A Sweet Mess
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Synopsis
If you love Jasmine Guillory, Lauren Layne and Helen Hoang, you'll devour Jayci Lee's delicious new romantic comedy to devour, above love, misunderstandings - and cake!
Is it time to bake a chance on love?
Aubrey Choi has been content running her highly successful bakery Comfort Zone, with dating the least of her priorities. Then a one-night-stand with gorgeous Korean hunk Landon Kim makes her want things she didn't think she had time for. Too bad it turns out he's a celebrity food critic whose scathing review of Comfort Zone goes viral and nearly destroys Aubrey's business - and her fond memory of their night together.
Landon tries to clean up the mess he made by offering Aubrey a spot on the new celebrity cooking show he's producing. To save her bakery and her reputation, she agrees - whilst vowing to protect her heart.
Will their pairing be a recipe for disaster? Or will the baker and critic finally admit that they have all the necessary ingredients for love?
'A perfect balance of impeccable wit, laugh out loud hilarity, and off the charts chemistry. A Sweet Mess is a sinfully decadent romantic comedy! Helena Hunting, New York Times bestselling author
'A rich, vibrant romance that's a feast for all the senses!' Lauren Blakely, New York Times bestselling author
Look out for Jayci's next delightful treat - The Dating Dare, coming summer 2021!
(P)2020 Macmillan Audio
Release date: July 14, 2020
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group
Print pages: 320
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A Sweet Mess
Jayci Lee
1
“What do you mean you gave away the Frankencake?”
Aubrey kept her voice low and calm while she roared and stomped like a T. rex in her head. Her high school part-timer had already locked herself in the bathroom/locker room. There was no point freaking her out any further.
“I served it to someone,” Lily whispered with a tremor in her voice. “It’s gone.”
She breathed through her nose, ten seconds in and fifteen seconds out. Aubrey had been in the kitchen checking on a batch of gelato when Lily sold the wrong cake. If not for the worst timing in the world, she could’ve stopped the switcheroo.
The birthday girl’s chocolate Bundt cake looked exactly like the bakery’s special of the week. On the outside. The surprise lay inside—gummy worms, cream cheese, and peanut butter. The six-year-old’s logic was if you mix something tasty with something else tasty, it would be twice as tasty. In this case, thrice as tasty. An unfortunate and erroneous hypothesis.
Her pint-size customer wailed with renewed grief beyond the kitchen doors. With a sinking sigh, she left Lily in the safety of her hiding place and pushed through the swinging doors to the shop front.
“Please don’t cry, Andy.” Aubrey wished she could conjure up a rainbow, a unicorn, or a rainbow unicorn that trailed cotton candy from its mane. Anything to cheer her up. “I’m so sorry.”
“B-b-but … that was my … cake.”
This was the biggest crisis Comfort Zone had ever faced. Customers came first and foremost for her, and she’d never made a customer cry before. The business was overextended to move to a larger, more visible location, and Aubrey was running low on time, energy, and patience. She had her life and work balanced so perilously that one false move could knock her world down. But she wouldn’t let an unfortunate mistake shake her. Despite the less-than-ideal timing, Aubrey Choi, owner and baker of Comfort Zone, had to woman up and take charge.
“I’ll have a new cake delivered to your house in three hours, tops. Will that work?” she asked Andy’s mom.
“Oh, totally,” she said with an easy smile. “Her birthday party won’t start for another hour, and we’re not serving the cake till the end.”
Thank you, Aubrey mouthed to her, then knelt beside Andy. “I pinkie promise that your cake will be perfect and right on time. I won’t take my eyes off it until it’s safely in your hands.”
“O … o … kay.” Her voice wobbled, but she pinched her lips tightly until her tears receded. What a trooper. “Pinkie promise.”
“Good girl.” She ruffled the kiddo’s hair and waved good-bye. “See you soon.”
Once the door swung closed behind the mother and her hiccupping child, Aubrey faced her waiting customers. “Sorry for the wait, guys. Reinforcement is on the way. We’ll throw in some cashew brittles with your orders. Thanks for being so patient.”
She ran into the kitchen and wrapped her apron around her waist, cinching it with a quick flat knot. “Lily, stop hiding in there. I need you to man the front.”
“Is it safe?” Her part-timer peeked out from the bathroom. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even remember who I gave the cake to.”
“Don’t worry about it, hon,” Aubrey said, pushing aside her frustration. The sad, worried expression on Lily’s normally deadpan face made her heart heavy. “But you’d better hurry before the customers form an angry mob. They’re raising tiny forks and brandishing birthday candles. Go.”
Lily rolled her eyes with lightning teenage reflexes—forgetting she was “so sorry”—and marched through the swinging kitchen doors. That’s more like it. With Lily back to her sardonic self, it was time for Aubrey to make Andy happy. Exhaling the tension from her shoulders, she got to work.
Comfort Zone was a tiny bakery hidden away in Weldon, a quiet California town on the outer edges of the Sierra Nevada. It saw a fair share of adventurers passing through, but Weldon was rarely the final destination, and the town still belonged to its tightly knit locals. It was these locals who filled the mismatched chairs and smiled through the pictures clustered across the bakery walls. It was for them, her extended family, Aubrey kneaded her dough and mixed her batters in unholy hours of the morning. Nothing made her happier than seeing a customer’s face light up with delight after taking a bite of her goodies.
But with the highs come the lows. That afternoon Aubrey learned that nothing deflated her more than a customer’s face crumpling with disappointment. Intent on wiping away Andy’s tears, she baked Frankencake II with special care. It felt odd to be acutely aware of cracking a single egg, something she usually did by the dozens with the speed and precision of a machine. Even the flour felt softer when she gave it her undivided attention. She loved baking, but baking a one-and-only cake for a special customer was decadent.
The chocolate cake batter moved like silk and glistened when it caught the light. She thinned and smoothed the peanut butter and cream cheese filling, but the gummy worms were on their own. There was no improving them. She crinkled her nose in distaste, but her preferences didn’t matter for this one. It was all about Andy.
By the time Aubrey drizzled the glaze on the cake, she had seventeen minutes left on the clock. She poked her head through the kitchen doors. “Lily, I need to deliver this cake right this second before my pinkie shrivels off.”
“Yeah.” Her employee raised an eyebrow at her but kindly left the you are so weird unsaid. “Sure.”
