Page 77 of Delicious

“They don’t care, that’s how.” Cookie huffs. “So what do you want?”

“A latte is fine, thanks.”

He heads around behind the counter and starts switching things on and getting organised. Before long, the heavenly scent of coffee reaches me, the perfect accompaniment to the mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked… well, I’m not sure exactly what Colin is baking in the kitchen but the smell is delicious, the scent of warm pastry, cinnamon and vanilla filling the air.

My stomach growls loudly, and I hear a laugh as a plate is set down in front of me along with a large cup.

“That’s one of the sample cupcakes with my frosting I made last night,” he says, nodding to the plate before moving to the next table and beginning to fill the little pot in the centre of the table with little sugar sachets.

I probably shouldn’t be having a cupcake for breakfast but underneath the easy smile and bright eyes, there’s a hint of nervousness in Cookie’s expression. So against my better judgement, I peel back the paper and sink my teeth into a swirl of creamy frosting and the lightest, fluffiest cupcake I’ve ever tasted. I lick my lip and chew slowly, the delicate flavours bursting on my tongue. I’d expected it to be quite heavy and sickly and, to be honest, too sweet for me, but this is utter perfection in one bite. I’m sure my eyes have rolled back in my head, and I let out probably the sluttiest groan I have ever made in my life.

“Good?” Cookie asks softly, and I turn my gaze towards him as he slides into the chair opposite me.

I swallow and lick my lips. His gaze follows the path of my tongue and once again, I get that strange swooping feeling in my stomach. Maybe I have the beginnings of an ulcer from all the stress lately.

“So good. You made this?” He nods, and I lower my voice. “Don’t tell Colin, but I think they’re even better than his and that’s a high bar.”

“I heard that!” a voice rings out from the back.

“Jesus.” I turn towards the doorway into the kitchen as his head appears around the corner. “Do you have the hearing of a bat?”

“No, you’re just not as quiet as you think. Knowing your brothers the way I do, I’m certain it’s an Ainsley trait. But, equally, I can’t even be mad at you because I’ve already had two of Cookie’s cupcakes, and even I can admit they’re the best I’ve ever tasted.”

He disappears back into the kitchen, and I turn back to Cookie. His cheeks pink up as he bites his lower lip to hide a pleased smile, and for a second, I wonder if that plump lip would taste as sweet as his cupcakes.

Whoa, where did that thought come from?

“Uh, so.” I flounder, looking for something to say that won’t make me look like a complete idiot. “Where did you learn to bake?”

Lame.

“When I was little, after we’d moved to the States from Puerto Rico, me and Mama lived in an apartment in Long Beach with my abuelita. Mama had to work two jobs, so to keep me entertained and out of trouble, Abuelita taught me how to cook. I learned all the traditional dishes that came from our homeland, but we both loved to bake so we tried every recipe we could find.”

“Sounds like you were close.” I take a sip of my latte.

“We were.”

“Are they still in Long Beach?” I ask. “Your mum and… abuelita means grandmother, right?”

He stares at me for a moment. “Yes, it means grandmother, and no,” he finally says, a quiet sadness in his eyes. “They’re both gone now. It’s just me.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugs and looks away. “Some days, it feels like it was a million years ago, and some days, it feels like it was just yesterday.”

I open my mouth, although to say what, I don’t know. The shop bell rings again and, knowing the bakery is not open yet, I look up and freeze when I find myself staring into the eyes of the girl I’ve had a crush on since I was old enough to pop my first stiffy.

“Quinn!” Georgie exclaims in delight.

I jump to my feet, knocking the table with a clatter. Cookie steadies my cup as I step away from my chair, and Georgie throws her arms around me enthusiastically. I breathe in the scent of her, board wax and the ocean. It never changes, and it transports me back to those awkward teen years when I pined for her relentlessly.

“Whoa, check out the guns.” She laughs and pulls back, squeezing my biceps. “When’d you get so jacked? You’re gonna need a new wetsuit. No way your old one is going to get past these bad boys. You’re like the fucking Hulk.”

I snort as I pull back and study her. She hasn’t changed much. Her hair is still dyed blue and green in homage to her love of the ocean, and she seems to have added more tattoos in addition to the full nautical sleeve she had of mermaids and a kraken.

In fact, one of her tattoos now seems to snake up her neck towards her ear, which has a large gauge piercing. When she smiles, the two diamond studded piercings in her cheeks wink like dimples.

“I heard you were back. Sorry I didn’t stop by yesterday, but I’ve been slammed with the Surf Shack. Since things started taking off in the bay, I’ve had to expand and take on staff so I have the time to work on my custom pieces.”

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