Page 11 of Cookie
I swoon a little as I meet his sparkling blue eyes. “It felt like a massive jolt to me too. My gran—she raised me—always said the boys in town weren’t right for me and the man of my dreams would, well…do exactly what you’ve done.”
“Fuck you and feed you?”
I laugh. “Not in those exact words, but she said I’d know when it was right.”
“And do you know?”
“I have questions, but I think so, yeah.”
“OK. Shoot.” He sits back and wipes his napkin over his mouth, giving me his full attention.
“Well, there are so many…uh…how old are you for starters?”
“Thirty-nine. You?”
“Twenty-four.”
“That’s quite a gap. Are you bothered by that?”
“No. Are you?”
“Not at all. What do you do for work?”
He grins and looks at his plate, picking up his fork again. “I think it’s my turn to ask a question.”
“OK.”
“Why cookies?”
I take a deep breath, the memory of my childhood filling me with happiness. “When Gran was running things, we sold everything—cakes and bread, even sandwiches. But as I grew up and took over, I noticed that the one thing wealwayssold out of was the cookies. They’re a family recipe that each woman adjusts with their own flare, and folks just can’t get enough of them. So, I expanded the range and phased everything else out and now, I’m the cookie queen of the south-west.”
“The cookie queen, huh? Is that what that plaque is about downstairs?”
“Kind of. I had a customer send my cookies into a big competition that named me the world’s best cookie creator.”
“That’s quite the honor.”
“It was. But now I get constant offers from big companies wanting to buy the recipes and distribute them to the masses.”
“You don’t want that?”
She shakes her head. “No. That’s not what it’s about. These cookies are about love and family. I’m supposed to give the recipe to my kids so they can do the same with theirs. It’s what makes this place special. When people try our cookies for the first time, it’s like they’re a kid again. And part of what’s great about that is being the person who makes them with my own two hands. Not some machine pumping them out to some scientific formula. There’s no creativity in that.”
“I get it,” he says, reaching a hand across the table to take mine. “And I’ll give you those children to pass your recipes on to.”
I press my lips together and fall into his eyes, so sincere and true. “I am so ridiculously in love with you, Bax.”
“I’m so ridiculously in love with you too.” Pulling me to my feet, he towers above me as his expression grows serious. “I’ll make sure that recipe never falls into the wrong hands,” he whispers before he kisses me with so much passion that I don’t even give a thought to what he means by that.
Baxter
When I open my eyes the next morning, it’s to an empty bed. “What the hell?” I sit up and look around, trying to find a note or a sign as to where she’s gone. Then the scent of vanilla and melted chocolate touches my nose. She’s in the bakery.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I lift my phone from the bedside and check the time. It’s barely six in the morning. My girl is an early riser.
It also doesn’t escape me that my father has left at least four voice messages as well as several emails and a text message. The text alone is a big deal because he’s old school with technology, but I’m not about to call him back when there’s nothing he can say that will change my mind. I’m not leaving, and he’s not getting the cookie recipe. No one is. And for as long as I breathe, no one outside of Annie’s lineage will ever learn it. That’s how much she means to me.
After visiting the bathroom to wash up and improve my morning breath, I pull on my jeans and T-shirt then shove my feet into my boots and make my way downstairs. I find Annie humming as she drops ingredients into an industrial-sized mixer like she’s standing over a cauldron, casting a spell. I scan the bench top where there are glass jars and bottles with different flours and sugars, colors and flavors. I wonder what it is about her cookies that is making the world salivate over exploiting them. Is it the ingredients? The technique? Magic dust?