Aubrey tripped on her sprint to the car, but she righted herself before the cake splattered on the road. Breathing deeply through her nose, she knit the last bits of her patience together and forced herself to stay calm. After securing the cake box on the floor of the passenger seat, she slid into her fifteen-year-old Jeep and sped out of her parking spot.
She couldn’t breathe properly until she pulled into Andy’s driveway with one-and-a-half minutes to spare. Her deodorant had failed under pressure, leaving stains the size of dinner plates under her arms, and her shirt clung to her clammy chest and back. Aubrey lifted the cake box with excruciating care as if it held newly hatched chicks—delicate and precious. Her body wanted to run, but her brain forced her to walk toward the house. A wise call, since her head might blow up in a mushroom cloud if she tripped and ruined the cake.
The front door swung open before her knuckles made contact, giving Aubrey a split second to hike the cake over her head before the birthday girl launched herself at her.
“Oh, thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Andy gave her a giant grin, her two missing teeth doubling her cute factor. The smile and the little arms circling her midriff warmed Aubrey from head to toe. “You’re the best cake lady in the world.”
This. She had the best job in the world.
“I would never break a pinkie promise,” she replied, her voice husky with emotion.
“Thank you so much, Aubrey.” Andy’s mom lifted the cake box out of Aubrey’s hands and detached her daughter from her waist.
“My pleasure. Sorry again about the mix-up.”
Aubrey jogged back to her Jeep without pausing to savor the moment. She had to get back to the bakery for closing. The adrenaline drained from her, leaving her limp and tired, and she wasn’t looking forward to the scrubbing and mopping waiting for her.
When she pulled up to the shop, she saw the SORRY WE MISSED YOU sign displayed on the door. It was perfectly askew, just the way she liked it, and the lights inside were dimmed to a soft glow. With confused wonder, she heaved her leaden body out of the Jeep and shuffled to the shop.
“Wow. Awesome adulting,” Aubrey said as gratitude squeezed her heart in a bear hug. Lily was halfway finished with the cleanup, showing more initiative than she ever had. Sniffing back silly tears, Aubrey grabbed a bottle of organic surface cleaner and a dish towel. “I really appreciate your help. The adrenaline wore off, and I’m running on empty. Thank you.”
“It’s…” Her teenage scowl slipped, and she suddenly looked so young and sweet. “You’re welcome.”
They cleaned in quiet harmony and closed up shop only half an hour late. Lily zoomed in and out of the locker room, securing her earbuds and pulling her hoodie over her head. She was halfway to the door when she waved good-bye without bothering to turn around. Aubrey smiled. Lily could pretend otherwise, but she liked her dorky boss.
Aubrey stuffed her arms into a black windbreaker and slung her purse across her torso. She reached for the doorknob but hesitated. The day didn’t end in complete disaster, but the disappearance of the original Frankencake niggled at the back of her mind. And her body still twitched from the ups and downs of the day. If she wanted some decent REM cycles, she had to decompress before heading home.
Aubrey took a wary sniff of her shirt. “Ugh. Ew.”
She couldn’t walk into a public establishment like this. People would probably see noxious, green fumes wafting from her top and reach for their clothespins. Twisting her neck far away from her stinky self, Aubrey hurried to the locker room and disposed of the offending shirt, wrapping it tightly in a plastic bag. Wetting some paper towels, she wiped away the evidence of her stress and tugged her arms through a spare shirt she kept for emergencies. It had a picture of Cookie Monster hugging a jar of cookies with the caption MY PRECIOUS below him.
It wasn’t a fancy work-to-evening transformation, but she was weeknight-presentable. With anticipation in her steps, Aubrey set out on foot to her favorite pub, Weldon Brewery. The three-block walk there should skim off more of her anxiety.
The brewery stood on the edge of downtown, and it was fast becoming Sierra Nevada’s worst-kept secret. They’d swept top-beer awards across the country for five consecutive years, and craft beer aficionados pilgrimaged to the brewery and packed the place to the brim. The head brewer, Tara Park, happened to be Aubrey’s best friend. Lucky me.
The air was nippy for an early-summer evening, so she stuffed her hands inside her jean pockets but didn’t pick up her pace. The setting sun drenched the cozy town in a blanket of deep coral and whispers of violet—a scene from a storybook come to life. A dreamy smile broke through Aubrey’s restlessness. Weldon was home. Even after four years, it was hard to believe Comfort Zone stood nestled among the brightly colored mom-and-pop stores lining the tidy streets.
When she pushed through the sturdy wooden doors of the brewery, the high ceiling, repurposed wood beams, and floor-to-ceiling windows welcomed her with their warm, rustic charm. It was a weeknight, so it wasn’t too crowded, but it was busy enough to hum with conversation and laughter.
“Give me the good stuff, woman.” Aubrey settled onto a barstool and pounded her fist on the bar for effect. “Ow.”
“Wuss. You’re an embarrassment to badass, bar-pounding women everywhere. Here.” Tara plunked down a pint of blond ale and narrowed her eyes as Aubrey gulped down a third of it. “Damn, girl. I’ll take back calling you a wuss; slow down. I don’t want to drag your drunk ass home tonight.”
“Some friend you are.”
“I give you free beer and a shoulder to lean on. You wouldn’t find a better friend even if you scoured the earth for one.”
Tara was right. Life wouldn’t be complete without her. Aubrey lifted her mug in agreement and took a daintier gulp.
“Rough day in sugar land?”
“You could say that. Remember Andy’s special-order cake?” Tara made a gag face. Okay. She remembers. “Lily gave her cake to the wrong customer, so I baked another one and delivered it to Andy’s house. In the middle of afternoon rush. But you know what the scariest part is?”
“Andy made you stay and eat a slice of Frankencake?”
“No, it’s even worse. Lily has no idea who she sold the monstrosity to. It has to be some poor out-of-towner who desperately needed a chocolate Bundt cake. Tragically, they got the Frankencake instead and probably ended up choking on a peanut butter–covered gummy worm.”
“Yeah, that sounds very likely. Murder by Bizarro cake.” Her friend’s tone was dry, but her eyes softened with a smile. “You did everything you could. Now relax and enjoy my scintillating company.”
