“There are parts of it that are just breathtakingly beautiful, just as there are areas or things that aren’t. The traffic is horrible, but my commute to work isn’t bad,” he states, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips, which causes those deep dimples to tease their appearance.
“Why’s that?” I ask.
“My office is on the thirty-ninth floor of the building I had built for my company. My penthouse is the fortieth floor. My commute consists of an elevator ride and a walk down a hallway to my office.”
“Wow.” I can’t imagine what that is like. “And you’re where at in California?”
“Silicon Valley,” he replies like I know where that is. He must see my confusion, as he quickly adds, “The San Francisco Bay area.”
“Oh, okay,” I say. I’ve at least heard of that area and could probably pick it out on a map.
We chat for a few more minutes until the buzzer in the kitchen, along with the one on my watch, starts going off. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I tell him as I push awayand head for the kitchen. I pull the large trays out, placing them on the cooling racks, and set another timer so that they aren’t cut too soon or too late. I busy myself around the kitchen, getting the batter going for the first cake I need to make, then into the pan before my timer is going off once again. Once I have the cake in the oven, I pull out my sheet pan-cutting device, which looks like an accordion with five pizza cutters on it, all evenly spaced out so that when we cut, each piece is the same size. I can pop the cutting blades off and adjust the device based on the size of the pan I’m using.
I quickly make work of cutting the brownies before carrying the still-warm pans out to the display case. “Did you want one with or without nuts?” I ask over the top of the case once I have the pans in their place.
“Without, thanks,” Nathan says. I slide the still-warm brownie onto a small plate, then realize I should have asked first if he wanted it to go.
“Sorry, did you want that boxed to go?”
“No, here is perfect,” he says as he slides his wallet out of his back pocket. I ring up his order, and he, once again, puts a tip almost as much as his total into the jar on the counter. “Join me again?” he asks.
I worry my bottom lip; I’ve enjoyed getting to catch up the little amount of time we’ve been talking today, but I also have a laundry list of things I need to get done this afternoon, and I don’t have any help as it is Lacey’s day off. “I guess I can for a few more minutes, and then I have to get back to work. My boss is a real slave driver,” I joke with him, seeing as I’m my own boss.
“I’m sure she is,” he muses, and those damn dimples flash in their full glory. My stomach tightens, and I can feel the butterflies fluttering around.
“What about your boss? He pretty demanding?”
“He’s the biggest asshole.” He chuckles. “Has no care for work-life balances. Thinks I should be at work twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”
“That is an asshole.” I laugh as we both over-exaggerate.
I watch as Nathan takes a large bite of the warm brownie. My panties practically melt off at the moan that escapes his lips as he savors the bite. If a chocolatey treat gets that kind of response, I can only imagine what an orgasm would get. I can feel my cheeks redden at the dirty thoughts that fill my mind; I only hope he doesn’t notice and ask me why I’m blushing. I guess my battery-operated boyfriend hasn’t been keeping up with the job as well as I thought it was, as I’m finding myself very needy around Nathan, and I have no desire to explain that to him.
The bells above the door chime, and I jump up to help the incoming customer.
“Well, well. Look who the cat dragged in,” Nathan’s grandmother, Betsy, says as she sees him at the table I’ve just vacated. His mom, Tina, also accompanies her mother into the bakery.
“G-Ma,” he greets, coming over to give both his grandmother and mom a hug and kiss on the cheek.
“Fancy finding you here.” Betsy smirks. I’m trying not to listen in on their conversation, but it’s a little hard not to when it is quiet in here, other than what she’s saying.
“Just enjoying a coffee and a brownie,” he tells her.
“I’m sure you are,” she muses.
“What can I get you today, Betsy?” I ask, interrupting and pulling everyone’s attention in my direction.
“I’ll take what he’s got. Plus, one of those cherry pies you’ve got in the case.”
“Of course, do you want some coffee to go with your brownie?” I ask as I hand over the small dessert plate. I box up the pie, placing it on the counter.
“Of course,” she agrees. I dish up Tina’s selection, as well, before ringing everything up. Nathan steps forward, sliding cash across the counter to me before his grandmother or mom can pay themselves.
“My treat today,” he tells them both, flashing me a wink.
“Why, such the gentleman. I guess you did good, Tina,” Betsy tells her daughter.
“Thanks, Mom.” She laughs as she takes a seat at the second small table that Nathan moved to be next to the one we’d used, to make room for the additional people.