The Sweetest Fix

by Bailey, Tessa

  He had the strangest urge to chuckle.

  “Risk it, risk it,” Jackie and Tad chanted, pounding their fists on the counter.

  “Okay. Here goes.” Reese tossed back her head and threw the cherry bomb into her mouth like she was taking a shot of tequila. Almost immediately, her eyes flew wide, her cheeks bulging out on either side. “Wrong call,” she slurred around a mouthful of chocolate.

  Leo handed her a napkin and watched in amusement as she bent forward and waved her hands, as if that was going to help her swallow. “Am I going to have to Heimlich you?”

  She straightened, visibly pulling herself together, though she kept a hand over her mouth when she spoke again. “That was incredible. You didn’t tell me there was a cherry inside. I was caught off guard by the gush, but it was perfect. Exactly what I’d cobble together if I could pick from a hundred different ingredients. How did you do that?”

  “Leo has a gift,” Jackie explained. “He likes to convince people they’re wrong about what they prefer. It’s infuriating and inexplicable.”

  Reese considered him, finally taking her hand away from her mouth to reveal not a trace of the cherry bomb she’d just eaten. “There’s something kind of eye-opening about it. Maybe I don’t know myself as well as I think, since I was going to settle on an éclair.” The girl gasped suddenly, transferring her attention back to Jackie. “I have it. The Valentine’s Day promotion of a lifetime. We all want something that shows the person we’ve been dating has been paying attention. That they know our taste. Right?”

  “Right…” Jackie said thoughtfully. “Except some people, and I’m not generalizing, will be lucky to remember Valentine’s Day at all. Men. I’m talking about men.”

  Tad screwed up his face. “I resent that.”

  “Sure, you’re totally right,” continued Reese. “A lot of customers won’t know what their significant others wants, but with a few simple questions…”

  “Leo will. Bravo,” Tad said, nodding in approval. “It’s a great idea.”

  “Sure is,” Leo drawled. “For someone else.” That shocked a laugh out of Reese and the husky music of it almost robbed Leo of his train of thought. Swallowing hard, he dropped his attention from her mouth. “I can see this turning into customers asking for relationship advice. And it requires me to talk to a lot of people. I’d rather walk on Legos.”

  “What if you do it online?” Reese suggested. “They can fill out a form…”

  He grunted. “You’re pretty willing to sign me up for a lot of work.”

  “It was just nice.” She gestured toward the cherry bombs. “Really nice. Having someone take the time to pinpoint what I like. People will love it. And even if it ends up being wrong and some dumb-dumb gives his boyfriend caramel when the dude hates caramel, at least it will prompt a conversation about likes and dislikes. It’s a win-win if you think about it.”

  The way she said “caramel” with her Wisconsin accent was ridiculous.

  He shouldn’t like it so much.

  “Come on, Leo,” Jackie said. “It’s a great way to engage the public.”

  “Maybe he’s not up to the task.” Reese sniffed, picking non-existent lint off her collar. “Maybe he got lucky with the cherry bomb.”

  Tad and Jackie sucked in identical breaths.

  “You think you could do better?” He swept an arm to indicate the display cases, and Jesus Christ, he was actually enjoying this. “Which would you choose for me?”

  If his employees thought he couldn’t see them nudging each other under the counter, they had another think coming.

  After a moment of appearing startled, Reese straightened her spine and walked the length of the case, wheels turning behind her brown eyes. There was no way she was going to guess correctly. It just wasn’t possible—

  “Biscotti.” She brushed her hair back over her shoulder, nodding at the row of glass jars on top of the case. “Not the chocolate-dipped one. Just the regular, no frills kind.”

  “She nailed it,” Tad whispered. “Holy shit.”

  Leo echoed the sentiment in his head.

  “Connection,” Jackie murmured, falling onto her elbows on the counter. “There it is.”