“Scintillating? Last week, it was electrifying.” Despite her grumbling, Aubrey did as directed, breathing deeply through her nose and drawing her shoulders away from her ears. Her next gulp of beer tasted even better, and all the day’s stress melted away.
“So which one’s your pride and joy?” A deep, delicious voice spoke from behind her.
A thrill rushed through Aubrey, and goose bumps spread down her arms. Maybe I shouldn’t have chugged all that beer on an empty stomach.
“Spank Me,” Tara said, checking out the customer under her lashes.
“I usually reserve that kind of fun for the third date.” The flirtatious response came much too easily, but his voice made it sound sophisticated and enticing.
Tara snorted and mouthed holy crap to Aubrey behind her hand. If her friend’s reaction was any indication, the dude must be up in the clouds on the hotness scale. Curiosity won, and Aubrey swiveled around on the stool to explain that Spank Me was the brewery’s überhoppy, gold-medal IPA.
“She didn’t mean that literally.” Her words and laughter scattered as dark brown eyes zeroed in on her face.
Aubrey couldn’t draw a proper breath with her pulse racing like an overcaffeinated squirrel’s. She never went drool-faced over a man, even a gorgeous specimen such as the tall, muscular stranger in front of her.
“It’s our award-winning IPA. My pride and joy,” her friend said, noting Aubrey’s sudden loss of speaking abilities with a barely suppressed laugh.
It had to be because she didn’t expect him to be Asian American. Tara and Aubrey were two of six Asian locals, and her friend’s family made up the other four. The odds of meeting a hot Asian American man on a weeknight—Tara’s two older brothers excepted—were slim to none in Weldon.
“Spank Me it is, then,” he replied to Tara as his eyes flickered to the name tag on her shirt. “Thank you, Tara.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, and turned away to fill his order with a playful wink at Aubrey.
“I’m Landon,” he said, turning his full attention to Aubrey. Her jaws went slack, and her tummy dipped and swerved at the appreciative gleam in his eyes. He took a seat semi-next to her, leaving a barstool between them. She fought down the smile tugging at her lips. Too many men invade a woman’s personal space without a thought. But not this one. Well done, Mr. Landon.
“Aubrey.” She sounded as breathy as Marilyn Monroe in her JFK birthday serenade. It was totally unintentional and massively embarrassing.
A knowing grin spread across his face, all cocky and sexy as hell. Then she just about died when a dimple tucked into his left cheek. Note to self: Going without sex for a year makes you susceptible to gorgeous men with dimples.
“What are you having?” He cocked his head to one side and a lock of jet-black hair fell across his forehead. Her fingers itched to brush it away.
“Buzz Off.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed and jumped to clarify herself. “The blond ale. That’s the name—Buzz Off. I wasn’t telling you to leave or anything.”
And just like that, she made everything worse. Much, much worse.
“I’m relieved to hear that, because I’d like to buy you a drink.” His laughter, low and rumbly, spread through her like warm brandy, and she forgot to be embarrassed. “May I?”
That voice. That laugh. That dimple. Aubrey could only manage a nod as heat and awareness flooded her.
* * *
Landon’s eyes roamed over the striking woman in the Cookie Monster T-shirt, greedy to drink in as much of her as he could. The sight of her provided the perfect antidote to his frustrating day, which had been a parade of bad luck.
He’d enjoyed a thrilling ride into a ditch when his tire blew on the freeway, but that was tame compared to his trip to Weldon in the rustiest tow truck in existence. While Weldon’s auto shop/gas station/mini-mart was the closest business that could replace his tire, it was closed for the day at eleven thirty. In the morning. Don’t small-town folks need gas or some cherry slushy in the middle of the day? If he hadn’t had over three hours of driving left, he would’ve risked driving on a spare.
Instead, he’d checked in at Lola’s Trattoria and Inn and wandered through the pedestrian-friendly town, exploring the picturesque slice of Americana. An eclectic mix of stores filled the streets without a chain store in sight. That was quite a feat when he couldn’t even stroll the cobblestoned villages of Europe without passing a Starbucks or a McDonald’s.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d walked without a destination. There was no rush to be somewhere or to do something. The brief break from his hectic life had felt utterly foreign, and it had taken him half an hour to relax into it. As his steps became lighter and a smile tugged at his lips, a delectable smell wafted toward him. The aroma of freshly baked bread, butter, and sweet spices beckoned him to search for its source.
His nose led him to Comfort Zone, a bakery hidden between a barbershop and a pet store. The warmth and ease of the place ensconced him as soon as he stepped inside. It was lively without being loud and full of people without feeling crowded. Whether they were engrossed in a book or guffawing at someone’s joke, the customers looked completely at ease, like they were hanging out at their best friend’s house. Immersed in the atmosphere, he’d experienced a rare moment of peace, which was interrupted before he could properly savor it.
Landon was enjoying a cup of rich, dark coffee and a whole chocolate Bundt cake, the bakery’s special of the day—soaking in the sun from the bright outdoor seating—when he’d choked on a gummy worm hidden within the thick, clingy peanut butter filling. His eyes and nose running from his coughing fit, he dumped the cake in the trash bin and walked away. He’d escaped asphyxiation, but he was angry as hell.
There were plenty of inedible cakes in the world, but the bakery and the Bundt cake had brimmed with potential. The chocolate cake itself had been beautiful—light, moist, and perfectly bittersweet. The cream cheese and peanut butter filling had tasted improbably delicious.
The baker had talent, but throwing in the gummy worms exhibited arrogance and callousness. And showcasing the Bundt cake as the daily special without alerting the customers to the unusual filling? That was wrong. A rebellion without a cause. It was an unfortunate pitfall for some talented chefs. Was it frustration? Boredom? Whatever prompted the addition of the gummy worms, the cake shouldn’t have been served to a customer. Experiments should stay in the kitchen until they were perfected. Comfort Zone had used its customers, including him, as test subjects.
Landon had been on his way to review a three-starred Michelin restaurant in Mammoth, but his overnight stay in Weldon meant that well-laid plan wasn’t happening. He had to fly out the next afternoon for his monthlong assignment in East Asia, which meant he had to drive back to Santa Monica at the crack of dawn. He was counting on the auto shop/gas station/mini-mart to open at 6:00 A.M. as the sign promised.
