Page 27 of Delicious (Delicious #1)

Chapter Two

Quinn

T he cool breeze tugs at my hoodie as I stand and watch the sun rise over the bay. Even though the view is spectacular as always, I close my eyes and lift my chin, tilting my face up to feel the wind ripple over my skin. The sound of the waves soothes my overactive brain.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s nice to be home, even though I’m not staying—something I have yet to tell my family. I sigh and fold my arms over the railing, looking over the bluff to the sheer drop that ends at the beach below.

Yesterday was hard, being back home with my mum and my sisters. My brothers all have their own places. Jesse’s with his husband Deacon, Beck with his fiancé Nat, and our oldest brother Reed, although still single, has his own house too. As a doctor based in A in the beginning, we were all grieving my dad, each of us just trying to make it through since he’d been the very heart of our family. Afterwards, it was the restaurant. Sully’s, my dad’s legacy, had been badly mismanaged in the wake of my dad’s passing. The manager Mum and all of us had trusted with Dad’s dream robbed the place blind and almost ran it into the ground. We were lucky that my soon-to-be brother-in-law Nat landed in the bay when he did. He’s made quite the name for himself in the past two years as a pseudo celebrity chef. Both he and Mum have turned Sully’s around, brought more business into the bay, and are closely involved with all the events that have been hosted around here, reviving our local economy and tourism.

I love my brothers and I’m so proud of them, but they and their partners cast a long shadow. Reed is a doctor, Beck is a sculptor well on his way to being famous, his fiancé Nat comes from a lot of money and, in addition to being an insanely talented chef, has just released a best-selling cookbook. Their best friend built his own craft beer company from the ground up and has just been nominated for some kind of beer award from what I hear.

Jesse, Beck’s twin, runs his own successful veterinary clinic here in the bay, and his business partner, Wyatt, is with the famous movie star Finn Gallagher. Jesse’s husband Deacon is retired now but raced boats for a living and has won just about every trophy there is for breaking speed records across the water. Their best friend is the Oscar- and Grammy-winning rockstar Kyan Amos. It’s a lot to compete with.

Sometimes I feel invisible.

Maybe I should have talked to them, but something deep inside always stopped me. A little voice that said—well, it doesn’t matter what it said. I tried really hard not to listen to it. Instead, I’ve spent the last couple of years away from the bay where everyone knows me and my family, trying to figure out who I am. Somewhere I could just be Quinn, not the baby Ainsley brother. I guess I needed to find out who I could be without them. I’m finally in a place where I’m happy, where I’m proud of what I’ve achieved and what I do.

I let loose a really loud sigh. Now I just have to tell my family the truth.

“Whoa, if you think any harder, papi , you gonna give yourself a brain haemorrhage.” A soothing, musical accent speaks up behind me.

I turn and see the guy from yesterday, the one who works at Colin’s bakery.

“Cookie, isn’t it?” My gaze rakes over him.

He’s small, maybe five-five or five-six, with a slim build. His hair is almost black at the roots and has a pale faded pink to the ends. A few of the thick loose curls poke out the hood of his purple hoodie, which is pulled up over his head and zipped up to his chin. His hands are buried deep in his pockets, making his purple hoodie stretch at the waist, and he’s wearing the shorts so tiny they’re pretty much hot pants. On his feet are silver glittery Converse that sparkle in the early morning sunshine.

I can’t help but stare at the miles of golden skin exposed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy with legs so long and shapely. They look really smooth too; for one insane second, I wonder what his skin would feel like beneath my fingers, which twitch in an unconscious response.

Startled at the errant thought, I tear my gaze away from his legs, only to see him shudder.

“You look cold,” I state rather obviously.

“Ay, your country is very cold even in summer,” he replies, shivering again.

“Or maybe it’s because you’re half-dressed. You’ll freeze your balls off.” Unable to help myself, I find my gaze drawn back to all that golden skin.

Cookie snorts, and my eyes rise to meet his. “My balls are just fine, but thanks for noticing.” He gives me a cheeky wink, and I could swear my cheeks heat, which is ridiculous because I don’t blush… ever. “Besides, it’s warm in the bakery and by the time the sun’s up, I’ll be sweating.” He tilts his head and studies me curiously. “I don’t usually see anyone out this early. I thought it was just me and Colin keeping baker’s hours. Unless you’re a raging insomniac, or worse, one of those crazy people who like to be up early.”

“None of the above.” I grin. “Just enjoying the peace and quiet.”

Studying me for a moment longer, he then lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Okay, sorry to disturb you.”

He turns to leave. “No, wait,” I blurt out, surprising myself with my outburst. He looks back over his shoulder at me with those dark eyes framed by sooty black lashes. “I just mean…” I shake my head, not knowing what I mean. “I guess I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

Why did I tell him that?

He continues to watch me for a few more seconds, his pouty lips pursed thoughtfully. “You know what you need? Sugar and caffeine.”

“Oh, uh.” I frown and look down the cliff walk, to where I can just about make out Colin’s bakery with its baby blue and white awning at the bottom of the hill. “I didn’t think the bakery was open yet.”

“It’s not.”

“But I don’t–”

“Colin won’t mind, he’ll be up to his eyeballs in cookie dough by now anyway.” He smiles and something inside me relaxes at the warmth in his eyes. “Besides, we’ve been trying out some new recipes. You can be our test subject.”

“Should I be afraid?”

He laughs, and it’s a beautiful, carefree sound. “Depends how critical you are of my new frosting.”

He spins around and sashays down the sloping path. I follow along obediently, unable to help it when my eyes track downwards. Jesus, those shorts are short , and his bum is… curvy. I’ve never seen such a magnificent arse on a guy. Although—I frown—have I ever actually checked out a guy’s bum before?

