
“You decorate cakes for a living and your last name is Glaze,” I pointed out with a giggle.
Chef Sorrel let out a rich, warm laugh before I could regret the joke, then shot me a grin. “You know, I think you may be the first person to ever point that out.”
We both laughed, then he paused and looked back. “How is the food at that restaurant?”
“It’s good,” I said, remembering he was new in town. “Pricey, but worth it.”
“What are you doing for dinner this evening?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Probably just leftovers.”
“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked.
I turned toward him, caught off guard. “With you?
“There.” He nodded toward the restaurant. “Tonight?”
I stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if this was related to cake decorating or if it was supposed to be a date.
“That… would be great,” I said.
“Then… great! I’ll meet you here at seven?”
I realized we were on the sidewalk in front of my building. “Perfect.”
“See you then.”
I stared after him as he walked away. Had he just asked me out? The idea made me nervous and giddy. I laughed at myself as I headed into the building. I felt like after countless botched first dates, I should have learned to not get my hopes up. Wasn’t I supposed to be over first-date jitters by forty anyway? Sometimes it felt like I was s much younger girl, just pretending to fit in with mature women. Who let me grow up, anyway?
Besides, I didn’t have any proof it was a date; it must have been business related in some way. All of the other employees at Tracey’s were a mix of college students or people who worked at the bakery, but didn’t have aspirations of owning their own. Maybe Chef Sorrel was pulling me aside to offer some advice because he knew I had aspirations and he wanted to talk business. Yes, that was it.
At least, that was what I told myself until I changed to leave and Belle stopped me in the doorway.
“You’re going on a date with Chef Sorrel Glaze and that’s what you’re wearing?” she asked.
“It’s not a date,” I protested.
Rose chose that exact moment to come in the door. “What's not a date?” she asked.
Belle turned to her. “Chef Glaze invited Violet to go to Riverview for dinner this evening. And she doesn't think it's a date.”
“What did he say?” Rose asked, setting down her bag.
“He just asked what my plans were and then invited me to dinner; I'm sure it's to talk about bakery stuff.”
“Are the cameras going to be there?” she asked.
“He didn’t say.”
Booke climbed out of her bag and looked at me skeptically. “And that’s what you’re wearing?”
“That’s what I said,” Belle chimed in.
“You’re cats!” I groaned. “How would you have any idea what's appropriate for date night or not?”
“Because we pay attention to humans,” Belle said ca
lmly.
“More than you do, apparently,” added Booke.
“I really don't think it's a date,” I said.
“It's a pretty fancy restaurant…” Candal commented from the windowsill. “Lavender said people propose there all the time.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling hopelessly outnumbered. “So, if it is a date, what do you suggest I wear? And,” I said, holding up a finger before any of them could say anything. “It needs to be appropriate if you're wrong and it's not a date.”
In the end, we compromised on keeping on my black dress slacks, as long as I exchanged my flats for heels and put on a nicer top than the sweater I had been wearing. They also insisted I trade my massive catch-all purse for a sleek clutch. I transferred the essentials and soon, I was ready to go out the door again.
“Much better,” Belle said approvingly.
“And appropriate for the restaurant,” Candal added. “You'll fit in without looking like you were trying to dress up too much.”
“Fair enough,” I grumbled, “but I really think you're all overreacting. It's not a date.”
I realized that Rose was staring at me with a strange expression. “What?” I demanded.
She shrugged one shoulder a little and said softly. “I can't believe I'm going to say this... but I can't stop thinking about our conversation regarding that spell the other night. And…” She shrugged again. “You're forty, you just met a man... he asked you out on a date.”
“I…” I swallowed nervously.
“He's here,” Candal announced suddenly.
“How do you know what he looks like?” I asked.
The cat turned away from the window and flattened his ears at me disdainfully. “I watch Cake Magic too, you know.”
“Okay, well…” Suddenly I was extremely nervous.
“Good luck,” Rose offered.
“Yes, good luck,” Belle purred in agreement.
“Thanks!” I gave my familiar a quick hug and a scratch behind the ears, then hurried off.
As I walked through the lobby I realized something that we had all neglected to take into consideration; Chef Sorrel was magicless. It wouldn’t be an impossible relationship, but it certainly would be a lot harder to date a magless guy instead of a wizard. The thought actually made me feel better; this couldn't possibly be a situation of the spell coming to pass, not with someone magicless. Surely my destiny lay with a wizard. With that thought in mind, I headed out the door and onto the sidewalk, just as the chef finished crossing the street.
Chapter Six
I hadn't felt this nervous and excited going on a date since before the worst Love Spell Ever was cast. It felt strange to be looking forward to it so much. As we walked down the sidewalk together I realized that it was because, for the first time since casting it, I didn't have the lingering doubt in the back of my mind that the spell was real and the relationship would crash and burn – if it even went beyond one date in the first place. This time though, I had just the tiniest sliver of hope that it would be different that Chef Sorrell would be the one I had been waiting for. Or more accurately, the one the love spell had been waiting for.
As soon as it occurred to me, however, my joy at the prospect of the date quickly turned into doubt; I had no way of being sure that the spell was real and that now, after all this time, this guy I barely knew was supposed to be my soulmate or something. That wasn't the way real magic worked.
In fact I wasn’t even sure it was a date. At least, I wasn’t until he suddenly broke the silence.
“You look beautiful.”