It was unplanned and a bit impulsive, but Weldon’s very own Comfort Zone was going to be critiqued in California Coast Monthly. As aggravating as the experience had been, excitement stirred at the prospect of writing a review he was emotionally invested in.
“So what brings you to Weldon?” Aubrey said, licking off the foam mustache her blond ale left behind.
The flash of pink jerked Landon out of his thoughts, and he zeroed in on the alluring woman in front of him. “Bad luck.”
“That sounds ominous.”
When she smiled, her almond-shaped brown eyes tilted up in the corners, adding to her ethereal beauty. Her cropped black hair capped her delicate head, and her petite body dipped and flared in all the right places. He could imagine her as a mischievous woodland faerie, clothed in gossamer wings.
“Nothing that exciting. My car blew a tire, but the auto shop is closed till tomorrow morning, so here I am.”
“You’re right. Not exciting at all.” Aubrey munched on a pretzel, amusement curving her lips. “Next time, try throwing in a helicopter, some churning water, or an active volcano somewhere in your story.”
“Maybe I’ll add a femme fatale.”
The bridge of her nose crinkled as she laughed, and her cupid’s bow mouth curved in an impish smile. Regrettably, her tinkling laughter caught her friend’s attention, and Landon nearly cringed. The brewery had a large enough crowd to keep a single server more than busy, and Tara was bustling about like a woman possessed by a tornado. Every time she stopped by the bar, she threw a subtle glare his way, telegraphing a simple but effective message.
One false move and I drown you in a beer barrel.
She was one fierce cockblocker. Her loyalty to Aubrey was inexplicably endearing to him, but her concern was misplaced. Landon was all about consensual fun. He put on his best Boy Scout face to put her at ease, but the brewer’s eyes widened in alarm. He’d actually never been a Boy Scout. Perhaps he should’ve gone for a laid-back expression instead. Fuck it. Landon smiled and nodded politely to her, and then stood from his seat.
“Why don’t we find ourselves a table?” Well meaning or not, he wanted Aubrey to himself.
“I’d like that.” She smiled at her friend and tilted her head toward the dining area. “Tara, we’re gonna grab a table.”
“How’s this?” He’d chosen a small table at the back corner. When Aubrey nodded, he pulled out her chair and took a seat across from her.
Their proximity and relative privacy made the air between them hum with electricity. Their knees brushed every time either of them shifted in their seat, sending bolts of desire through him. A sharp intake of breath and a parting of her lips revealed Aubrey wasn’t immune to their magnetic attraction.
Landon had dated his fair share of beautiful women. There was no reason to act like a gawky teenager, but his roaring heart and churning stomach said otherwise. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt nervous around a woman. Her hand was resting less than four inches away from his, but he broke out in a cold sweat working up the nerve to brush his knuckles against it.
He started when Aubrey traced her fingers across the back of his hand with a shy smile. “So, Landon from out of town, what’s your dream?”
His blood had gone south at her touch, leaving nothing for his brain, but he was even more dumbstruck by her question. The woman threw him off balance on all fronts.
“Not big on making small talk, are you?” He managed to keep his voice steady despite his spinning head and hardening body.
“If I’m going to have a chat with a complete stranger, I might as well have an interesting one.” A deep blush stained her cheeks, and her lashes fluttered to hide her eyes. “Besides, you’re leaving tomorrow. I was hoping we could pack a lot into tonight.”
Landon sucked in a sharp breath. Her shy and earnest declaration moved him, and he fought the urge to pull her across the table to kiss her senseless. Instead, he lifted Aubrey’s hand and brushed a kiss on her pale inner wrist. A wolfish grin spread across his face when she gasped at his touch.
“My dream was to open my own restaurant.” To his shock, the truth stumbled out of him. A truth he’d refused to face for the past decade. Maybe he was desperate to give her an interesting conversation. A memorable one. “Someplace spacious and comfortable where people can enjoy a delicious meal without pretense or a six-figure salary.”
“That sounds amazing. What kind of food are we talking about?”
“Whatever inspiration strikes me. If I had to label it, New American–slash–Korean fusion will have to do.”
“I love Korean food. I would totally eat there.” Aubrey sat forward, her eyes round and sparkling. “So you’re Korean? I am, too.”
“Yes, I’m Korean, and you would be more than welcome to eat at my restaurant.”
“Are you a chef?”
“No, but I trained to be one. Have you heard of the CIA?”
“The Central Intelligence Agency? You learned to cook for undercover agents while dodging bullets and jumping out of airplanes?” She cocked her head to the side and gazed at him with solemn interest.
“I … um.” Landon was fairly certain she was messing with him, but insulting her wouldn’t be the best way to seduce her. “It’s…”
Aubrey’s pale skin turned from pink to crimson before she erupted into laughter, her frame trembling like a 6.8 earthquake. She held up a finger, gripping her side, pantomiming she needed a minute. He crossed his arms over his chest and leveled her with a steely glare, which wasn’t an easy feat considering her infectious mirth.
“I’m s-sorry, but you had to see your face. You couldn’t decide whether a small-town girl like me knew about the Culinary Institute of America or whether I was pulling your leg.”
Mischievous little fox. He needed to get her back for that.
“Actually, that’s incorrect.” He drew closer to her, his lips close to her ear, and lowered his voice to a deep, gritty whisper. “I was debating whether or not I should tell you the truth, because if I did, I’d have to terminate you.”
Aubrey stared at him in silence for a second, and then a delighted grin spread across her face. “This is fun.”
“Yeah, it is.” Landon was surprised to find he meant it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had fun. He certainly had pleasant and interesting times, but fun times? No, this felt alien.
His earlier hesitation forgotten, he ran his knuckles down the side of her face, relishing the feel of her warm, silky skin. Aubrey leaned lightly into his hand, and her eyes slid shut. She was so responsive to his touch. Landon’s mouth went dry, and all he could think was more. He wanted to make her laugh again. He ached to make her fall apart in his arms with her swollen lips calling out his name.
“You’re beautiful,” Landon murmured, unable to look away from her.
“So are you.” Aubrey’s lips curved into a barely there smile that squeezed his heart.
He’d gone to the brewery for a pint to wash away the bitter taste of his sorry day, but he’d discovered something far more intoxicating—something potent enough to tip him off-balance. Aubrey made his blood sing and his rational thoughts melt away. The floor seemed to grow solid and strong, and his body settled heavily into his seat like he’d dropped anchor across from her—as though she had a gravitational pull all her own and he was helpless against it.
