Page 16 of Vince
By the time I return from the store, Abby and Drew are nowhere to be found, so I have the apartment to myself. It isn’t even ten, and there’s way too much time before Vince will arrive. Having spent the better part of yesterday studying, I contemplate my choices to occupy my time.
Binge-watch TV or bake?
Yeah, that isn’t even an option. Pulling out the ingredients for cinnamon rolls and no-bake cookies, I set into baking.
Eventually, I decide it’s finally acceptable to get ready. Looking around my now-clean kitchen, it’s obvious I’ve been stressing out. I’ve made way more than I intended. Not only have I made a double batch of cinnamon rolls, but I’ve also made no-bake cookies and a loaf of banana bread. My roommates will love the fruits from my nervous energy. And if all else fails, I know Drew and his roommates will enjoy them as well. His poor roommate Grey says he’ll take my day-old rolls any chance I’ll make them. The guy can’t cook for beans, but he knows how to eat.
Knowing I have plenty of time, I make the effort to straighten my hair, apply just the perfect amount of makeup to make my green eyes pop, and change my outfit at least three times. God only knows why I’m suddenly nervous. I haven’t put this much effort into a date since going to my first formal as a freshman in high school. Usually, I just go with the ‘come as you are’ attitude, and they get what they get.
I’ve settled on a pair of dark skinny jeans, my favorite ballet slippers, and a loose emerald-green sweater that falls off to one side of my shoulders. I have my jacket and purse waiting on the couch. When I’m sure he must be arriving soon, I finally allow myself to look at the clock.
Shit. It’s only a quarter after three.
My apartment’s spotless, it smells like Betty Crocker invaded, and I’m ready to go. What the hell do I do now?
Should I make Vince a plate of baked goods?
Or will that make me look too much like a housewife from the 1950s? No, I’ll never be Miss Suzy Homemaker. I’ve got the baking part down pat, but the thought of relying on someone else gives me hives.
I have no idea how long I stand in the kitchen internally debating with myself, but knowing most can’t resist my yummy treats, I eventually break down, pull out a container, and load one up for Vince. Just finished, there’s a knock on my door.
I quickly wipe my hands with the nearest towel, then find myself rushing to answer. The sight of Vince leaves me breathless. His hair’s perfectly tousled, the rich aroma of his sexy cologne replaces my hours of baking, and his hazel eyes taking me in make him even more attractive. When a slow smile spreads across his perfect lips, it’s an automatic response to mirror him.
When I finally remember my manners, I attempt to play off my blatant ogling. “Hey, Vince. Come on in.”
“Wow, it smells amazing in here. What are you baking?”
I shrug in an attempt to play it off. “I was done studying, and my roommates are gone, so I’ve got cinnamon rolls and no-bake cookies, if you’re interested.”
“Are you kidding? I’d give my left kidney for something that smells this delicious.” Just then, his stomach rumbles, and we both burst out laughing.
“Well, I’ve made you a container, but as you’re obviously going to die on the spot if you don’t get one now—let me dish you up a plate.”
He follows me to the kitchen and when he spots my efforts of today, his eyes widen. “You made all this… today?” The way his hand sweeps the counter in a grand gesture is almost comical.
Tucking my chin, so I don’t have to look him in the eye, I play off, “Yep. When I’m bored, I bake.”
“For the record, I’ll gladly consume your boredom anytime you’re willing to share. This is unbelievable, may I?” He gestures to a no-bake cookie still on the waxed paper as they weren’t quite done hardening yet.
“Go right ahead. But be warned, they’re likely to fall apart.”
He carefully picks up the breaking cookie and brings it to his mouth. The groan he lets out as the chocolate hits his mouth sends shivers throughout my entire body.
How the hell can watching a guy eat a cookie be a turn-on?Clearly—I’m losing my mind.
When he finishes, and I get myself under control, I offer, “There’s a container with your name on it, if you’d like to take some to go.”
“Are you kidding? These are freaking fantastic. I haven’t had these since I was a kid.” He’s quiet for a moment as he stares at the counter, but just when I’m about to ask him about it, he shakes his head and pushes the rest of the cookie into his mouth. When his eyes meet mine, I’m sure I just imagined the entire thing. Weird.
“Are you ready?” he asks as he turns to wash his hands and dry them off with the towel I’d left on the sink.
“Yeah, just let me grab my coat and purse.” As I head out of the kitchen to grab my things from my room, I stop at the entry. “The blue container is yours. If you return it, I might be persuaded to refill it for you.”
Seriously? I just offered to bake more for him?
Before he can answer, I leave the room and walk away from my humiliation. Why in the hell did I make it sound so suggestive? I’m supposed to keep it to one date, not offering up more. Geez, Syd, get it together.
By the time I return, Vince waits in the living room with his baked goods in hand and a genuine smile on his face. His hazel eyes drink me in, and I’ll admit, my heart rate spikes in his obvious approval.
Grabbing the door for us, he asks, “Shall we?”
Once outside, Vince leads me to a newer model black Jeep. I’m thankful I wore jeans as it is slightly lifted and may have proven difficult to enter in a skirt. I’m thankful when I notice a bar to step on, so I won’t have to look like a beached whale as I attempt to get in the thing. Of course, Vince is right there and even with one hand, making sure I get in okay.
As he walks to the driver’s side of the Jeep, I notice that Vince is either a neat freak, or he’s cleaned it up for tonight. Either way, I’m nervous for him to see my car; it needs to be dusted and vacuumed desperately. I make a mental note to drive my car through a car wash this week.
When the engine roars to life, Vince turns to ask, “So, have you decided on where you want to grab dinner?”
“Not really. Why don’t we see if something stands out along the way? I’m game for anything.”
“Sounds good to me.”
