Page 17 of Between Love and Loathing

He hummed, “You meanMr. Hardy, right?”

I shrugged. “I’m sure I won’t have to call you anything much since I don’t ever really see you.”

“That right?” He tilted his head. “Who do you think is going to come back here and paint over your tantrum?”

“I know you aren’t calling what I did a tantrum. Can you imagine if I ruined your baby over and over?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I get that you can’t stand that my bakery was plopped right in the middle of your resort. That I’m marring it in some way. I get it, but this space is a small portion of it. You still have the entire expansive exterior. Every floor. The lobby. Everything is yours. And you get it exactly how you want. You wouldn't have it any other way, right?”

“Sure?”

“Well, this is my only bakery. The one I can control, the one I’ve been given a shot at, and you and Rita have completely destroyed my ownership of it.”

He didn’t apologize, but I saw how his nostrils flared just a little as he breathed out deeply, like he finally had even a sliver of remorse before saying, “How about if I can make this cupcake just like yours, you stop asking for changes to this bakery for the next two months. How about that?”

Chewing my cheek, I tried my best not to laugh in his face.

“You think I can’t make it, huh?” He chuckled and before I could stop him, he’d grabbed my hips and picked me up to set me on the prep island’s countertop. “Watch.”

He turned round and round, trying to find all the ingredients I’d used. He got the cacao powder and butter right along with the sugar, salt, and milk. Quite frankly, I was impressed with that, but the spices and oils were the difficult part. I didn’t even blink when he grabbed the lavender and held it up for me to approve.

“All you, big shot.” I waved him on.

He laughed again like he enjoyed the challenge, like we weren’t fighting for our dreams here. When I hopped off the counter, he asked where I was going.

“To get this.” I grabbed a bottle of bourbon out of one of the white cupboards.

“You already stashing liquor to drink while on the job?”

“Bourbon adds a hint of sweetness to the chocolate. Some people like scotch better, but it’s a little too smoky for my taste.” I pulled out two glasses as he frowned at his ingredients. “Not for this specific chocolate cupcake, though. You’re welcome for the hint.”

I slid a tumbler his way as he turned on the stove to heat the cocoa butter. I didn’t correct the temperature even though my hand itched to do so. He didn’t have a heatproof bowl, either. Melting butter right in the saucepan was solidifying his defeat. “I’ll give you one more. Cinnamon, lavender, and nutmeg were used.”

“I’m fucking it up already, aren’t I?”

Shrugging, I took a sip of my drink. “We’ll have to see, won’t we?”

“It’s going to taste just like yours.” He grabbed another cupcake from the wax paper and popped it in his mouth. He swore again. “Has Valentino tried these?”

I hesitated before answering. Valentino was on the seventy-fifth floor. He was another sort of celebrity in my mind. Sure, I’d met men like him before, but he was arguably one of the best in the world. I’d heard of his restaurants, how he ran his kitchens, how he became a legend in his twenties. Now, in his thirties, every food blogger and critic knew of him. His restaurants won awards, and he’d won the James Beard along with others.

“It’s not on the menu yet. I’m just testing out the limits of this kitchen and seeing what I can do.”

He hummed, still staring at the treat. “See that you discuss all desserts with him in the case that he wants to include this in the restaurant because there’s nothing this good for a dessert up there.”

Seriously? He hadn’t said it in a way that I thought it was a compliment, and yet my heart warmed far too much at his assessment. “So you’re saying you like something of mine finally?”

“Does it matter? This could be up there.” Should I have said thank you?

“I don’t know if our menus will harmonize that much. People will be going to his restaurant for a fancy night with their partner. My bakery is—”

“A fresh start to their morning with a decadent twist?”

I snapped my mouth shut at his near perfect description. I wasn’t going to agree aloud … even if I thought it.

He didn’t seem fazed as he stared at the chocolate syrup he was trying to create. He hadn’t even got to the flour and sugar yet. “I’m going to regret agreeing to this aren’t I?”