He’d led a nomadic life for a decade. He didn’t know how to stay still for long. The smart thing to do would be to run the hell away from this woman, whose mere proximity made it unimaginable to even leave the table.
But smart wasn’t part of his vocabulary at the moment. Greedy, feral, and desperate passion overwhelmed all else. He stood abruptly from his seat, and Aubrey’s mouth parted in surprise. Then he grasped her hand and raised her to her feet.
“Do you want to get out of here?” His eyes bored into hers, his desire and urgency displayed for her to see.
“Yes.”
Copyright © 2020 by Judith J. Yi
“What do you mean you gave away the Frankencake?”
Aubrey kept her voice low and calm while she roared and stomped like a T. rex in her head. Her high school part-timer had already locked herself in the bathroom/locker room. There was no point freaking her out any further.
“I served it to someone,” Lily whispered with a tremor in her voice. “It’s gone.”
She breathed through her nose, ten seconds in and fifteen seconds out. Aubrey had been in the kitchen checking on a batch of gelato when Lily sold the wrong cake. If not for the worst timing in the world, she could’ve stopped the switcheroo.
The birthday girl’s chocolate Bundt cake looked exactly like the bakery’s special of the week. On the outside. The surprise lay inside—gummy worms, cream cheese, and peanut butter. The six-year-old’s logic was if you mix something tasty with something else tasty, it would be twice as tasty. In this case, thrice as tasty. An unfortunate and erroneous hypothesis.
Her pint-size customer wailed with renewed grief beyond the kitchen doors. With a sinking sigh, she left Lily in the safety of her hiding place and pushed through the swinging doors to the shop front.
“Please don’t cry, Andy.” Aubrey wished she could conjure up a rainbow, a unicorn, or a rainbow unicorn that trailed cotton candy from its mane. Anything to cheer her up. “I’m so sorry.”
“B-b-but … that was my … cake.”
This was the biggest crisis Comfort Zone had ever faced. Customers came first and foremost for her, and she’d never made a customer cry before. The business was overextended to move to a larger, more visible location, and Aubrey was running low on time, energy, and patience. She had her life and work balanced so perilously that one false move could knock her world down. But she wouldn’t let an unfortunate mistake shake her. Despite the less-than-ideal timing, Aubrey Choi, owner and baker of Comfort Zone, had to woman up and take charge.
“I’ll have a new cake delivered to your house in three hours, tops. Will that work?” she asked Andy’s mom.
“Oh, totally,” she said with an easy smile. “Her birthday party won’t start for another hour, and we’re not serving the cake till the end.”
Thank you, Aubrey mouthed to her, then knelt beside Andy. “I pinkie promise that your cake will be perfect and right on time. I won’t take my eyes off it until it’s safely in your hands.”
“O … o … kay.” Her voice wobbled, but she pinched her lips tightly until her tears receded. What a trooper. “Pinkie promise.”
“Good girl.” She ruffled the kiddo’s hair and waved good-bye. “See you soon.”
Once the door swung closed behind the mother and her hiccupping child, Aubrey faced her waiting customers. “Sorry for the wait, guys. Reinforcement is on the way. We’ll throw in some cashew brittles with your orders. Thanks for being so patient.”
She ran into the kitchen and wrapped her apron around her waist, cinching it with a quick flat knot. “Lily, stop hiding in there. I need you to man the front.”
“Is it safe?” Her part-timer peeked out from the bathroom. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even remember who I gave the cake to.”
“Don’t worry about it, hon,” Aubrey said, pushing aside her frustration. The sad, worried expression on Lily’s normally deadpan face made her heart heavy. “But you’d better hurry before the customers form an angry mob. They’re raising tiny forks and brandishing birthday candles. Go.”
Lily rolled her eyes with lightning teenage reflexes—forgetting she was “so sorry”—and marched through the swinging kitchen doors. That’s more like it. With Lily back to her sardonic self, it was time for Aubrey to make Andy happy. Exhaling the tension from her shoulders, she got to work.
Comfort Zone was a tiny bakery hidden away in Weldon, a quiet California town on the outer edges of the Sierra Nevada. It saw a fair share of adventurers passing through, but Weldon was rarely the final destination, and the town still belonged to its tightly knit locals. It was these locals who filled the mismatched chairs and smiled through the pictures clustered across the bakery walls. It was for them, her extended family, Aubrey kneaded her dough and mixed her batters in unholy hours of the morning. Nothing made her happier than seeing a customer’s face light up with delight after taking a bite of her goodies.
But with the highs come the lows. That afternoon Aubrey learned that nothing deflated her more than a customer’s face crumpling with disappointment. Intent on wiping away Andy’s tears, she baked Frankencake II with special care. It felt odd to be acutely aware of cracking a single egg, something she usually did by the dozens with the speed and precision of a machine. Even the flour felt softer when she gave it her undivided attention. She loved baking, but baking a one-and-only cake for a special customer was decadent.
The chocolate cake batter moved like silk and glistened when it caught the light. She thinned and smoothed the peanut butter and cream cheese filling, but the gummy worms were on their own. There was no improving them. She crinkled her nose in distaste, but her preferences didn’t matter for this one. It was all about Andy.
By the time Aubrey drizzled the glaze on the cake, she had seventeen minutes left on the clock. She poked her head through the kitchen doors. “Lily, I need to deliver this cake right this second before my pinkie shrivels off.”
“Yeah.” Her employee raised an eyebrow at her but kindly left the you are so weird unsaid. “Sure.”
Aubrey tripped on her sprint to the car, but she righted herself before the cake splattered on the road. Breathing deeply through her nose, she knit the last bits of her patience together and forced herself to stay calm. After securing the cake box on the floor of the passenger seat, she slid into her fifteen-year-old Jeep and sped out of her parking spot.
She couldn’t breathe properly until she pulled into Andy’s driveway with one-and-a-half minutes to spare. Her deodorant had failed under pressure, leaving stains the size of dinner plates under her arms, and her shirt clung to her clammy chest and back. Aubrey lifted the cake box with excruciating care as if it held newly hatched chicks—delicate and precious. Her body wanted to run, but her brain forced her to walk toward the house. A wise call, since her head might blow up in a mushroom cloud if she tripped and ruined the cake.
