The Sweetest Fix Page 2

  “Can’t you call and tell the king dude what happened? Plead your case?”

  “No. The thing about dance is…there are zero excuses. It’s unforgiving—and getting in front of this guy in particular is like winning the lottery. I can’t ask them to let me win twice. In this world, you show up. You perform. No one cares about your reasons for failing, you know? You just failed.”

  “So you’re just going to give up? Like that?”

  She removed the rubber band from her long, dirty-blonde hair and scrubbed at her scalp. “I don’t see it as giving up. I see it as being realistic.”

  “No way.” He tossed down his cigarette and stubbed it out with the foot of his costume, which couldn’t possibly be safe, but she didn’t feel compelled to point it out. “Based on your accent, I’m guessing you’re not from around here.”

  “Wisconsin.”

  “You got all the way to New York on a day’s notice and you’re just going to pack it up and go home to friggin’ Wisconsin? At the first sign of an obstacle?” He gestured to himself. “Do you know how many guys I had to beat out to land Pikachu?”

  “Um…”

  “None. Are you serious? That was a joke, honey. Here’s my point…” He shifted his stance. “When a door is closed in your face, you have to at least look for a side door. Or an emergency exit. Or a window. And try to get in.”

  “That sounds a lot like breaking and entering.”

  “That’s exactly what it is—and I should know. Breaking and entering is why I have to battle Captain America and a Smurf every morning for sidewalk space.”

  Unbelievably, Reese had to fend off a laugh.

  “There we go. Now you’re coming back from the dead,” he said, cuffing her lightly on the shoulder with his paw. “Don’t take what I’m saying literally. What I mean is, you have to find another way to get in front of the man. It’s easy to blow someone off over the phone, but face to face? Especially with a young kid like you? Not so easy.”

  The lack of sleep was definitely beginning to creep up on Reese if the Pikachu’s words were carrying water. Where would she even begin trying to track down Bexley? In a city like this, he was a veritable needle in a haystack. Throw in the fact that he notoriously kept a low profile—

  “Wait.” Her spine snapped straight and she started leafing through her bag. “On the way here, I was reading an article about him in Front and Center and he has…a son? Yes, a son. He owns a bakery or something. There was a quip made about him refusing to follow in his father’s footsteps…” She found the magazine and flipped to the dog-eared page. “Here it is. Bexley’s son, Leo, owns a bakery on the Upper West Side known for perfecting the classics.” She twisted her lips. “It doesn’t mention the name.”

  “You have a phone, don’t you? Google it.”

  “I will.” She fumbled for the device “I am. I really shouldn’t be doing this, tracking down Bexley’s son. It’s probably only going to piss him off.”

  “Or he’ll respect your tenacity.”

  “It’s not like he can blacklist me. I’ve never even been on the list in the first place. I mean, I really have nothing to lose at this point.”

  “Now you’re thinking like a Times Square Pikachu.”

  “The compliment of the century,” she muttered, making him laugh. “So what exactly am I doing here? Just breezing into the bakery and asking this stranger to give me an audience with his father? God, that’s so gross.”

  “It won’t hurt to charm him a little.” He pinched his finger and thumb together. “Make him feel like a hero for helping you out.”

  “That’s terrible advice. No. I’m going to walk in, be straightforward and hope for the best.” Her Google search yielded its results. “Okay, here it is.” She clicked on an article from Time Out titled “Whipping up Wonder on the UWS.” “Leo Bexley…ooh. It’s called The Cookie Jar. That’s pretty cute.” Reese stood and shouldered her bag. “I guess I better find somewhere to stay for the night first. Just in case it works out.”

  They fist-bumped, knuckles to foam. “Break a leg, hon.”

  “Thanks.” She shook her head. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this has been weird.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  A kid ran up asking for a picture and Link waved and turned away.

  Reese looked down at the map on her phone, determining which way to walk and headed west, before cutting uptown at a brisk pace. In order to book a hotel room for the night, she would have to dip into what she called her Victory Fund. The bank account she and her mother added to occasionally, in case her dreams came true and she needed to move to New York on a dime. There wasn’t much saved, about enough to sublet a room for maybe a couple weeks before she started earning a paycheck.

  But before she committed to that, she needed a miracle—and his name was Leo.

  Chapter 3

  Leo leaned an ear toward the swinging door separating the Cookie Jar’s main floor from the back room where he did all of baking. It was creeping up on dinnertime, which usually led to a lull in customers, during which he would finally emerge from the back. At the moment, he could still hear unfamiliar voices, so he went back to piping white icing onto a red velvet cake, a deep groove of concentration between his brows.

  Interacting with customers didn’t scare him or make him nervous. At twenty-eight, Leo just wasn’t one for small talk, especially since his tendency to let silences linger seemed to make people feel awkward. Why say something unless it was important or needed to be said?

  Are you allergic to tree nuts?

  Do you prefer milk chocolate or dark?

  Those were pertinent questions.

  Talking about the weather or politics didn’t make a lot of sense to him when an acquaintance had been made for the sole purpose of consuming calories, so he tended to do a ton of sighing while people peddled extra fast to be polite.