I mean, it’s not like it’s a big deal. Two of my brothers are gay and although I’m straight, I’ve always been able to appreciate when a guy is objectively attractive.

“So, you’ve just finished college, right?” Cookie says, tearing my attention from the mesmerising wiggle of his hips.

I hurry to catch up with him. “Um, uni. We call it uni.”

“Right.” He nods. “Your family must be really proud.”

“Hmm,” I reply, which seems to be my standard response whenever someone asks me about uni since coming back to the bay.

“I never made it past ninth grade,” Cookie says conversationally. “Although I did get my GED later on.”

“I’m not sure what ninth grade is,” I admit.

“I dropped out when I was fifteen.”

“That’s really young.” I frown. “Did you not like school?”

He shrugs. “I didn’t hate it, just… things changed.”

We reach the bottom of the hill and cross the road to Colin’s bakery. White wooden tables and chairs are already set up and the striped awning is extended for shade, which will be a blessing by mid-morning, when the summer temperatures begin to climb.

Cookie opens up the door, and a little bell rings in the shop as we step through.

“Cookie, is that you?” Colin calls out from the back.

“Yeah, Red. I brought a stray back with me, I hope you don’t mind. He looked like a sad little puppy.”

I glance over to see him grin and wink at me.

“Who has a puppy?” Colin appears in the doorway that presumably leads to the kitchen. With a neatly tied apron over his shirt and signature bow tie and his naturally curly, bright red hair parted neatly to the side in uniform waves, he looks like one of those old-fashioned sweet shop owners from the fifties.

He’s holding a large glass bowl that is filled with some kind of whipped cream or frosting, I can’t tell which.

“Oh, Quinn, it’s you. You’re up early. Then again, I suppose you’re used to it now, all those early morning lectures at uni.”

“Hmm,” I mutter.

I don’t bother to correct him. Even when I had been at uni that first year, no one got up early for lectures. Most of the freshers were too hungover to even think about getting out of bed before lunchtime. It’s a wonder anyone manages to actually finish a degree with the amount of drinking that goes on.

“I was just going to make him a coffee and get him something to eat before he freezes to death.”

Colin blinks. “It’s really not that cold.”

“Spoken like someone who didn’t grow up in California.” Cookie snorts.

Waving that comment aside, he lifts the bowl cradled in the crook of his arm. “I’ve just tried a sample of your frosting.” Colin’s eyes are wide. “It tastes incredible.”

Cookie smirks. “It has been said.”

“We should create a signature cupcake for you with a special name, and you get to pick.” His eyes narrow a fraction. “As long as it’s family friendly.”

“You wound me, mijo. ” Cookie laughs wickedly, and my stomach does a funny roll.

Huh, maybe I’m hungry after all. I didn’t have breakfast this morning, just crept out before first light so I wouldn’t have to make conversation with my mum and sisters once they were up.

An oven timer starts ringing somewhere in the back, and Colin gives a squeak before disappearing through the doorway into the back.

“Take a seat while I get the coffee machine switched on.” Cookie leads me to a nearby table. “What do you want to drink, latte? Cappuccino?”

I slide into the seat and smile at him. “Am I going to be wearing it or drinking it?”

His mouth curves. “Depends on how well you tip.”

“I hate to break it to you, but we don’t tip much.”

“I know, that was one of the things I found really weird when I got over here. Y’all actually get paid a proper base wage. I waited tables for a few years and trust me, if customers didn’t tip, we didn’t make rent.”

“That’s something I find weird,” I reply. “I don’t get how low the wages are. How do they expect people to survive?”

“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.”

Georgie is insanely talented. She designs and makes custom surfboards, which have become highly sought-after.

“It’s okay.” I shrug. “It’s not like I was doing anything special.”

“Well, I know your mum and the others are planning a massive welcome home, congrats on surviving uni, welcome to your future shindig at Sully’s.”

I groan.

“Come on, it won’t be that bad.” Georgie grins.

“They’ve invited half the bay, haven’t they?”

“Yeah they have,” Cookie says. I twist towards him.

“You know about this too?”

“Everyone knows about it,” Cookie says breezily. “Your mama was in yesterday afternoon ordering a whole bunch of stuff for the party.”

“Oh god,” I mutter.

Georgie looks down at her waterproof watch and sighs. “I better get a move on. Cookie, is the cake ready?”

“Sure.” Cookie jumps up and heads around the counter. “I’ll grab it for you.”

“Cake?” I look at Georgie.

“It’s Josh’s birthday.”

“Josh?”

“He works at the Surf Shack. Lots of new faces since you last came back home. Still, you’re back here permanently now, so it won’t take you long to catch up.”

“Yeah.” My stomach clenches. I’m not back permanently, although I’ll be closer than I was in Exeter. I’m not staying in the bay, and I have no idea how to tell my family when they’re all so pleased to see me.

“Here you go.” Cookie reappears and ends over a square cake box.

“Awesome. Gotta run, I’m already late.”

“Let me get that for you, it’s time to open anyway,” Cookie says, flipping the sign on the door before opening it for her.

“Thanks,” Georgie calls over her shoulder, and then she’s gone.

“You staying?” Cookie asks, and I jolt at the question, but when I look over to him, he nods towards the table. “Your coffee’s getting cold.”

“Oh right, thanks.”

I take a seat back at the table as a few new people wander into the shop and start to queue at the counter. Picking up my coffee, I take a sip and watch Cookie as he slips off his hoodie and hangs it up. Putting on an apron, he slips behind the counter and greets the first customer with a blinding smile.

It’s like pure sunshine and for some reason, I find I can’t look away.