“Sleep with one eye open, Baker Boy,” she said, her middle and pointer fingers in a V pointed at him in a universal gesture of I’m watching you.
“I’ll do it with two eyes open thanks to my 3-in-1, Coffee Girl,” he breezily replied, leaning against his doorway with his arms crossed. He was ignoring the fact that Ransom was rolling his eyes behind him, so exaggerated he could almost hear it.
Sari huffed again, and her dark hair fanned around her face as she and her pretty pink skirt walked down the Laneways, heading to the direction of Kira’s chocolate shop, which still had all the lights on. And for the moment, Gabriel completely forgot about his worries, forgot about not getting too attached to this place.
“Sir,” Ransom said just as she was out of earshot. “If you’re trying to flirt with M’am Sari, it’s not working.”
“I am not flirting,” he said, quickly snapping out of his feelings. “And I thought you said you were tired? Maybe you have enough energy to come in early tomorrow to bake?”
“I’m going, I’m going.” Ransom held his hands up in the air and beat a hasty retreat. Gabriel watched Sari in the distance for a little longer before he slung his bag over his head and left the Laneways for the evening.
Chapter Seven
December 12
With the number of things currently going on in Sari’s life (Sam’s move, avoidance of many personal issues including her irrational prank war with her neighbor, the wasps that were coming in and out of her house), she almost forgot she had a meeting with Anton Santillan until he texted her that morning.
Meet you at the lobby lounge at Villa. Wrapping up a meeting here.
Sure, she replied, because whoever Santi got as a supplier for his baked goods was really good at making biscotti, tiramisu and sfogiatelle, and combined with the specialty blend Sari developed for the hotel’s café, it was an instant recipe for a good morning. Sari didn’t usually personally deliver roasted beans to Tomas Coffee Co.’s clients, but the hotel was midway between her house and the Laneways, and Santi was great at giving business advice over breakfast. Plus, it was nice to get out of the café sometimes, even if it was to walk into someone else’s.
Santi ran Hotel Villa, the fanciest hotel in Lipa. He’d taken over the place three years ago, around the same time Sari had opened Café Cecilia, and had insisted on getting all local suppliers for his café and for the hotel itself. Sari had had the chance to stay in the hotel a couple of times, on weekends when Sam wanted the whole house for herself, and she always thought it was extremely comfortable, with the best beds in the world. The fact that the lobby lounge was nice and airy too was a bonus. Santi himself had seemed incredibly standoffish at first, but had marginally warmed up to Sari in the last three years they’d worked together. He was one of those rare, no-nonsense businessmen who still understood the importance of creating a personal relationship with his suppliers and with the community. Sari always enjoyed their meetings.
Until she walked in, only to find Santi and Gabriel talking in excited, hushed voices, and Sari’s mood immediately crashed. Well. No, not crashed, exactly. More like...changed. It didn’t feel like it was a bad thing, seeing Gabriel without expecting to. It was surprising, sure, but the anger she’d felt over the past few days had boiled over, and now was just a ball of confusion that roiled in her stomach.
She was used to seeing him in the Laneways, used to seeing him frown at her whenever their eyes met. But seeing him somewhere else, in the context of something else, she couldn’t quite pin her emotions down.
“...see if I can get a meeting with the Lai Group next week,” Santi was saying. “I’m feeling very positive about it. And it’s a great opportunity for us. It’s exactly what we wanted.”
“Oh, that’s great,” Gabriel said, nodding, although his agreement was less than enthusiastic. Sari wondered what they were talking about, not that she cared. “Looking forward to it.”
“You could sound a little more enthusiastic, you know,” Santi berated him. “You were the one who wanted this.”
“I know, I know. And you’re right. It’s an amazing opportunity. Thank you. But I just...oh,” Gabriel said suddenly as he turned his head to where Sari was standing. She smiled like she hadn’t heard a thing the two of them were talking about and approached the table.