The front door swung open before her knuckles made contact, giving Aubrey a split second to hike the cake over her head before the birthday girl launched herself at her.
“Oh, thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Andy gave her a giant grin, her two missing teeth doubling her cute factor. The smile and the little arms circling her midriff warmed Aubrey from head to toe. “You’re the best cake lady in the world.”
This. She had the best job in the world.
“I would never break a pinkie promise,” she replied, her voice husky with emotion.
“Thank you so much, Aubrey.” Andy’s mom lifted the cake box out of Aubrey’s hands and detached her daughter from her waist.
“My pleasure. Sorry again about the mix-up.”
Aubrey jogged back to her Jeep without pausing to savor the moment. She had to get back to the bakery for closing. The adrenaline drained from her, leaving her limp and tired, and she wasn’t looking forward to the scrubbing and mopping waiting for her.
When she pulled up to the shop, she saw the SORRY WE MISSED YOU sign displayed on the door. It was perfectly askew, just the way she liked it, and the lights inside were dimmed to a soft glow. With confused wonder, she heaved her leaden body out of the Jeep and shuffled to the shop.
“Wow. Awesome adulting,” Aubrey said as gratitude squeezed her heart in a bear hug. Lily was halfway finished with the cleanup, showing more initiative than she ever had. Sniffing back silly tears, Aubrey grabbed a bottle of organic surface cleaner and a dish towel. “I really appreciate your help. The adrenaline wore off, and I’m running on empty. Thank you.”
“It’s…” Her teenage scowl slipped, and she suddenly looked so young and sweet. “You’re welcome.”
They cleaned in quiet harmony and closed up shop only half an hour late. Lily zoomed in and out of the locker room, securing her earbuds and pulling her hoodie over her head. She was halfway to the door when she waved good-bye without bothering to turn around. Aubrey smiled. Lily could pretend otherwise, but she liked her dorky boss.
Aubrey stuffed her arms into a black windbreaker and slung her purse across her torso. She reached for the doorknob but hesitated. The day didn’t end in complete disaster, but the disappearance of the original Frankencake niggled at the back of her mind. And her body still twitched from the ups and downs of the day. If she wanted some decent REM cycles, she had to decompress before heading home.
Aubrey took a wary sniff of her shirt. “Ugh. Ew.”
She couldn’t walk into a public establishment like this. People would probably see noxious, green fumes wafting from her top and reach for their clothespins. Twisting her neck far away from her stinky self, Aubrey hurried to the locker room and disposed of the offending shirt, wrapping it tightly in a plastic bag. Wetting some paper towels, she wiped away the evidence of her stress and tugged her arms through a spare shirt she kept for emergencies. It had a picture of Cookie Monster hugging a jar of cookies with the caption MY PRECIOUS below him.
It wasn’t a fancy work-to-evening transformation, but she was weeknight-presentable. With anticipation in her steps, Aubrey set out on foot to her favorite pub, Weldon Brewery. The three-block walk there should skim off more of her anxiety.
The brewery stood on the edge of downtown, and it was fast becoming Sierra Nevada’s worst-kept secret. They’d swept top-beer awards across the country for five consecutive years, and craft beer aficionados pilgrimaged to the brewery and packed the place to the brim. The head brewer, Tara Park, happened to be Aubrey’s best friend. Lucky me.
The air was nippy for an early-summer evening, so she stuffed her hands inside her jean pockets but didn’t pick up her pace. The setting sun drenched the cozy town in a blanket of deep coral and whispers of violet—a scene from a storybook come to life. A dreamy smile broke through Aubrey’s restlessness. Weldon was home. Even after four years, it was hard to believe Comfort Zone stood nestled among the brightly colored mom-and-pop stores lining the tidy streets.
When she pushed through the sturdy wooden doors of the brewery, the high ceiling, repurposed wood beams, and floor-to-ceiling windows welcomed her with their warm, rustic charm. It was a weeknight, so it wasn’t too crowded, but it was busy enough to hum with conversation and laughter.
“Give me the good stuff, woman.” Aubrey settled onto a barstool and pounded her fist on the bar for effect. “Ow.”
“Wuss. You’re an embarrassment to badass, bar-pounding women everywhere. Here.” Tara plunked down a pint of blond ale and narrowed her eyes as Aubrey gulped down a third of it. “Damn, girl. I’ll take back calling you a wuss; slow down. I don’t want to drag your drunk ass home tonight.”
“Some friend you are.”
“I give you free beer and a shoulder to lean on. You wouldn’t find a better friend even if you scoured the earth for one.”
Tara was right. Life wouldn’t be complete without her. Aubrey lifted her mug in agreement and took a daintier gulp.
“Rough day in sugar land?”
“You could say that. Remember Andy’s special-order cake?” Tara made a gag face. Okay. She remembers. “Lily gave her cake to the wrong customer, so I baked another one and delivered it to Andy’s house. In the middle of afternoon rush. But you know what the scariest part is?”
“Andy made you stay and eat a slice of Frankencake?”
“No, it’s even worse. Lily has no idea who she sold the monstrosity to. It has to be some poor out-of-towner who desperately needed a chocolate Bundt cake. Tragically, they got the Frankencake instead and probably ended up choking on a peanut butter–covered gummy worm.”
“Yeah, that sounds very likely. Murder by Bizarro cake.” Her friend’s tone was dry, but her eyes softened with a smile. “You did everything you could. Now relax and enjoy my scintillating company.”
“Scintillating? Last week, it was electrifying.” Despite her grumbling, Aubrey did as directed, breathing deeply through her nose and drawing her shoulders away from her ears. Her next gulp of beer tasted even better, and all the day’s stress melted away.
“So which one’s your pride and joy?” A deep, delicious voice spoke from behind her.
A thrill rushed through Aubrey, and goose bumps spread down her arms. Maybe I shouldn’t have chugged all that beer on an empty stomach.
“Spank Me,” Tara said, checking out the customer under her lashes.
“I usually reserve that kind of fun for the third date.” The flirtatious response came much too easily, but his voice made it sound sophisticated and enticing.
