Page 9 of Slashed By You (Chicago Steel #5)
Chapter 9
Josh
A fter the gala, my assistant, Tara, and I launched an attack on social media. For every post where Kayla spread lies about me, we posted positive ones, talking up all the good things I’m involved in. And a month later we’re finally seeing results. The tides are changing. It also helps that I had Tara call Kayla and threaten her with a defamation lawsuit. I’m not sure I even have a case, but just the thought of that should scare Kayla enough to back off. Once I’m moving back into the positive ground on social media, I’m able to relax a little.
Kenzie has been on my mind 24/7 since I met her, and although I’m nervous. With both anxiety and excitement pumping through my veins, it’s time for my coffee date with Kenzie at her bakery.
Standing outside the store, I realize how kitschy it is—faded red brick with a bright blue door. It’s definitely unique. When I was here the other day I hadn’t much noticed it. My focus had been on Kenzie and getting her to say yes to a date, which explains why I’m here at the literal butt crack of dawn. Four in the morning is early no matter what, but I want to show her how serious I am about getting to know her.
Knocking on the front door, I pace until I see a head pop into the window. A surprised look covers her beautiful flour-dusted face, and I can’t help but smile. She is fucking adorable, and she has no idea. Pulling open the door, she whispers, “Josh. You’re here.”
Leaning in, I kiss her on the cheek and reply, “I am. Good morning, Kenzie.”
Opening the door wider, she let me in. Looking around, I take in all the colors. It’s bright, alive, and happy. “I don’t want to get you behind schedule. Show me to your coffee beans and I’ll get started on a cup of coffee for you.”
Kenzie looks at me like she’s still stunned. “Really?”
I put my hands on my hips. “I wasn’t kidding. I’m a master at latte art. Now, pick your poison and let me get started.”
“Okay. I’ll take a mocha, please.”
After showing me where everything is, she saunters off to the kitchen. Preparing the perfect drink takes a skilled touch, especially the art on top. Thankfully, it’s just like riding a bike, and after my first attempt, I’m able to give Kenzie something I’m proud of. I stick my head through the swinging doors and holler, “Ready for the best mocha you’ll ever have?”
She laughs while she loads baking sheets with cookie dough. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” her sweet voice calls back, calming my anxious heart. I want to impress her . Walking slowly into the kitchen, I carefully balance the mocha, keeping the art pristine.
Kenzie finishes loading her last cookie sheet, wipes her hands on her apron, and moves toward me. “That smells amazing.” Handing her the cup, I see a deep smile grace her lips when she sees the heart on top. Her sparkling blue eyes flick to mine, causing warmth to course through my body.
Moving closer, I ask, “Are you going to try it?”
“It’s so pretty. This is my first latte art. Thank you.” Then she lifts the mug to her lips and takes a sip. She closes her eyes and moans. “This is so good.” At her compliment, I swear my heart grows three times its size and I feel like I’m ten feet tall. Who’d have guessed? And all over a cup of coffee.
Once she’s caffeinated, she sets her cup down, washes her hands, and returns to another batch of cookies. Watching her, I notice how organized and orderly she is. It baffles my brain. She reminds me of a robot as she moves through the kitchen, loading the various cookie sheets. Apparently baking is next, and she has it down to a science. The trays go into the oven and the timer’s set.
“Bread is next,” she says as she gathers ingredients. After watching her load them into a giant mixer, I decide Kenzie is magic. She takes simple ingredients and turns them into heavenly treats. It’s not magic. It’s baking. Maybe. But she is an artist, and everything in this kitchen is her medium. It’s mesmerizing. I know I’m intruding on her quiet time, and until now I’ve been content to watch her work. Our silence is comfortable and soothing. But I want to get to know everything about her.
Silence surrounds us as she removes the dough from the mixer and separates it into the perfect size for loaves of bread. Interrupting the quiet, I ask, “Have you always loved to bake?”
Looking up from the dough she’s kneading, she smiles. Breathtaking. She doesn’t have any makeup on or fancy clothes, but she’s radiant. “Yes, I’ve always loved to bake. Some of my best memories are in the kitchen with my mother and grandmother, making the recipes that have been in our family for generations.”
“Do you still bake with them?” I ask, curious about her family.
Her smile waivers. “Not as much as I’d like. My grandmother passed a few years ago, and my parents live in Seattle and I don’t get to visit very often.”
Moving my chair closer, I say, “I’m really sorry to hear that. Do you not get home very often because of the bakery? Do they come here?”
Kenzie lowers her head, and dread fills my gut. What did I say? She moves to the oven to pull tray after tray of hot chocolate chip cookies from it before placing them on a wheeled cooling rack. The air smells heavenly and makes my mouth water.
When she finally answers, I hear the pain in her voice. “It’s complicated.” Wanting to move on, she asks, “Do you bake?”
Letting out an awkward laugh, I ask, “Does making toast qualify?” Kenzie laughs too, and it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. “You have a great laugh.”
Her cheeks turn red and she focuses on the bread dough, measuring it again before she tucks it into a bread pan. Fucking adorable.
“So far, you’ve made cookies and bread. What’s next on the agenda?”
After placing the bread aside, she pulls out a giant mixing bowl and all her ingredients. “I’m making cupcakes. Do you want to help? I have an extra apron.”
Standing up, I go to the sink and wash my hands, then make my way over to her. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want to mess anything up.”
She nudges me with her hip. “I’m going to be here the whole time. It won’t be possible for you to mess up. Plus, baking isn’t too challenging.”
“Says the baker,” I mutter under my breath, which earns me another laugh from her. Holy shit. This woman. Before I can get lost in my thoughts, she hands me eggs. “You want me to crack them?” I ask nervously.
“Yeah,” she answers, then she pauses. “You have cracked eggs before, right?”
Clearing my throat, I admit, “It’s been a while. Because my diet is so rigid and my schedule is what it is, I have a personal chef who makes all my meals. Every two weeks, he stocks my fridge and freezer with perfectly balanced meals that adhere to my nutritionist’s specifications.”
Kenzie looks over at me. “Wow. That’s intense.” She looks at the bowl in front of us. “So, then, you don’t really eat the things I bake?”
“No, not really. I try my best to stay away from sweets. But if you promise not to tell, I have a minor confession.”
Her eyes light up as she waits. I clear my throat. “Despite my strict diet… I may have had four of the cupcakes you made for Lucas and Samantha’s party. And at the gala, I may have sampled a few items.”
“You did?” she gushes with a bright smile. I did that. I made her smile .
Returning her smile, I pat my stomach and admit. “I sure did, and they were all delicious. My favorite is the death by a chocolate cupcake.”
She laughs. “Well, you’re in luck, mister, because that’s what we are making right now.”