  This whole thing, meeting this beautiful, interesting girl and finding himself pretty eager to know every damn thing about her, was happening too publicly, even if it was only two people watching. He was probably going to say the wrong thing or accidentally offend her and the last thing he needed was an audience. But letting her simply walk out of his bakery?

  Yeah. He just couldn’t let that happen.

  Leo coughed into his fist, hoping his ears weren’t as red as they felt. “Do you want to come in back and see my work station?”

  Reese didn’t seem to register the twin gasps from Jackie and Tad, the corners of her mouth lifting into a quiet smile. “Yes. I’d like that.”

  Chapter 4

  Reese Stratton was a sensible girl.

  Being a dancer had given her the gift of discipline. Taught her the value of routines.

  The last day and a half were an anomaly.

  Until this moment, following this great, big, gorgeous bear of a man into the back of his rustic, enchanting bakery, she’d never understood why routine and discipline were so important. Well, now she did. Without rules and schedules, one ended up taking the advice from a yellow cartoon character in Times Square and falling deeper and deeper into a scheme she never should have considered in the first place.

  She should have walked in and come clean.

  Told him everything. About her audition with Bernard, her travel fiasco, the dreams of dance glory she’d been entertaining since childhood.

  She just…never expected the instant attraction.

  When in real life does it ever happen? Leo Bexley had walked out in his apron, the top of his head nearly brushing the doorframe, and she’d gotten a zap of static in her fingertips. Followed by her toes and then inward. Straight to her belly button. And that was before he’d spoken in that hibernating-with-a-jar-of-honey voice and it resonated everywhere that counted.

  As in, her vagina.

  Dear sweet Jesus, the man was nothing like she’d expected. Bernard Bexley was known for his lean, wiry frame. His son had the polar opposite build. Less dancer, more…steer. His black hair was slightly unkempt, as if it had been shoved inside a baker’s hat all day. His eyes were the most glorious shade of blue. And he was such a grump. Without apology. How refreshing! He didn’t even bother trying to bolster a good attitude for her. A customer! At one point, she’d actually wondered if that no-trespassing frown meant he wanted her to leave.

  Reese dated on occasion. Her most recent short-term relationship had been with an older brother of one of the dancers in Cedar-Boogie Dance School. She liked the theory of men, but it took a lot to inspire her to flirting. Is that what she’d been doing out there? Flirting?

  Yes, definitely. There was no way to help it when he looked like he just wanted a snack and a belly scratch. She’d turned it on. To the point that she completely forgot why she’d come to the Cookie Jar in the first place.

  You came here to charm him into helping you reschedule your audition.

  Guilt thickened like syrup in her veins.

  She should tell him everything before this—whatever it was—had a chance to get too far. But what if his surliness extended to girls who tried to use him to get to his father? Would this whole unexpected connection between them get slashed straight down the middle?

  Reese was surprised to find how little she wanted that to happen. More of the frowning and ear blushing, please. Did she have to break the spell so soon?

  Leo stopped walking abruptly and Reese ran straight into his ox-like back.

  “Oof.”

  “Christ.” He turned quickly to steady her, his huge hands wrapping around her biceps. “Sorry, I didn’t think you were so close. I’m not used to people following me back here.”

  “It’s okay,” she breathed, try
ing not to be obvious about ogling the size of his fingers.

  So. So big.

  Up close, she could see his irises were rimmed in black. Although the dark of his pupils was quickly obscuring most of the denim color. Dilating. Definitely looking pretty closely at her mouth. And on reflex she wet her lips, her belly hollowing when his grip flexed in response.

  Crazy enough, if he kissed her right now, she would let him.

  No. She’d kiss him back.

  When had a guy ever affected her like this?

  If one had come close, she couldn’t remember. Definitely never this fast.

  “How did you know I prefer biscotti?”

  This was another reason she already liked him. He didn’t stop to think whether or not the moment was appropriate for a question. Or how he should ask it. He was decisive and blunt. A person would probably never have to worry what he was thinking, and that kind of uncertainty had always been her problem with men in the past. Sure, they asked questions about her, but upon giving her answers, their eyes were almost translucent with boredom, as if they were watching a tiny football game inside their brains, drowning her out in the process.