“Sari,” Santi said, standing up to shake her hand. In the three years she’d been working with him, Santi never did besos, or anything past what was strictly appropriate. The ever-formal hotelier was handsome in a chaebol heir kind of way, devastatingly handsome, but covered in a veneer of stiff formality that made girls wish they would be the ones to break through it. “Thanks for meeting me here. We were just talking about you, actually.”
Whoever managed to break through Anton Santillan’s walls would be a fearsome woman to behold. Or man. Or person. She didn’t know what his preference was.
“Hmm, good things, I hope?” she asked, sitting in the empty seat between the two boys, and making a concerted effort not to look Gabriel Capras directly in the eye. Which was perfect, because Gabriel was doing a really bad job of hiding the fact that he was looking at her.
“Good is subjective,” he said beside her. “Santi was haranguing me about our thing.”
“Our thing?” she repeated incredulously, wanting to choke and laugh as she ordered a latte and biscotti.
“Well, calling it a rivalry would just make it obvious that you and I have the emotional maturity of five-year-olds,” he smirked, taking a bite of focaccia. Just the bread, and nothing else. “Mm, Santi, this is really good.”
“Thank you,” Santi said primly, sipping his demitasse. “One of the few things I can bake well.”
“Are you kidding?” Sari asked, accepting her coffee and immediately dunking her biscotti in it. “I love the baked goods in this place. You made them, Santi?”
“Er,” Santi said awkwardly, turning to Gabriel, who suddenly looked like the most smug bastard who ever decided to be smug. The dots connected in Sari’s head. Santi and Gabriel were obviously business partners, which was why he was here, and why the lobby lounge was suddenly producing such amazing baked goods. “I actually have a local supplier.”
“You?” Sari asked, almost exasperated that she had to put down the langka, pistachio and macadamia biscotti. “Will I ever escape you, Gabriel?”
“I mean,” he shrugged, popping another bit of focaccia into his mouth. Sari could almost smell the olive oil, could see it on his lips. “It doesn’t sound like you’re trying very hard.”
Sari made a frustrated sound as she collapsed against her chair, turning away from Gabriel completely to face Santi. No need for him to notice that she’d picked up the biscotti again and started nibbling, because she really did like it, damn it.
“As I was saying,” Santi cut in, clearing his throat as he finished his coffee. “Gabriel was worried about the image our bakery was projecting—”
“You’re business partners too,” Sari sighed, shaking her head. “Great.”
“But I was actually telling him that the publicity has been a boost,” Santi continued, and Sari could swear she heard Gabriel snickering beside her. That she felt comfortable enough to playfully kick him under the table told her just how much their relationship had changed in a span of twelve days. And that was something she didn’t want to dwell on. Not at all. “For both your stores, I imagine.”
Sari didn’t deny it, but refused to say anything more. Santi excused himself to arrange for someone to pick up the roasted coffee beans from her car. Sari handed him the keys, and Santi gave her a little nod of thanks before he walked out of the hotel, presumably to pick up the beans himself.
“You’re business partners with Santi,” Sari said, as they both watched him leave. “Is there any aspect of my life that you aren’t remotely part of? Maybe I should introduce you to my little sister, you can date her, so the
circle is complete.”
“Sari,” he said with a little sigh, and his curls actually flopped forward a bit at the motion. She’d caught herself staring at his hair quite a few times, she couldn’t help it. As if noticing just that, Gabriel raked his fingers through it, and Sari now had the image of his gorgeous, veined hands tugging lightly at his curls. “We both know that your sister isn’t the one I want to go out with.”
She took another bite of the biscotti and a swallow of coffee. Unfortunately it did nothing to tamp down the inexplicable heat that rose in her belly at Gabriel’s ridiculous suggestion.
It’s a prank war, remember? she told herself.
“Anyway,” he said, brushing focaccia crumbs off his lap, and pocketing his phone, which Sari hadn’t noticed was on the table. “I have to go back to the bakery. Things to bake, people to prank, you know.”
