“These are beautiful, ma marguerite.” I don’t know why he calls me that or what it means, but he’s called me that randomly since last night. It means something, and when I get a chance, I will look it up.
“Thank you,” I blush and raise my gaze to Julien to see his eyes laser-focused on my mouth like he’s ready to pounce around the metal table that stands between us.
Several of the employers arrive at my station to sample my desserts now that my treats have been set out.
“So what are the flavors?” Mrs. Collins asks, stepping forward to examine the design on them. She’s an older woman with pinned-back gray hair. From her name tag, I can see she’s from a bakery in New Lenox.
“We have a red velvet with a cream-cheese filling, and this one here is a peanut butter chocolate cupcake.”
“They look too good to bite into,” another voice utters, and that’s when I recognize a baker from Michigan Ave.
“Thank you. I made them in a rush today, but I’ve been working on the recipe for years.” Julien is the first to grab a fork and peel the wrapping. Stabbing through the beautiful design with the side of his utensil, he splits the cake to see the interior. “The texture is perfect.” Making sure to get every section on his fork, Julien brings it to his mouth and bites down. A moan escapes involuntarily, and I do my best to fight my own whimper. The way his throat moves, I want to reach over and lick that strong column.
“The flavor of the red velvet, which isn’t usually a favorite, has been moved up. I can taste every flavor. Now, it’s time for the other one,” he growls, slicing his fork into the next one.
“I thought I loved the first one, but damn, the second is even better,” Mr. Greenway from Michigan Ave Bakery says. It’s then that I realize that everyone else has grabbed cupcakes. I’d been so wrapped up in watching the way Julien ate my cupcake, I missed several others taking a sample.
“You’re hired, Miss Shaw,” Julien states in front of everyone else, leaving no room for them to argue as they swallow their bite down.
“Yay. Are you serious?” I ask, wondering if he really enjoyed my cupcakes.
“Yes. It seems you live up to your hype. I’m glad to have you join my team.”
“Thank you. I’m so excited. When do I start?” A bunch of downtrodden faces and a couple of groans come from around me.
“When it doesn’t work out, you can have a position at my bakery.”
“Same here, Miss Shaw. Here’s my card,” Mr. Greenway offers, handing me a business card, but Julien snatches it from my fingers and hands it to his brother.
“Deal with that,” he orders.
“Yes, Julien.” His brother holds back a laugh.
“Congratulations, Miss Shaw. Now that you’ve finished and have nailed a spot like I expected, you can leave at any time,” my former school director says. “The staff will clean up the kitchen area.” They don’t want us wandering to the other candidates’ stations because they don’t want any stealing of ideas or assisting.
“Thank you. I need to call my brother.” He will be so proud of me.
“What’s your room number?” Julien asks.
“313, but I’m actually checked out already.”
“I will be looking for you.”
“Do you need me to fill out some forms?”
“Yes, fill this out.” George hands me his tablet. I grab the tablet and fill out a quick two-page employment form. “The rest of the paperwork can be done at the office.”
I leave the hotel, feeling a vast array of emotions. I’m brimming with excitement and smiling from ear to ear so much that I’m home without remembering the short drive. Between last night’s wild, dirty encounter to this morning’s shocking and successful performance, I’m vibrating with energy.
As soon as I toss my purse on the sofa, I dial my brother’s number. I know it’s during his workday and he’s busy, but he wanted me to call and I can’t wait.
He answers, and without missing a beat, says, “How did it go?”
“I got the job,” I squeal, practically dancing around the room.
“What? Congratulations. I knew you would. So when do you start?”
“Tomorrow.”