  Leo didn’t strike her as a man of many words. Far from it. Right now, though, she could see he was suspicious about her powers of deduction. Earlier, he’d been relieved to find out she didn’t have a boyfriend. He wasn’t hiding as much as he thought behind that scowl. She could read it just fine, and God, that was nice. Honest and comforting.

  Although he probably wouldn’t take kindly to the reason she’d been led to guess biscotti. Basically, she’d imagined him as a bear with his paw stuck in a honey jar. Which led her to the glass display canisters—and boom. She’d known.

  “Well.” She thought about reminding him that his hands were still wrapped around her arms, but stayed quiet, just in case the hint made him remove that touch. The tingle was too nice to mess with. “That cherry bomb didn’t look natural in your hand. Too dainty. You couldn’t get rid of it fast enough. So I got the hunch you do the fancy stuff for customers, but you’re into the classics. Big chocolate chip cookies. Black Forest cake. Staples of the bakery world.”

  This man was making a visible effort to see into her brain. He made a sound that could only be described as a sexy garbage disposal.

  “Then I thought, if you’re a baker, you’re probably up really early in the morning. The natural choice would be biscotti, right?” When the groove between his eyebrows only deepened, she bit back a smile. “Are you going to show me where the magic happens?”

  Yup. Definitely flirting.

  Definitely flirting with the guy she’d come to beg for assistance. It didn’t matter that one had nothing to do with the other, she was on borrowed time. But she really didn’t want to end this association so soon. Intuition told her that’s exactly what would happen.

  Leo did a double-take when he realized his hands were still on her, dropping them away fast and scrubbing his palms on the chest of his apron. “What you said before, about getting up early, is true. But there’s another baker who gets here earlier to do the bread, croissants, quiche and pain au chocolat.” He stepped back, tipping his head toward the far end of the back room, where several racks and oversized ovens were located. “That’s his side. I get here around when he’s finishing up to start the pastries. I prep what I can the night before. That’s what I was doing when you got here.”

  “Sorry to interrupt.”

  His mouth twitched. “Your smile says otherwise.”

  Reese pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Who wouldn’t smile at a spur-of-the-moment behind the scenes bakery tour?” She turned in a circle, taking in the huge standing mixers, the deep fryer, the clipboards hanging on the walls, lettered in precise blocky handwriting that she surmised belonged to the man following her sound, hands clasped behind his back. “Here’s what I was working on.”

  He opened up a door of an industrial fridge to reveal a wonderland of color. Reese didn’t know where to look first. At the rainbow of cake pops or Hershey kiss-sized meringues. The éclairs or…what were those? She pointed and looked at him in question.

  “Those are butterscotch panna cotta. Ready for the after dinner crowd.”

  “Butterscotch panna cotta,” she repeated, dazed. “I’ve never heard those three words together and that’s a crime.”

  Leo shrugged a mountainous shoulder. “They’re no Black Forest cake.”

  “Ha! I knew it.” His cheek did kind of jerky thing she interpreted as a smile and it caused a definite flip in her mid-section. This reaction to a guy was so incredibly out of the ordinary, she searched for a distraction that would give her time to recover. And found it just to his right, sitting on one of the metal tables. A red cake on a decorating stand, intricately piped on the side with white tulip outlines. “Who is that cake for?”

  “No one,” he said, seeming caught off guard himself. “It’s a display for the front window. Valentine’s Day and all.”

  “No one is going to eat it?”

  “I usually leave it there for a day, then Jackie gives away free slices to customers.”

  “You never give them away yourself?”

  The very idea seemed to give him chills. “No. Why?”

  “You’re not in this profession for the feedback? I always assumed people baked solely for the moment someone tastes their work. Eyes roll back in the head, inappropriate groaning. Etcetera.” She mimicked what the facial expression she was referring to, hoping to get another smile out of him, but he only looked thoughtful. “What are you in it for, Leo?”

