Page 7 of Peaches & Cream
Shelby
Arriving at the address Ben gave me, I take note of the food truck parked in the drive, a delightful vehicle with pictures of koalas and kangaroos eating baked treats painted all over it. I’m not a snob, but I wouldn’t be caught dead in a food truck. I know there’s been a big food truck movement of late, but I always feel like they’re salmonella cesspits and refuse to eat from one unless it can’t be avoided.OK. Maybe I’m a little bit of a snob.But only where food is concerned.
I have to say I’m surprised he called. From the way he spoke to me yesterday, I expected that I wouldn’t see him until the competition on Monday. He seems so cocky and sure of himself that I never picked him for the kind of guy who would want to prepare. But I’m OK with admitting when I’m wrong. Especially since that means I get the chance to see how he operates when judges aren’t watching. I can learn his style and possibly use it to beat him. I can think of worse things to do on a Saturday afternoon—especially since my bakery kitchen is suddenly out of commission.
“Hey, Shelby,” Ben says, his accent so smooth it tingles along my spine. I kind of hate that he has an accent since they’re totally my weakness when it comes to men. I’m going to have a hard time reminding myself that he’s my opponent and also a bit of a jerk. Although the jerk part should help me along exponentially. Jerks struggle with keeping that shit in check. Why, when I was in high school, Calvin Grimes, our football team’s linebacker, decided he was going to be my escort to homecoming junior year. He’d been less than kind to me during our entire schooling career, and in middle school he pulled my braids out and pushed me in the mud, ruining my dress for photo day.I’ve never been able to forgive him for that horrible faux pas.Anyway, he decided he was going to be my date, and for the weeks leading up to it, he was sweeter than cherry pie to me, offering to carry my books, waiting to walk me home, calling on me just to chat…but the moment I said no to him, the nice act flipped, and he became nastier than ever.
A locker filled with heavily yeasted dough was my initial punishment. When I arrived at school the next morning it was oozing through the vent and out around the hinges. It took forever to clean up, and no boy in school dared ask me out after that. Calvin made it his mission to make sure that if he couldn’t have me, no one would. God help any girl he eventually settles down with. He is truly a nightmare. And he’s the reason I’ve never dated anyone. Ever.
“Ben,” I acknowledge, giving him a polite nod before I step inside, noting the way my skin prickles as I brush past him.Oh, dear.
That isn’t something I felt before I spotted Ben in the crowd at the semi-finals. Normally, men don’t do much for me at all. I’ve always wondered if maybe I was broken, incapable of more than a passing curiosity of the opposite sex. I recently read an article about the term asexual and wondered if that was possibly me. But after the way I’ve been reacting each time I’m around this man, maybe I just hadn’t met the man who brought that desire out for me?
And just my luck, it’s the one guy who can destroy me by winning this baking contest.
And now that the wiring in the bakery is even more on the fritz, I need that money more than ever. I can’t let this guy get in my head.
“Nice place,” I say, looking around the neatly furnished home. I don’t know why, but this isn’t really the kind of place I pictured him living in. I have this image of an apartment with overstuffed leather couches, wooden furniture, and foodie books stacked up on every available surface. But this place seems…impersonal like he tore a page out of a magazine and re-created it. It doesn’t fit his personality. Well, what I know of it anyway…
“Thanks,” he says dismissively. “Kitchen is this way.”
Following him down the hall, I enter a wide-open space with a big island counter and a double oven in the wall. All the appliances are stainless steel, industrial quality. I’m jealous. These are the things I wish I had at my disposal. I’ve existed with appliances as old as I am for a while now. All my spare money keeps getting sucked into repairs. It’s getting to the point where it would be cheaper to tear the bakery down and start all over again. But I just can’t bring myself to get rid of all that history, so I’m doing everything I can to keep it going.
“So, what are we cooking?” I ask, perusing the ingredients he has lined up on one side of the bench.
He reaches out a muscular arm and lifts the bag of flour. “I thought we’d make some fancy lamingtons.”
“Oh,” I start. “I thought we’d be making Pavlova for sure.”
He turns to me with a grin, his blue eyes sparkling. “You’ve been doing your research.”
“Gotta beat you at your own game, somehow,” I say, offering a small smile. It’s when that small smile turns into an eye lock, which turns into a heated stare that I know I’m in trouble here. This guy is making my panties melt, and I don’t even want him to. I clear my throat. “So, um, tell me, how do these lamingtons work?”
“First,” he says. “I think you should taste one.” He moves over to the refrigerator and pulls open one of the double doors, taking out a covered tray and placing it on the bench in front of me. “They’re great with the cuppa, but if you just want to check the texture and flavor, you can eat them straight up.”
“Cuppa?” I stare at him blankly.
“Yeah. Like a cuppa tea or even coffee.”
“Ohhh, cupoftea.”
“Yeah.” He looks at me with a slight frown. “That’s what I said.”
I have to fight a smile. “OK. Well, how about I just taste it, so thecuppa—”
He grins. “There you go.”
“—doesn’t interfere with the flavor.”
“Suit yourself.” He pulls the cover off the tray to reveal several cube-shaped cakes, covered in a chocolate and coconut frosting. There’s also whipped cream and jelly in the filling, and he has a piping of cream and a fresh strawberry on top. It certainly looks ‘fancy’ compared to the lamingtons I saw pictured online.
“It’s sponge, isn’t it?” I ask, pressing the moist coating with my index finger and watching the pillowy softness bounce back slowly.
“Sure is. Butter sponge, chocolate icing, shredded coconut, fresh vanilla cream, and homemade jam.”
“And let me guess, you’re the one who made the jam?” I ask, lifting the top layer and touching my finger to the sweet mixture, lifting it to my mouth.
“I am,” he says, his eyes darkening as he watches me suck the sweetness into my mouth. It feels borderline erotic, and I have to admit, I enjoy the way his breathing deepens.
“It’s delicious,” I say. Like, ridiculously delicious. If I wasn’t so set on beating this guy into the ground with my own awesome baking skills, I’d be begging him to teach me how to make this, or at least to supply me with a big box about once a month. If I could put this inside my jelly donuts, it would be next level stuff. My tongue is dancing with joy right now.
“Try the rest of it.” I can’t help but note the added thickness in his voice as he shifts back and watches as I lift the cake to my mouth and try to figure out how to take a bite that isn’t going to end up getting cream all over my face. In the end I think, screw it, and just go for it, getting cream and jam all over the end of my nose.
I laugh as I chew, trying to wipe the cream away with my free hand as the flavors mix and melt in my mouth and I’m transported to tastebud heaven. “Oh, my god,” I blurt, my eyes landing on his as I swallow it down. “This is amazing, and I think I hate you now.”
“I hoped you’d say that.” He grins, tearing off a piece of paper towel then gripping my chin between two fingers, causing me to suck in my face, he cleans the mess from my face like I’m a little kid who can’t do it for myself. I don’t know why I let him do it, but I do. It makes me press my knees together, and I almost moan.Get a grip, Shelby!
I pull away. “Ugh, what a mess,” I joke, putting the lamington back on the tray and taking the paper towel from him, focusing on cleaning my hands while I pretend not to be affected. “I guess we make the sponge first?”
He offers me a gentle smile before he clears his throat. “I’ve got everything set out over here.”