  A lot of time that nervous chattering led customers to the inevitable question. Do you sample everything you make? And then they would look twice at Leo and realize what a ridiculous question that was, their faces turning the color of the red velvet cake. Of course he sampled everything. It showed—and then some—on his six-foot-three frame.

  By staying in the back, Leo figured, he was saving everyone a lot of trouble. His confections did all the communicating. And if his customers wanted a conversation to go along with their coffee and cake, Jackie and Tad more than made up for Leo’s lack of verbal skills. Their voices were filtered through the door now, muffled, unmistakably cheerful. They’d said more words in the last five minutes than Leo had uttered in the last five weeks and never seemed to get exhausted. They were probably robots masquerading as humans, but they were a huge part of the reason customers returned to the Cookie Jar. Leo was smart enough to know he wouldn’t be half as successful without them.

  Hoping to drown out the background noise and finish the piping before heading home, Leo started to pop in one of his earbuds, Nick Cave’s low rasp reaching out—

  But he paused when he heard the tinkling of the bell out on the bakery floor and Jackie’s called greeting…followed by a voice that brought his head up, the piping bag lowering to the metal decorating table. Her tone was pleasantly accented, husky, smooth and feminine. Like a mixture of warm butter and cinnamon. Leo’s interactions with customers might be limited, but he was positive he’d never heard it before.

  “Hello!” Jackie called. “What brings you to the Cookie Jar? Looking for a snack?”

  “Well if I wasn’t,” murmured the voice, “the smell in here would have changed my mind. Do you sell this in a perfume?”

  Jackie laughed. “Yes, but the trick is you have to walk through the doors to put it on. Once you leave, it’ll cling for about an hour. Unless you’re me and you work here eight hours a day. I can’t get the smell off with a scrub brush.”

  A bright laugh. “Lucky you. Oh my God, everything looks amazing. Is that peppermint bark? After Christmas? You are doing the lord�
�s work.”

  “I just sell the stuff. Leo makes it.”

  There was a short pause. “Oh, is he…the head baker or…?”

  If there was ever an opening to pop his head through the swinging door and get a look at the girl who owned that interesting voice, now was the time. Normally he couldn’t be remotely tempted to leave his baking haven in the back to do a meet and greet with a stranger.

  Which is probably why Jackie said, “Actually, he’s the owner. Comes in early to bake everything, then skedaddles.”

  “Ah.”

  Leo set down his piping bag slowly, wiping his floury hands down the front of his white apron. Was he considering going out to the front? For a girl? That behavior didn’t track. He hadn’t asked anyone on a date since culinary school, for a lot of the same reasons he stayed in the back of the bakery. He didn’t know how to be entertaining. Or romantic. His associations with women now were more casual. Although he couldn’t remember the last time he’d associated with someone. Maybe before Thanksgiving?

  Last summer, on a particularly slow day at the Cookie Jar, Jackie and Tad had set him up a dating profile—Leo, baker, 28, UWS—and convinced him to meet a few women for dinner. On each one of the dates, he’d done a lot of listening, trying to keep up with the breakneck subject changes. And a lot of eating. Not a lot of connecting, though. And Jackie assured him, over and over again, that connecting was the end game. Not simply getting a look at the restaurant’s dessert tray.

  Bottom line, Leo was content to be alone with his ingredients. To avoid that look women gave him when the conversation ran out that said, what else you got? He understood there was a certain gratitude that was expected when a woman went out with him, considering he tested the seams of every dress shirt he owned and grunted as a form of communication, so he always asked them out again. Some of them even said yes, but he’d yet to find someone he could relax around. He’d been more than happy to give up on the endeavor.

  “Actually,” Jackie said on the other side of the door. “You’re just in time to help me and Tad out with something.”

  “I’m Tad. Hey.”

  “And I’m Jackie. Double hey.”

  “Hey.” The Voice came closer. “What are you working on?”

  “We’re brainstorming an idea for Valentine’s Day.”

  “We could use an outside perspective,” Tad added. “You definitely fit the demo.”

  “Do I?”

  “In a roundabout way, yes,” Jack said. “Generally speaking, men are our main customer on Valentine’s Day. Buying something for their girlfriends. Usually chocolates.”

  “Ahh…so you’re wondering what I’d like to receive? As a gift?”

  “Bingo.”

  Leo frowned at the door. How ridiculous that he didn’t like the idea of her having a boyfriend. The idiot probably wouldn’t know what the hell to pick out of the display case. Honestly, he didn’t want to hear her start a sentence with the words, “My boyfriend…”

  So he cracked his neck once and pushed open the door, stepping out into the open.

  “Leo!” Jackie exclaimed, with an edge to her tone, probably since she’d covered for him and then he turned her into a liar. But his employee’s subtle admonishment faded out like the final note of a song when he spotted the owner of The Voice.

  The phrase “doe eyes” had never been more appropriate.

  She blinked her big, brown ones at him from the other side of the counter and took a small step backward, her hands joining at her waist and wringing together.