  He crossed his brawny arms and considered, staring down at the cake. “The repetition. The routine and tradition. I like the feeling of waking up in the morning before everyone else and them knowing…that they can walk in here and be fed, no matter what. That someone else took care of that worry for them. I guess I like being a given.”

  Warmth smeared across her chest like butter. It took her a moment to gather enough breath. She never could have expected that answer, but it fit him to a T. He didn’t come across like most guys in his twenties. There was a gravity and salt-of-the-earth quality to him and she was positive that in the future, when waking up early, she would think of him doing the same, knowing he wouldn’t deviate for love or money. “That’s really nice. Still, I hope you get a little feedback through the door once in a while. Or maybe scroll through the five-star Yelp reviews late at night when no one is watching.”

  “I’ll deny that in a court of law.”

  That warm butter sensation spread all the way to her belly. It caused Reese to speak more freely than she intended. Being in this man’s company was calming and stimulating, all at the same time. “My mom and I loved baking on the weekends when I was growing up, trying out recipes we watched people with actual talent make on television. We held a bake sale once a year to raise funds for her dance school and let me tell you, if there was no praise involved, we would have done a car wash instead.”

  His left eye twitched. “Dance school.”

  “Yes,” she said slowly, sensing his guard coming up. “She taught me everything I know.”

  Leo sighed, uncrossing his arms to scrub at the back of his neck.

  Whoa. Landmine.

  She hadn’t even gotten to the bad part yet.

  Go on. She’d landed on the perfect transition. Can you help me?

  How hard could it be?

  She’d come here for the purpose of getting another chance at Bexley. Just because she was experiencing an odd instant attraction to the famed chorographer’s son didn’t mean she could just drop her plan, forget the main reason she’d come to New York City in the first place. This was her only hope. The words wouldn’t come out, though, remaining stuck like a peach pit in the center of her throat.

  Because it was wrong. To use Leo that way. Even if he consented and agreed to throw her a life preserver in the form of a rescheduled audition, it would be awful. And there was something about his reaction to f
inding out she was a dancer that made Reese wonder if dancers were a hot button issue for him. His suddenly reserved body language hinted at the topic of dancing in general being a no-fly zone.

  She ached to find out why.

  Ached to know anything more about Leo, really.

  But she’d screwed herself over by not being upfront. If she came clean about her ulterior motives now, the last magical fifteen minutes would be seen as an act, when they were anything but. Far from it, actually. She’d forgotten just about everything in the path of those blue eyes.

  Guilt pressed down on Reese’s shoulders, made worse by the fact that Leo was no longer looking her in the eye, a conflict waging in his expression. There was no choice but to leave and regroup. Think of another way to scrap her way onto a stage.

  It wouldn’t be through Leo.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, the sincerity of those words pulling a string taut in her chest. “I just realized I’m late for something.”

  With one last sweeping look at the gruff giant and his colorful, well-ordered baking paradise, Reese swept from the back room, pushing through the swinging door and walking at a fast clip toward the exit of the bakery. Jackie and Tad were in the middle of helping customers, Reese saw in her periphery, and she threw them the friendliest wave she could muster under the circumstances. Was the pressure in her chest really coming from leaving this man she’d only just met? It didn’t seem possible and yet, there was a sense of loss that grew stronger the closer she got to the stenciled glass door.

  “Wait,” Leo said, thundering out of the back room behind her. “Reese.”

  Her hand paused on the antique brass door handle, breath catching.

  Don’t turn around. Keep going.

  But then his warmth reached her back. Not touching, just close. And his big hand landed on her shoulder, setting off a little explosion of giddiness in her belly. “I made it awkward, didn’t I?” he said, quietly.

  “What?” She had no choice but to turn around, her neck craning in order to look him in the eye. “No. You didn’t. I just…”