“Good luck,” Sari found herself saying, turning her head to him to say something a little more cutting when very suddenly he pressed his cheek against hers and smacked his lips.
Did he just...give me a beso? Sari blinked, watching Gabriel Capras, infuriating man with the gorgeous curls, walk away from the lobby lounge of Hotel Villa, waving at Santi, who was just coming back inside with Sari’s keys.
“You okay?” Santi asked as he returned to their table, and it was a bad sign that Sari didn’t even notice Santi handing her keys back until he asked for her attention. She blinked at him.
“Yeah, yeah, fine,” she said, shaking her head to clear it. “I’m going to get another biscotti.”
Chapter Eight
December 13
Gab had to hand it to Sari. She was an evil mastermind.
An evil mastermind masquerading as a café owner, an evil mastermind with a smile that made his insides feel all mixed up and confused. Because that was all this feeling was, surely? Confusion? It couldn’t really be more than that between them. It was just a friendly rivalry. That was all.
The beso at Hotel Villa had been an accident. An instinctual move that he couldn’t have predicted would have such a startling effect on both of them. He gave besos to aunties, to uncles when he was younger (their egos were too fragile to handle a beso from a nephew when he didn’t look much like a nephew anymore) and friends, all the time. Besos were polite, they were something you did. And he’d given one to Sari, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He’d barely been thinking when he did that, which was a common theme for him. Did that mean he saw her as an auntie? A friend? He really didn’t know.
At first, he thought his buoyant mood after leaving Hotel Villa was because of what he and Santi had discussed. How the bakery was doing well on its first two weeks, their plans for the grand opening in January, that a real estate development group had approached Santi the other day about pitching potential businesses to a new mall they were opening up. Malls meant foot traffic and foot traffic meant greater chances of making Sunday Bakery attractive to possible franchisers, or more stores.
But all of that didn’t quite match up to the grin that spread on his face whenever he thought of Sari’s face after the beso, her face after she realized that he’d made the biscotti she was so clearly enjoying. He was surprised to find that he quite liked seeing her happy and caught off guard, much more than he enjoyed seeing her flabbergasted and annoyed at him.
That giddiness only lasted about a day, until Sari, Café Owner and Evil Mastermind, unleashed a horror of a social media announcement the following morning.
My new favorite bakery, @SundayBakery is having a Cookies for Condoms special! Bring a condom, get a free cookie! Hot tip, the owner loves Tropical Hot Watermelon Wonderland
A stroke of genius, if Gab could say so himself. He would go to the café just to applaud Sari if his store wasn’t full of customers carrying contraceptives in their pockets asking for cookies. Because of course, Gabriel was going to do it.
“One condoms for cookies promo!” Faye yelled over the cash register, dropping yet another Tropical Hot condom into the slowly growing bowl of condoms they had to put by the register. Hilariously enough, the customers actually brought more Watermelon Wonderland than any of the other flavors. “Ransom, don’t think I didn’t see you pocketing those!”
“Hey, we’re all safe sex advocates here,” Gabriel assured Faye, patting her back lightly as he refilled their tray of the promo cookies, simple sugar cookies that he’d managed to whip up quick, each with the Sunday Bakery logo. “I think it’s fun. And she totally got it wrong. I much prefer Banana Bliss. It’s metaphorical and flavorful.”
“You just think it’s fun because Miss Sari thinks it’s hilarious.” Ransom waved a Hawaiian Glee flavored condom as Faye giggled. “Weirdest ligawan ever.”
“This isn’t a courtship,” he told them for what felt like the thousandth time that day, smiling as he handed a customer a cookie in exchange for a Dalandan Delight, the rarest flavor of the bunch. “It’s competition. It’s about one-upping each other and trying to look the least bit like a fool in the process.”
“A little late for that, boss,” Faye giggled, shaking the jar of condoms they’d collected so far.