  “Hi,” she mouthed, no sound coming out, but he wasn’t sure she realized that.

  In Leo’s head, she’d been pretty. But he’d wildly miscalculated.

  This girl was stunning. Not in a quiet way, either. Her long, dark blonde hair fell around a face that made his jugular tighten. Generous lips, a beauty mark perched on the right side. To say she was sexy wouldn’t be enough.

  And even through her leggings and purple coat, he could tell she was a dancer. He’d grown up around enough of them to know. This close to the Theater District, there was no chance he was wrong. Which meant that, even if he had a sliver of a chance with this girl, on the insane possibility that she was single, he couldn’t go there.

  “Uh…boss? You with us?” Tad prompted out of the side of his mouth.

  He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’m Leo.”

  Those magical lips of hers twitched. “Why would you be sorry about that?” She took two sweeping steps, toes out, toward the counter, confirming his suspicion that she was a dancer. “I’m Reese. Nice to meet you.”

  When she extended a hand, he swallowed and took it, incapable of reining in the static that crawled up his arm and warmed his shoulder. Reluctantly, he took his hand back, grunting in the general direction of his employees. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

  They were looking at him and the dancer, Reese, like they’d just shot rainbows from their fingertips.

  “Uh…” Jackie recovered first, clapping her hands together and jangling the gold bands of her bracelets against her deep brown skin. “Right. So…Reese. If you wouldn’t mind helping us out…”

  “I don’t mind,” Reese said, still looking at Leo, her brow puckered slightly.

  He was staring right back. Probably with the same frown.

  Couldn’t seem to stop looking, despite the reminder she was a bad idea. He’d learned a long time ago that having Bernard Bexley for a father made him deceptively attractive to dancers. It was extremely unlikely that she was here because of that relationship. It wasn’t something that he advertised. Every so often, there was a mention of Leo in an article about his father, but it was usually buried at the end and lacking in important detail.

  As soon as she found out who he was, though…

  Well, he knew what happened next.

  “What would be the ultimate bakery gift from a boyfriend for Valentine’s Day?” Jackie asked the question, chin propped on her hands. “Do you mind me asking if you have a boyfriend?”

  “Jackie,” Leo muttered, finally managing to tear his eyes off the girl, pretending to reorganize one of the display cases.

  “I don’t. Have a boyfriend, I mean.”

  There went his gaze, zipping right back to her, relief curling in his chest.

  “I’m not sure how this is going to make me sound, but…my perfect gift from a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day would be something I could look cute eating.”

  “That narrows it down,” Leo grumbled.

  Reese flushed and ducked her head, looking up at him through her eyelashes. And he almost dropped a tray of blondies, his tongue feeling oddly thick in his mouth.

  Never in his life had he accidentally blurted something.

  Not talking enough was usually the problem.

  What the hell was going on here?

  “That’s a really good point,” Tad said, doing a pathetic job of pretending to clean the top of the counter. “So we’re talking something that wouldn’t get stuck in your teeth.”

  “Yes.” Reese nodded once. “But also something that feels personal. You know what I mean? I don’t want to get what everyone else is getting.” She gave a wry twist of her lips. “Wow, I am demanding. Maybe there’s a reason I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  Jackie and Tad laughed.

  Leo narrowed his eyes at her. Was she one of these people who made fun of themselves in order to receive compliments? The deepening flush of her skin and the renewed wringing of her hands said no. She almost seemed…nervous about something. An odd disposition for someone who probably performed in front of crowds. Who was this girl?

  “What’s your perfect bite?”

  Leo’s abrupt question startled her. See, this is what he meant about only asking the important questions. He wouldn’t know a segue if it bit him in the ass.

  “My…perfect bite?” She dropped into first position and scanned the display case. “I’ve never thought about it.”

  He had. At least fo
ur times since laying eyes on her.

  She’d dropped right into a conversation with strangers as if she’d known them for years, hadn’t even flinched when they asked for her opinion, a left turn for the average person. And he liked her opinion, too. She didn’t give them an arbitrary answer just to make small talk. All those ingredients mixed together made her fun, smart, interesting so he could bet on a refined nut. A more complex palate of salty and sweet. Chocolate, thanks to her voice. It was like a ripple of melted ganache and he could hear her moaning after a bite of the good stuff.

  Thinking of what else would make her moan, it became necessary to distract himself or tent the front of his apron. Sliding open the refrigerated case, he used a square of wax paper to take out a chocolate cherry bomb sprinkled with pieces of candied almond and slid it across the counter toward her. “Eat that.”

  “Oh.” She came the remaining distance to the counter and picked up the cherry bomb, inspecting it from all sides. “That’s so funny. I was eyeing this.”

  Leo nodded firmly, trying not to let it show how much that gratified him.

  “Okay.” She shifted. “Here’s the thing about this one. It’s hard to tell if this is a two biter or a one biter. It’s right on the borderline. My instinct is to just pop it right in, but I could be risking chipmunk cheeks. Or I could go the safe route and split it up.”