CHAPTER 14

CUPCAKES & TRAMP STAMPS

Brandon

A night out with the guys is exactly what I needed after walking out of Charlie’s bakery as David walked in. I hadn’t stopped thinking about it all day.

I felt like we were on some kind of merry go round. I try to kiss her. The next day she’s on a date with David. She tries to kiss me. The next day the bastard shows up with a bag full of food.

It was like the universe was against us or something if I believed in such a thing.

I didn’t even know if she remembered last night. She was drunk enough to make a move on me, but I had been drunk plenty of times and still remembered what happened the next day.

If she remembered it, she wasn’t letting on.

“Are you just going to stare off into your beer all night?”

I looked up at Parker who was looking at me with real concern on his face.

“You two are such shit company that I didn’t know what else to do.” I threw my arm over the chair next to me as I leaned back and took a long drag of my beer.

Parker chuckled. “If Mason would get off his damn phone. Don’t you talk to your wife enough? She’s constantly texting you all damn day.”

Mason rolled his eyes but put his phone in his pocket. “Yeah, but the texts she is sending me right now can’t be sent from work.”

“You do realize we’ve known her a long ass time. She would send you a nude from anywhere.”

“That’s true.” He grinned at us like he was the luckiest man in the world.

“So, what’s up with you and Charlie?” Parker was as big of a gossip as his damn wife. I had no doubt that he and Livy laid in bed at night trying to figure out what was going on with my love life.

I’d hate to disappoint them by telling them that it was as static as they come.

“There’s nothing going on.”

“Uh huh,” Mason huffed from beside me.

Parker leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. I rolled my eyes because I knew that he was about to go into dad mode.

“I know for a fact that you rescheduled one of your appointments this morning just so you could go help her move furniture.” Parker grinned like he had me by the balls, and I suppose he did.

“She was struggling to even budge the table. What kind of landlord would that make me? A shitty one like you?”

Mason laughed, but Parker was dead serious.

“Sorry I’m not the kind of landlord who is trying to fuck my tenant.”

“Oh, fuck you. I’m not trying to fuck her. Plus, you fucked our receptionist,” I countered before chugging the rest of my beer.

“Let’s not talk about fucking my sister,” Mason groaned, but neither one of us were listening to him.

“Plus, I wing manned you so hard with Livy. She probably wouldn’t even be with you if it wasn’t for me.”

Parker opened his mouth to argue then closed it. “That’s probably true.” He laughed. “But I was looking for more than getting in Livy’s pants.”

“And who is to say that I’m not looking for more with Charlie?” I looked him straight in the eye.

“Are you?” He grinned, and I realized that the bastard had played me. He knew that I wouldn’t talk about Charlie and I or the lack thereof willingly. I fell right into his trap.

“Will you have something to say about it if I say yes?” I didn’t need a lecture. Not from my best friend and not from my business partner.

“Maybe.” He lifted an eyebrow. “So, fess up.”

I ran my finger down my face and motioned the waitress for another round of beers.

“Yes. I’m interested in more. Are you happy?”

He smiled, but then said, “Shit.”

“What?” I asked, exasperated.

“I’m happy that you are finally into someone, but I really didn’t believe it. Now because I thought I knew you better than Livy does I lost a damn bet.”

I grinned. Parker had been my best friend for a long damn time, but he should have known better than to bet against his wife. “What do you have to do?”

“The dishes.” He looked like he was starting to panic. “For a month straight. That means she’s going to use every pot possible when she cooks dinner.”

“Sucks to be you.” Mason laughed, and I joined in with him.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out and glanced at the screen as we laughed at Parker’s misery.

Freckles: I just saw the sweetest cupcake tramp stamp. I’m thinking it might be my first tattoo.

I read the text three different times. Charlie had never text me before. I gave her my number when we had first met in case she had any problems with the bakery, but she hadn’t used it. Not until now.

Me: Bold choice. Should it have sprinkles or no?

Those three little dots appeared and disappeared more times than I could count.

Freckles: Is a cupcake even a cupcake if it doesn’t have sprinkles?

Me: Not in my humble opinion, but I’m no expert like you.

Freckles: That’s true. You probably like the mini cupcakes that you get from the grocery store. :o

Me: I never took you for a cupcake snob. Glad to know where we stand.

Freckles: I’m not a snob. I just have taste. Plus, I bet you judge everyone’s tattoos.

Me: True.

Me: Some are atrocious though.

Freckles: Cupcakes too.

Me: Touché.

I wanted to ask her about the almost kiss from last night. I wanted to know if she remembered it. If she regretted it.

Freckles: Thank you for your help today. You are a lifesaver.

I smiled down at my phone. When I looked through the front of her shop and saw her attempting to move that table, I laughed. She was so small in comparison, but she had a look on her face that told me she wasn’t going to let that table beat her. She was determined if not a bit crazy.

Me: You’re welcome. Are you not going to thank me for being your knight in shining armor for driving your drunk ass home last night?

Those three dots bounced on my screen for what seemed like forever.

Freckles: Thank you, but I wasn’t that drunk.

There it was. My opening.

Me: Are you sure? You seemed pretty drunk when you told me how hot you thought I am.

She didn’t, but I knew it would ruffle her feathers.

Freckles: I did no such thing.

Me: Yes. You did. You said how much you love my tattoos and how you get lost in my eyes.

Freckles: That’s absurd.

Me: You don’t actually think I’m hot. Only drunk Charlie does? Damn. I’m wounded.

Freckles: I didn’t say that.

Her texts started coming in faster than I could read the last one.

Freckles: I didn’t say either.

Freckles: Not that you are hot or that you’re hot not.

Freckles: You know what I mean.

Freckles: This is coming out all wrong.

Me: I’m confused. Am I hot or no?

I grinned down at my phone because I could practically see her freaking out on the other end of it. I bet she was blushing and regretting the moment she ever decided to text me.

Freckles: I plead the fifth.

Me: Well that’s not fair. Plus, I already know your answer.

Freckles: And how do you know that? Arrogant. Just because other women think you’re hot doesn’t mean that I do too.

Me: It’s not that.

Freckles: Then what is it, O wise one?

Me: I don’t typically try to kiss people I’m not attracted to.

After that, my phone went silent.

“Who are you over there texting like a school girl?” Mason asked, but I shut him out.

Maybe I took it too far with her.

Me: Freckles?

When I still didn’t see any dots indicating that she was even considering texting me back, I sent another.

Me: I’m just playing around.

But then they came like a beacon in the night. Those three dots danced and danced across my screen until I thought I was going to scream for her to reply.

Freckles: I was drunk.

Damn. That one hurt.

Me: Ouch.

Freckles: I didn’t mean it like that.

I’m not sure how else she could mean it. I knew from the beginning that I probably wasn’t her type, but hell, I didn’t even know what to say.

Me: Then how did you mean it?

Freckles: I just meant that I was drunk. I’m usually not that forward.

Me: Now I’m really confused. I don’t know if you think I’m hot or not and I sure as hell don’t know whether or not you actually wanted to kiss me.

Freckles: Dear God. You know that you’re hot.

I could just imagine her rolling her eyes.

Me: And the kiss?

It took her three excruciatingly long minutes before she texted back.

Freckles: The kiss was a rash decision I made because you somehow looked even hotter when I was drunk. Happy?

Me: Almost.

Freckles: Almost?

Me: Now we just have to decide on what color icing to use on your tramp stamp.