The Sweetest Fix

Over the course of the next few hours, Leo mixed ingredients, creating several flavors of cake batter, baking, forming them into balls. Whipping up buttercream. Melting white chocolate and dark for drizzling, leaning sideways to read his notes on each one of the printed-out order forms. By the time he’d worked through three dozen orders and placed them in boxes, the clock—and his stomach—told him it was dinnertime.

Jackie came through the swinging door looking exhausted. “I’m taking my break. Going to sneak out for some ramen, I think. Do you want anything?”

“Soup isn’t a meal. It’s an appetizer.”

“There are noodles involved, boss, but I’ll take that as a no.”

He’d never be sure where his next words came from, but suddenly he was speaking them. “Why don’t you and Tad go together? I can watch the front.”

Jackie paused in the act of removing her apron. “Huh?”

Leo grunted. “I can watch the front. Go. If you’re forcing yourself to eat liquid for dinner, at least have some company.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Leo Bexley?”

That was a good question. Maybe he just wanted to try and be better with people. Maybe it didn’t seem so daunting after he’d talked to Reese about what typically held him back. He’d written himself off as antisocial for so long, but after last night, did he really have to be? Or was that just an excuse not to have to try? With Reese, he had things to say. With her, it was easy. A lot easier than it had been growing up. And while it wouldn’t be like that with anyone who walked into the Cookie Jar, he wanted to make the effort. Wanted to earn her confidence in him and prove something to himself in the process.

Tad breezed into the back room, noticing Jackie’s odd expression. “What’s going on?”

“Um…nothing. Leo is going to watch the register while we go have dinner.”

“Soup,” Leo corrected. “Arguably a snack.”

“Speaking of a snack,” Jackie hummed, busying herself tying a red ribbon around one of the finished boxes. “Is a snack named Reese responsible for this change?”

Leo started to tell them to mind their own business, but apparently his mouth not cooperating with his brain was becoming a regular occurrence. “We went out last night.”

His employees executed an air high five. Tad said, “O-kay. Based on that baritone, I’m going to assume it went extremely well.”

“When are you seeing her again? When do we get to hang out with her?” Jackie wanted to know. “Show her you have friends, boss. Charming, attractive friends.”

“I’m seeing her tomorrow. You’re definitely not invited to that.” He cleared his throat, threw back a single shoulder. “I don’t know. She just needs to keep it…day to day right now.”

Both employees rocked back on their heels.

“So she’s not interested in a commitment?”

Leo’s head came up. “Who said that?”

“I’m just picking up on a little unwillingness to get attached. Am I wrong?”

Leo hated to admit Jackie was right. Between Reese balking at the prospect of dating at all, clamming up when it came to certain topics, not wanting him to see her perform and refusing to invite him upstairs last night, all signs pointed to Reese wanting to keep things light. But there was no way to explain how his gut believed the opposite. When they were together, the worry of her backing off was completely absent.

“The real test will be Valentine’s Day,” Tad said, looking smug. “You’ll know where you stand by then.”

“I’m not putting that kind of pressure on her.” Fuck, he was starting to sweat. “Do you think I should plan something for Valentine’s Day?”

Jackie and Tad sucked in a simultaneous breath. “Risky move,” Tad said. “Very risky. Relationship is quite new.”

“Could also be a baller move,” Jackie chimed in. “It depends.”

“Christ, go eat your soup.” Leo waved them off. “You’re sowing chaos.”

“No, no! Let us help.” Jackie bounced side to side, stilling suddenly. “Oh, I have the best idea. Plan a group hang out for Valentine’s. After the bakery closes. That way, you’re expressing your desire to spend this romantic holiday with her, but you’re also keeping it casual, in case she’s skittish.”

He didn’t hate the sound of that. He didn’t care how he spent time with her as long as it happened. Often. “I’ll ask her,” he relented, pointing at the back exit. “Go.”

Jackie and Tad disappeared, leaving Leo to eye the swinging door to the front of the house thoughtfully. Wiping both hands on his apron, he shouldered his way to the front, crossing his arms and leaning back against the rear counter. Only a few seconds passed before a group brought the cold air in, laughing and rubbing their hands together. They were young, phones in hand, reminding him a little of the selfie people from the night before. Instinct told him to stay quiet and try to blend in until they addressed him and he could just give them what they wanted, send them on their way. But he heard Reese’s voice in his head.