I looked at him in surprise and he flashed me a shy smile.
“I mean,” he added quickly, “I’ve always thought you were beautiful, but it’s a different picture without the apron and all the flour.”
“Thank you,” I said with a nervous laugh. “You’re not so bad yourself. I mean…” I cleared my throat; I could have cursed myself for the awkward response. Not that it wasn’t true, he did look quite a bit different when he wasn't dressed up for the cameras. It occurred to me that aside from some icing, he usually didn’t seem to have any flour or other ingredients on him. “How do you always stay so clean? I asked. I can’t bake anything without ending up with flour somewhere.” I didn’t add that it was usually on my hips from my annoying tendency to wipe my hands off behind my apron. Even as I asked, I realized that I hadn’t seen him bake at all since his arrival. “Have you even baked here yet?”
A strange look passed over his face and he seemed to hesitate before saying, “I don’t really bake.” I furrowed my brows in confusion and he went on, “Hollywood magic, you know? I’m on the show for my decorating skills. All the baking is done for me.”
“Oh. I’d hate not being able to bake my own cakes,” I said.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve always preferred decorating anyway.”
I don’t know why, but suddenly everything seemed awkward. Maybe the love spell – or was it a curse? – wasn’t broken.
Our arrival at the restaurant saved me before anything got even more awkward. Chef Sorrel held the door open for me, then one we were inside he extended an elbow for me. It was a little old-fashioned, but the chivalry made me smile. I accepted it and linked my elbow around his as we headed to the hostess stand.
Just my luck: Lavender was on duty.
“Oh!” she said in surprise as she saw us.
“Table for two, please?” said Chef Sorrel.
“Of course, right this way.” Lavender grabbed two menus and we followed her across the restaurant.
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at her back as she led us up a flight of stairs. As often as I had eaten here over the years, I had never once set foot upstairs. It didn’t seem like the lower level was particularly crowded either.
The upstairs dining room was practically empty. Lavender brought us to a small table by the windows with a beautiful view of the river.
“So, this is why it’s called Riverview,” said Chef Sorrel, looking out the window.
I nodded, although admittedly I had always assumed the name was from before any of the buildings across the street were constructed since you couldn’t see the river from the lower level. It was a beautiful view; one I didn’t see often since our apartment wasn’t high enough.
“The restaurant’s best kept secret,” Lavender said, setting out our menus.
Chef Sorrel pulled out my chair, then pushed it in for me once I was sitting. I smiled shyly at the pampering as I settled in.
“I’ll be back in a bit to take your orders,” said Lavender. She headed off toward the stairs, but turned back and shot me a sly look and a wink.
I simply shrugged innocently and turned away.
“That was your friend, er, Lavender?” asked Chef Sorrel.
“Yeah, that was her.”
He nodded and then looked back out the window. “It’s a lovely view.”
“It is.” I didn’t want to just leave it at that, so I went on, “There’s a wonderful little boardwalk down there with a café on the water.”
“Oh,” he said. “We could have gone there if I had known.”
“It’s pretty casual,” I said. “My friends and I like to hang out there, my other roommate works next door.”
“That sounds fun, maybe we should go there sometime.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said, nervously clearing my throat. It was quickly sinking in that the familiars and Rose were right, this was a date.
To my relief, he picked up his menu. I did the same and we studied them a for a little while.
“Any suggestions?” he asked me.
“Everything is good,” I laughed. “I usually just let Lavender pick something.”
He nodded agreeably and closed his menu. “Are you alright? You seem nervous.”
“No! I mean, yes, I’m nervous. I mean…” I trailed off and groaned.
“It’s alright,” he said, “I understand.”
“You… do?”
“I�
��ve put you in a rather awkward position, asking you out…” He shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t normally go on dates with anyone involved in the show... I’m sorry, it’s just…”
“Just?” I prompted.
To my surprise, he started blushing. “There’s something about you… I felt like I just had to get to know you better.”
I felt like blushing too. I wondered if I should thank him, but instead let out a nervous laugh.
“So, please,” Chef Sorrel said. “Don’t be nervous. Just try to forget I’m on some silly baking show and try to think of me as a regular person.”
“Oh, it’s not that at all, Chef Sorrel,” I said, realizing that was why he thought I was awkward.
“It’s not?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “You can drop the “chef” since we are on a date.”
“Right,” I said. Here I was trying to convince him I wasn’t starstruck and I was calling him Chef Sorrel! “I’m sorry, Mr. Glaze.”
He looked at me like I had sprouted another head. “I meant Sorrel…”
Well, I was pretty sure I could write off a second date already.
Mercifully, Lavender appeared. “Are you ready to order?”
“Yes!” I practically yelled.
“I think I’ll just be taking your advice,” Chef Sorrel told her with a smile. “Appetizer, drinks, main course… Violet says you have the inside scoop on what’s good.”
Lavender grinned and nodded. “And for you, Miss?” she asked me with mock formality.
I reopened my menu and glanced down, still kicking myself for the whole Mr. Glaze thing. “Well,” I said slowly. “Mr. I will have whatever appetizer you think is good as well.” I closed my menu feeling satisfied and looked up. To my surprise, Lavender’s eyes were wide and she was positively gaping at me, looking slightly horrified.
Bewitching the Baker: A Paranormal Chick Lit Novel (Witchy is the New Forty Book 1) Page 4