I glower right back at her, pressing both palms into the counter now. If she wants to play ball, I'll play ball. “I do have a lot of nerve. And I've also got a lot of money, so name your price. You want to double the cost of the cupcakes? Triple?”
I whip out my wallet, thumbing through the hundreds that are gathering dust inside. I use my black credit card almost exclusively now, but always have some cash on me. I keep one eye on her as I count the bills, willing to pay off her damn mortgage for Clara’s cupcakes if I must. My baby sister needs cupcakes, and she’s going to get them.
“Put the cash away, that’s not going to get you what you want here,” she sputters, blinking dazed eyes at me and shaking her head.
The rest of her small staff has slowly congregated behind her, staring at me with wide eyes.
“Please get back to work,” she rebukes gently, frowning at them.
Her staff returns to their stations, but they’re listening with interest now.
“If money won’t get me what I want, then what will? It’s my sister’s rehearsal dinner tonight so I’ve got no choice, I can’t leave here without these cupcakes. She needs them to make her wedding perfect and I’m going to get them for her one way or another.”
The woman sighs. “Then you should’ve called in the order weeks ago.” She bites her lower lip, eyeing me. “You don’t strike me as the type of guy to go through all this trouble for his sister. That’s actually kind of sweet.”
Sweet? I can be sweet if that’s what it takes to get these damn cupcakes. “Well, I’d do anything for her. She’s my baby sister.”
The woman softens. I’m winning her over. Her eyes narrow as she scrutinizes me. “If you’re lying . . .”
“It’s not a lie,” I answer swiftly, dragging out my phone and flicking to a picture of me beside Clara on the day of her bridal shower.
Holly’s eyes soften again. “Look, Sebastian—”
“Bash. Everyone calls me Bash.”
“Well look, Bash. I want to help you and your sister out. I really do, but can’t you see how busy we are? I don’t have time for another order. We close in an hour and these people are all waiting for their own pickups.”
She can’t be telling me no. It’s impossible, inconceivable even. I can’t remember the last time anyone has rejected me. Not on a business deal, not on a request to spend the evening together, and certainly not when I’m willing to pay them for a service.
Irritation prickles my skin, leaving a wake of goose bumps. “This is unacceptable,” I say simply, the softness of her eyes hardening again.
“Bash, I told you that I can’t do this order. If you want those cupcakes made, you’re going to have to come behind this counter and make them yourself.”
She whirls away from me, wiping her palms on her tight denim shorts and leaving a smear of flour behind as she addresses someone else in line behind me. “You’re Lewis Donald, aren’t you? You ordered the raspberry pie and the lemon scones? I'll get those for you.”
When he nods she smiles and heads to the back, not even sparing me so much as a single glance. She’s clearly hoping that when she comes back, I'll have vanished into thin air.
Unfortunately for her, I never take no for an answer.
She comes back a moment later, stopping a few yards away as she steps out of a walk-in fridge unit to scowl at me. “Why are you still here?” she murmurs while collecting the payment from the waiting man and passing his treats back to him.
She’s about to find out just how determined I am.
“Are you . . . are you taking off your jacket?” she lowers her voice to a nervous hiss. “That thing probably costs more than my rent. Bash, what are you doing?”
I drape the jacket over a nearby stool, warily eyeing the people in line and silently commanding them to steer clear of the luxurious fabric. “You said if I wanted my sister’s cupcakes that I had to come back there and make them myself, so that’s what I'm going to do.”
She laughs. “Yeah right.”
But when she sees I’m serious, she calls one of her staff to the register to take over for her. Holly pulls me to the side, eager to get me out of the way of her waiting patrons. “Do you even know how to bake?” she demands.
In all honesty, I've never baked in my life. The closest I ever got to cooking for myself was toast, and there was a high probability that I even ruined that. The second I was making enough money, I hired a private chef, and before that I lived off takeout. I could crush a business competitor out of existence and I could wheel and deal with the devil, but put me in a kitchen and I'm completely useless.
She sighs when I don’t answer except to grit my jaw stubbornly, her hands again finding her hips. Holly is petite, her hair crimson and her expression ever-determined. She’s the type of woman who has a fire burning in her, one that you can see churning in her eyes. I like that, though right now it’s more infuriating than anything else. Come to think of it, she may feel the same way about me right now.
The woman simply gazes at me, her stare intense and penetrating, like she’s trying to read me. Is she waiting for me to beg? Does she want me on my knees pleading with her to allow me to make these cupcakes?
Like hell that would happen, even for Clara. I am not a man who begs, but then again, I am also not a man who volunteers to bake. I can only hope this stalemate ends before it gets even more bizarre.
“Fine,” she says abruptly, throwing defeated hands in the air. “But only this one time and only because you’re going to pay three times the cost—”
“Even though I'm the one baking them?” I interject with a frown.
“Yes. You’re a liability in my kitchen and also, you’re absolutely the rudest man I've ever met. One more complaint and I'll jack the price up even more!” she adds, a smirk now curling the corners of her full lips. “Though . . . if you behave, maybe I'll give you the nice big brother discount.”
I keep my lips deliberately pressed together, though I can feel my brows knotting hard over my strong nose.
“Fine,” I grunt, reminding myself that this is all for my sister.
“Come here, let’s get to work.”
“You’re helping me?” I ask, surprised.
I'd been expecting her to just point me to a countertop and let me go at it, if only to watch me fail.
Holly steps to the side, fishing an apron out of a bottom drawer and holding it out to me. It’s a pink gingham print, matching the ones that the rest of her staff wears. I glance around the shop, frowning when I realize I’m about to match the drapes.
“Like I said, you’re a liability,” she smirks, thrusting the apron closer to me when I hesitate. “You don’t want to get your clothes all filthy, do you? Don’t you have a rehearsal dinner to get to after this?”
With a groan, I tie the apron around my waist and take my place beside her. She leans over the counter top, arranging bowls and ingredients before us.
“Now we’re going to have to keep this simple because we’re on a tight schedule here. What’s your sister’s favorite type of cupcake? And what about the groom?”
I huff a laugh. “The two of them are like night and day. She likes chocolate, he likes vanilla. She likes big and bold, he likes subtle and sweet. They’re not even having a wedding cake because they couldn’t agree. They’re having an ice cream bar instead.”