Tara snorted and mouthed holy crap to Aubrey behind her hand. If her friend’s reaction was any indication, the dude must be up in the clouds on the hotness scale. Curiosity won, and Aubrey swiveled around on the stool to explain that Spank Me was the brewery’s überhoppy, gold-medal IPA.
“She didn’t mean that literally.” Her words and laughter scattered as dark brown eyes zeroed in on her face.
Aubrey couldn’t draw a proper breath with her pulse racing like an overcaffeinated squirrel’s. She never went drool-faced over a man, even a gorgeous specimen such as the tall, muscular stranger in front of her.
“It’s our award-winning IPA. My pride and joy,” her friend said, noting Aubrey’s sudden loss of speaking abilities with a barely suppressed laugh.
It had to be because she didn’t expect him to be Asian American. Tara and Aubrey were two of six Asian locals, and her friend’s family made up the other four. The odds of meeting a hot Asian American man on a weeknight—Tara’s two older brothers excepted—were slim to none in Weldon.
“Spank Me it is, then,” he replied to Tara as his eyes flickered to the name tag on her shirt. “Thank you, Tara.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, and turned away to fill his order with a playful wink at Aubrey.
“I’m Landon,” he said, turning his full attention to Aubrey. Her jaws went slack, and her tummy dipped and swerved at the appreciative gleam in his eyes. He took a seat semi-next to her, leaving a barstool between them. She fought down the smile tugging at her lips. Too many men invade a woman’s personal space without a thought. But not this one. Well done, Mr. Landon.
“Aubrey.” She sounded as breathy as Marilyn Monroe in her JFK birthday serenade. It was totally unintentional and massively embarrassing.
A knowing grin spread across his face, all cocky and sexy as hell. Then she just about died when a dimple tucked into his left cheek. Note to self: Going without sex for a year makes you susceptible to gorgeous men with dimples.
“What are you having?” He cocked his head to one side and a lock of jet-black hair fell across his forehead. Her fingers itched to brush it away.
“Buzz Off.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed and jumped to clarify herself. “The blond ale. That’s the name—Buzz Off. I wasn’t telling you to leave or anything.”
And just like that, she made everything worse. Much, much worse.
“I’m relieved to hear that, because I’d like to buy you a drink.” His laughter, low and rumbly, spread through her like warm brandy, and she forgot to be embarrassed. “May I?”
That voice. That laugh. That dimple. Aubrey could only manage a nod as heat and awareness flooded her.
* * *
Landon’s eyes roamed over the striking woman in the Cookie Monster T-shirt, greedy to drink in as much of her as he could. The sight of her provided the perfect antidote to his frustrating day, which had been a parade of bad luck.
He’d enjoyed a thrilling ride into a ditch when his tire blew on the freeway, but that was tame compared to his trip to Weldon in the rustiest tow truck in existence. While Weldon’s auto shop/gas station/mini-mart was the closest business that could replace his tire, it was closed for the day at eleven thirty. In the morning. Don’t small-town folks need gas or some cherry slushy in the middle of the day? If he hadn’t had over three hours of driving left, he would’ve risked driving on a spare.
Instead, he’d checked in at Lola’s Trattoria and Inn and wandered through the pedestrian-friendly town, exploring the picturesque slice of Americana. An eclectic mix of stores filled the streets without a chain store in sight. That was quite a feat when he couldn’t even stroll the cobblestoned villages of Europe without passing a Starbucks or a McDonald’s.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d walked without a destination. There was no rush to be somewhere or to do something. The brief break from his hectic life had felt utterly foreign, and it had taken him half an hour to relax into it. As his steps became lighter and a smile tugged at his lips, a delectable smell wafted toward him. The aroma of freshly baked bread, butter, and sweet spices beckoned him to search for its source.
His nose led him to Comfort Zone, a bakery hidden between a barbershop and a pet store. The warmth and ease of the place ensconced him as soon as he stepped inside. It was lively without being loud and full of people without feeling crowded. Whether they were engrossed in a book or guffawing at someone’s joke, the customers looked completely at ease, like they were hanging out at their best friend’s house. Immersed in the atmosphere, he’d experienced a rare moment of peace, which was interrupted before he could properly savor it.
Landon was enjoying a cup of rich, dark coffee and a whole chocolate Bundt cake, the bakery’s special of the day—soaking in the sun from the bright outdoor seating—when he’d choked on a gummy worm hidden within the thick, clingy peanut butter filling. His eyes and nose running from his coughing fit, he dumped the cake in the trash bin and walked away. He’d escaped asphyxiation, but he was angry as hell.
There were plenty of inedible cakes in the world, but the bakery and the Bundt cake had brimmed with potential. The chocolate cake itself had been beautiful—light, moist, and perfectly bittersweet. The cream cheese and peanut butter filling had tasted improbably delicious.
The baker had talent, but throwing in the gummy worms exhibited arrogance and callousness. And showcasing the Bundt cake as the daily special without alerting the customers to the unusual filling? That was wrong. A rebellion without a cause. It was an unfortunate pitfall for some talented chefs. Was it frustration? Boredom? Whatever prompted the addition of the gummy worms, the cake shouldn’t have been served to a customer. Experiments should stay in the kitchen until they were perfected. Comfort Zone had used its customers, including him, as test subjects.
Landon had been on his way to review a three-starred Michelin restaurant in Mammoth, but his overnight stay in Weldon meant that well-laid plan wasn’t happening. He had to fly out the next afternoon for his monthlong assignment in East Asia, which meant he had to drive back to Santa Monica at the crack of dawn. He was counting on the auto shop/gas station/mini-mart to open at 6:00 A.M. as the sign promised.
It was unplanned and a bit impulsive, but Weldon’s very own Comfort Zone was going to be critiqued in California Coast Monthly. As aggravating as the experience had been, excitement stirred at the prospect of writing a review he was emotionally invested in.
“So what brings you to Weldon?” Aubrey said, licking off the foam mustache her blond ale left behind.
The flash of pink jerked Landon out of his thoughts, and he zeroed in on the alluring woman in front of him. “Bad luck.”
“That sounds ominous.”
When she smiled, her almond-shaped brown eyes tilted up in the corners, adding to her ethereal beauty. Her cropped black hair capped her delicate head, and her petite body dipped and flared in all the right places. He could imagine her as a mischievous woodland faerie, clothed in gossamer wings.
“Nothing that exciting. My car blew a tire, but the auto shop is closed till tomorrow morning, so here I am.”