“Hijo,” Ate Nessie said, bursting into the shop like there wasn’t a line going in, carrying a hand fan that was bigger than the ceiling fan in the shop and waving it around. She looked like she needed to tell him something urgent, and walked right up to the counter where Gabriel was standing and reading the ingredients list in one of the Banana Bliss packs.
“Ate Nessie!” he said in surprise, quickly jamming said condom into his pocket, hoping to God she didn’t notice. “What a pleasure to have you in Sunday Bakery. What can I do for you? Or are you finally here to teach me how to make your amazing bonete?”
“Nice try, young man.” She rolled her eyes. “But I was told that I could get a cookie in exchange for those balloons you buy in the drugstore.”
“Balloons?” Gabriel asked in confusion.
“Yes,” she said, waving her closed fan in the direction of the condom bowl. “Balloons.”
* * *
“You,” Gabriel said later that afternoon, opening the door to the fire escape, completely unsurprised to find Sari already there, looking out at the view of the still untouched forest land behind the Laneways. The sun was setting low in the horizon, and when she turned to him with an amused smile on her face, it was like she was glowing and radiating happiness.
Ba-dump, went his heart. Woosh, went every thought he’d had before he came here to see her. He didn’t know when talking to her at their fire escape had become a thing, but clearly it was now.
“Me,” Sari said, lifting her cup to her lips. “Long day?”
“Does Ate Nessie really not know what condoms are, or did you somehow orchestrate this so I would have to defile a whole comb of bananas for an audience that didn’t get sex ed?”
Her laughter made the entire afternoon worth it. One thing he’d noticed the day he met Sari, aside from the fact that she didn’t like him, was that there was a sadness hiding behind those deep brown eyes of hers. Not that Gabriel had any right to know what it was or why it was there, but it was nice, being the reason for it to go away, even if just for a little while.
So much for not getting attached to this place, an old voice in the back of his head whispered. Gab wasn’t even sure who was speaking anymore, his siblings, his father or him. But the Laneways had wriggled its way into his heart, and the person standing across from him was one of the big reasons why.
“Oh,” Sari said, getting something from the pocket of her skirt and holding it up between her middle and index finger. Tropical Hot Dalandan Delight. “I would like a cookie.”
“We’re sold out.” He tried to sound apologetic, but he wasn’t really. Not at all. “Do you take IOUs?”
“Why not,” Sari shrugged, slipping the condom into the left pocket of his jeans. “See you, Gabriel
.”
Then she bumped her hip against his before she disappeared into her coffee lab. Gab only relaxed when she was out of earshot, and from the way his heart was pounding and his head felt a little bit dizzy, he knew he was in trouble.
“My bananas were very unhappy, Sari!” he called after her, just before he walked back into his kitchen.
Chapter Nine
December 14
Sari got home late the next day. She had been doing that a lot, coming home late, and if pressed, she already had a whole host of reasons why—beans to roast, a specialty client to please, problems with suppliers, matters of concern that only she could handle. But whenever she came home late, she was always disappointed to find that she wasn’t the last person in the house to get home.
Sam had been spending almost all her time at the farm. Based on the plans she left laid out in the living room and the calls Sari managed to catch in the mornings of her talking to contractors and electricians, her house project was becoming quite the endeavor. While Sari would never be grown up enough to admit that she was pouting over it, she was grown enough to admit that she already missed her sister, and she technically still lived in the house.
Pulling her re-heated dinner from the microwave (their house help worked days at their house and went home once dinner was made), Sari sat in the dining room set for six and whipped out her phone, propping it up against the wine bottle that they had repurposed into a water pitcher.
Home na me, where na you, she typed, which was very unlike her, but she was bored and lonely, and excuse her for being cutesy.
She was expecting a reply from Sam, but her phone started to ring instead to let her know that Selene was calling. Any time her sister called, it meant it was something important. Sari slid the call to Accept and was treated to her sister’s serious face looking at her through the phone screen.
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