Page 132 of A Taste of Vanilla

“Warren.”

Marley groans.

“Everyone out,” I say, pointing to the door.

“No,” Marley says.

My eyes widen, and she takes the hint, leaving the room with only a mumble about flirting.

Warren reaches for my cookie scoop, and I stare at him.

He pauses before I pick up my other scoop.

While he scoops dough and levels it off on the side of the bowl, creating perfect, exact balls of cookie dough, mine are just… fine. Almost identical.

We work in silence for a few minutes, until I’ve had enough.

I nudge one of his balls slightly out of line, watching his lips curve into a frown. He stares at it for a few seconds before moving it back.

I do it again.

His jaw tightens, and I smile as he looks at me.

“Are you trying to irritate me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“High concept velocity.”

His mouth twitches into what I can almost call a real smile. Bigger than before, but still not quite there.

There’s movement from the back door, and I watch as Oliver walks by, rolling his eyes when he sees us. “This is going to be a disaster,” he says just loud enough for us to hear.

My cheeks warm, and I look down at my sheet pan. At Warren’s perfect rows of cookie dough and my chaotic ones. At the dough I made and he praised.

“Probably,” I say, even though Oliver is out of earshot.

Warren’s shoulder brushes mine, and I can tell it’s not by accident.

He doesn’t look at me when he says, “The cookies will be great.”

I smile before I can stop myself. “They always are.”

ten

. . .

Available Until Oliver Loses the Will to Live

WARREN

I don’t like crowds.

I don’t think it’s a character flaw.

Crowds are inefficient. There’s far too much movement, too much noise, and way too many people standing in doorways like they’ve been assigned there. They gesture with drinks in their hands and abandon chairs in your path. Many speak loudly over music that’s already far too loud, and then get irritated when no one hears them.