“You’re right. Not exciting at all.” Aubrey munched on a pretzel, amusement curving her lips. “Next time, try throwing in a helicopter, some churning water, or an active volcano somewhere in your story.”
“Maybe I’ll add a femme fatale.”
The bridge of her nose crinkled as she laughed, and her cupid’s bow mouth curved in an impish smile. Regrettably, her tinkling laughter caught her friend’s attention, and Landon nearly cringed. The brewery had a large enough crowd to keep a single server more than busy, and Tara was bustling about like a woman possessed by a tornado. Every time she stopped by the bar, she threw a subtle glare his way, telegraphing a simple but effective message.
One false move and I drown you in a beer barrel.
She was one fierce cockblocker. Her loyalty to Aubrey was inexplicably endearing to him, but her concern was misplaced. Landon was all about consensual fun. He put on his best Boy Scout face to put her at ease, but the brewer’s eyes widened in alarm. He’d actually never been a Boy Scout. Perhaps he should’ve gone for a laid-back expression instead. Fuck it. Landon smiled and nodded politely to her, and then stood from his seat.
“Why don’t we find ourselves a table?” Well meaning or not, he wanted Aubrey to himself.
“I’d like that.” She smiled at her friend and tilted her head toward the dining area. “Tara, we’re gonna grab a table.”
“How’s this?” He’d chosen a small table at the back corner. When Aubrey nodded, he pulled out her chair and took a seat across from her.
Their proximity and relative privacy made the air between them hum with electricity. Their knees brushed every time either of them shifted in their seat, sending bolts of desire through him. A sharp intake of breath and a parting of her lips revealed Aubrey wasn’t immune to their magnetic attraction.
Landon had dated his fair share of beautiful women. There was no reason to act like a gawky teenager, but his roaring heart and churning stomach said otherwise. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt nervous around a woman. Her hand was resting less than four inches away from his, but he broke out in a cold sweat working up the nerve to brush his knuckles against it.
He started when Aubrey traced her fingers across the back of his hand with a shy smile. “So, Landon from out of town, what’s your dream?”
His blood had gone south at her touch, leaving nothing for his brain, but he was even more dumbstruck by her question. The woman threw him off balance on all fronts.
“Not big on making small talk, are you?” He managed to keep his voice steady despite his spinning head and hardening body.
“If I’m going to have a chat with a complete stranger, I might as well have an interesting one.” A deep blush stained her cheeks, and her lashes fluttered to hide her eyes. “Besides, you’re leaving tomorrow. I was hoping we could pack a lot into tonight.”
Landon sucked in a sharp breath. Her shy and earnest declaration moved him, and he fought the urge to pull her across the table to kiss her senseless. Instead, he lifted Aubrey’s hand and brushed a kiss on her pale inner wrist. A wolfish grin spread across his face when she gasped at his touch.
“My dream was to open my own restaurant.” To his shock, the truth stumbled out of him. A truth he’d refused to face for the past decade. Maybe he was desperate to give her an interesting conversation. A memorable one. “Someplace spacious and comfortable where people can enjoy a delicious meal without pretense or a six-figure salary.”
“That sounds amazing. What kind of food are we talking about?”
“Whatever inspiration strikes me. If I had to label it, New American–slash–Korean fusion will have to do.”
“I love Korean food. I would totally eat there.” Aubrey sat forward, her eyes round and sparkling. “So you’re Korean? I am, too.”
“Yes, I’m Korean, and you would be more than welcome to eat at my restaurant.”
“Are you a chef?”
“No, but I trained to be one. Have you heard of the CIA?”
“The Central Intelligence Agency? You learned to cook for undercover agents while dodging bullets and jumping out of airplanes?” She cocked her head to the side and gazed at him with solemn interest.
“I … um.” Landon was fairly certain she was messing with him, but insulting her wouldn’t be the best way to seduce her. “It’s…”
Aubrey’s pale skin turned from pink to crimson before she erupted into laughter, her frame trembling like a 6.8 earthquake. She held up a finger, gripping her side, pantomiming she needed a minute. He crossed his arms over his chest and leveled her with a steely glare, which wasn’t an easy feat considering her infectious mirth.
“I’m s-sorry, but you had to see your face. You couldn’t decide whether a small-town girl like me knew about the Culinary Institute of America or whether I was pulling your leg.”
Mischievous little fox. He needed to get her back for that.
“Actually, that’s incorrect.” He drew closer to her, his lips close to her ear, and lowered his voice to a deep, gritty whisper. “I was debating whether or not I should tell you the truth, because if I did, I’d have to terminate you.”
Aubrey stared at him in silence for a second, and then a delighted grin spread across her face. “This is fun.”
“Yeah, it is.” Landon was surprised to find he meant it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had fun. He certainly had pleasant and interesting times, but fun times? No, this felt alien.
His earlier hesitation forgotten, he ran his knuckles down the side of her face, relishing the feel of her warm, silky skin. Aubrey leaned lightly into his hand, and her eyes slid shut. She was so responsive to his touch. Landon’s mouth went dry, and all he could think was more. He wanted to make her laugh again. He ached to make her fall apart in his arms with her swollen lips calling out his name.
“You’re beautiful,” Landon murmured, unable to look away from her.
“So are you.” Aubrey’s lips curved into a barely there smile that squeezed his heart.
He’d gone to the brewery for a pint to wash away the bitter taste of his sorry day, but he’d discovered something far more intoxicating—something potent enough to tip him off-balance. Aubrey made his blood sing and his rational thoughts melt away. The floor seemed to grow solid and strong, and his body settled heavily into his seat like he’d dropped anchor across from her—as though she had a gravitational pull all her own and he was helpless against it.
He’d led a nomadic life for a decade. He didn’t know how to stay still for long. The smart thing to do would be to run the hell away from this woman, whose mere proximity made it unimaginable to even leave the table.
But smart wasn’t part of his vocabulary at the moment. Greedy, feral, and desperate passion overwhelmed all else. He stood abruptly from his seat, and Aubrey’s mouth parted in surprise. Then he grasped her hand and raised her to her feet.
“Do you want to get out of here?” His eyes bored into hers, his desire and urgency displayed for her to see.
“Yes.”
Copyright © 2020 by Judith J. Yi
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