Page 17 of Heartbreak & Cupcakes
“Oh, that looks good.” Mrs. Flores tapped her fire engine red press-on nail against the glass display case pointing toward the maple bars with custard fillings. She pressed her hand to the case and her rings made a clinking sound before she looked up at me, her expression brightening. “Oh, and Stanley, he’s a mortician, did I tell you that?”
No. But you really aren’t helping your case.
As much as I appreciated that someone had to have that job, I couldn’t picture myself in a relationship with someone who was with dead people all day. No thank you.
“It’s good money and he has job security.” She wagged her finger at me and nodded her head with a knowing as if she were dropping pearls of wisdom that I needed to grasp and hold dear. “People are always going to die.”
I nodded.
The bell rang over the door, and I’d never been so relieved for another customer to come in. And when I saw who it was, I was even happier.
It was Mr. Smolder.
Every time he walked through that door it looked like he stepped off the cover ofGQmagazine. The man was physical perfection. His dark hair, light blue eyes, and chiseled jaw looked photoshopped. I didn’t know much—or anything—about men’s fashion but his tailored suit had to cost more than my car. I assumed he had a great metabolism because a few times a week he ordered a dozen donuts and a cupcake. The donuts he chose varied but the cupcake was always the same, one Sadie’s Special. He must be buying them for whatever fancy office he went to because there was no way the man standing in front of me was eating the sugary treats several times a week.
I glanced up and gave him a friendly smile and the funny feeling that always arrived when he did, settled low in my belly.
He took his place behind Mrs. Flores and when she noticed she waved her hand at him. “Oh, you can go in front of me. I don’t know what I want yet.”
I pivoted to grab a box and used the opportunity to take a breath to try and gather myself. After exhaling, I shifted back toward him and smiled brightly. “Hi!”
His eyes narrowed. That was new. I was expecting him to place his order but instead, he lifted his hand. “You have something…um…” He wiped his thumb across his nose.
I lifted my hand to my face and turned to look in the reflection of the glass front refrigerator that held cold drinks. When I saw the smear of chocolate, I gasped.
Why hadn’t Mrs. Flores pointed out that I had a big brown smudge across my face?
“Oh…um…I’ll be right back.” As I rushed into the back of the bakery, I knew that I was being ridiculous. He’d already seen the smudge. But I had to get it off.
“What’s wrong?” Yana shouted as I flew by her. “Who died?”
“Why didn’t you tell me I had chocolate on my nose?” I called out as I rushed into the small employee bathroom and washed it off my face.
“I saw no chocolate,” Yana explained. “I will go out front while you clean yourself.”
“No!” I checked to make sure I removed the entirety of the chocolate smear, shut the water off and hurried out. “I’m going.”
I was breathless when I stepped back into the front of the store, and it was only partly because of the rushing I’d just done. Mr. Smolder had that effect on me.
I made sure my bright smile was back in place. “Sorry about that, what can I get for you?”
“I’ll take a dozen glazed and a Sadie’s Special.”
I nodded as goosebumps rose on my bare arms. It was the strangest thing, but I’d noticed it happened a lot when he came in. I figured it was his voice. The deep, rough, baritone must be on a vibration that caused goosebumps to break out on my skin. It also sent signals to my brain that told me to rethink my dating sabbatical. But then I had to remind my brain that there was no way that a man who looked, dressed, and did I mention looked like that, would ever be interested in me.
Case in point: I had been rocking a smear of chocolate on my nose for who knows how long before he’d pointed it out, and just yesterday I’d also worn my pants inside out all day. I didn’t realize until I took them off before bed.
Plus, if he was interested in me, he’d had plenty of opportunities to make a move. I didn’t need a book or a movie to know he just wasn’t that into me.
“Can you believe she’s single?” I heard Mrs. Flores ask as I placed the twelfth donut into the pink box.
Horror spread through me as I lifted my head and saw Mr. Smolder was looking down at my neighbor. “I’m not…I mean…I am but…I’m on a sabbatical…a dating sabbatical.”
As soon as I said it, I did a mental facepalm. Why had I just told the man I’d been fantasizing about for the past six months that I was on a dating sabbatical?
He turned back to me and when his eyes met mine, I could see a twinkle of something between humor and intensity. He handed me a hundred-dollar bill and I pressed the sale button on the cash register. “Keep the change.”
“Thank you. Have a good day!” I exclaimed a little too brightly.
