Muffin Top Read online

  My eyes lock on his tattoo. It’s an anchor amongst ocean waves with a ribbon beneath it that says sink or swim.

  “The key to frosting cupcakes is that you don’t want to go too slow.”

  I clear my throat. “Okay…”

  “But if you go too fast, you get sloppy and make mistakes, so…” He grabs a clear bag full of white frosting off the counter and hands it to me. “You find a happy medium.”

  “A happy medium.”

  “Yeah. Hold the bag like this…” His fingers touch mine and my entire arm turns numb as he moves my hands up the bag. “Squeeze from the top, frosting comes out the bottom.”

  “Like toothpaste…” I say, instantly regretting it.

  Vincent laughs. “Just like toothpaste. But first…” He grabs a cherry from the bowl and places it on top of one of the cupcake bottoms. “You hide the cherry.”

  Goosebumps flutter over my skin as he guides my hands and I take a deep breath to calm the pulsing in my chest. I’ve barely spoken ten words to this guy in a whole year and all of a sudden I’m frosting his cupcakes.

  “Start from the outside,” he says. He talks slowly to teach me but I can’t focus on anything other than that deep drawl in his voice. “Then, move in a circle around the outer edge and towards the cherry in the center.” His hands squeeze mine, forcing the frosting out and I let him guide me. It’s not like I could move my own muscles at the moment anyway.

  I watch with wide eyes as he traces an even circle around the cherry and creates a perfect peak as he moves towards the center.

  “Cool…” I smile.

  He lets go and grabs a cherry from the bowl. “Give it a try,” he says, popping it into his mouth.

  My cheeks turn as pink as these cupcakes and I grow even more self-conscious. I feel his eyes on me, heating up my skin and I will my wrists to stop shaking.

  I take a cherry from the bowl and set it on a cupcake. “Okay…” I breathe.

  “Start from the outside…” he says, his voice sliding down my spine.

  I squeeze the bag a little too hard and the frosting plops out of the tip onto the cupcake. “Whoops…” I cringe.

  “It’s all right,” he chuckles. “Keep going.”

  I move in a circle, trying to make it look like the one he did but it ends up a complete mess with the hidden cherry sticking out of the frosting. His laugh bleeds into me and I start chuckling along with him.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “There’s always at least one funny-looking one. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Can I try again?”

  “Sure.”

  I grab two cherries from the bowl and throw one into my mouth before putting the other on the cupcake. “Find a happy medium,” I repeat, chewing softly.

  “That’s right.”

  I give the bag a light squeeze, feeling the frosting slowly ease from the tip onto the cupcake. My senses twitch, unable to focus as I feel his eyes wandering me up and down.

  I reach the center and stop, wincing as this one doesn’t turn out much better looking than the other one.

  “Not bad,” he says.

  I shake my head and hold out the bag to him. “I relinquish the frosting to you, good sir.”

  He grins and takes it from me as I step back from the tray.

  I bite into another cherry and watch as he frosts a few of them in a row, barely even making a single mistake.

  I scoff. “Okay, now you’re just showing off.”

  He laughs. “Hey, I’m sure you could teach me a thing or two about mixing martinis and such.”

  “Oh, hell yeah. It’s not all about shaking and stirring nowadays.”

  Vincent continues on, dropping cherries onto the bottoms and masterfully building the frosting mountains on top of them.

  “So, what do you usually do with the funny-looking ones?” I ask.

  “Well, sometimes, I try to sell them,” he answers. “But mostly, I just eat them.”

  I feign a gasp. “Thief.”

  “I’ve been called worse.” He smiles and grabs one of my funky cupcakes to hold out to me. “Here.”

  My stomach swoons as I take it from him. “I don’t think I’ve tried your cupcakes before.”

  “You haven’t.”

  I peel the paper away and lick my lips, inhaling the sweet, sinful sugar before it even touches my tongue. Vincent grabs the other funky cupcake and takes a bite of it as I do mine, staring at me with amusement as we chew.

  “Oh, wow,” I mumble. It practically melts in my mouth with soft pellets of cherry seducing my taste buds all the way back into my throat. “You made this? Like, from scratch?”

  He swallows his bite down. “Well, I bought the cherries, but the rest of it, yeah.”

  “Holy shit, son.” I take another small bite and lick the frosting off my lips, feeling sloppy but I don’t care. “This is good. I might have to switch from my morning muffin for a while.”

  “Let me know if you do. I’ll save you one. These tend to go fast.”

  “Kudos, bakery man.”

  He laughs. “My name is Vincent.”

  I pause, feeling a little muscle pain in my cheeks. I can’t remember the last time I laughed this much. “I know.”

  His eyes fall to my face and he smiles even wider at my chin. “You’ve got…”

  “Oh…” I brush my bottom lip. “Have I made a mess of myself?”

  “It’s not too bad, here…” His thumb grazes my lip and I shiver, completely frozen still as he slides it down my chin. A white spot sticks out on his thumb as he pulls away. He brings it to his mouth and my heart rumbles as he sucks it clean. “I got it.”

  Holy shit.

  Vincent stares back at me with soft eyes and I melt as easily as the cherry bits on my tongue. He steps forward and leans down, slowly inching closer to me. I tremble beneath him, part of me convinced it’s all some cruel trick, until his mouth grazes mine and he purses his lips with a soft kiss.

  I blink, barely able to breathe until he pulls away and opens his eyes. We stare at each other the way we always have, silent but knowing, and neither of us says a word as we both lean into each other to kiss again.

  His hands crawl behind my back and settle just above my rear, easing me even closer until I’m pressed against his hard torso. I part my lips and I instantly feel his tongue on mine, softly massaging it and my senses explode all over again.

  A car honks outside and I take a quick step back. “I think that’s my cab…” I gasp.

  “Right,” he nods, his chest heaving. “Let me, uh…” He wipes his mouth. “I’ll walk you out.”

  “No, I got it. Thanks for…” I walk backwards through the kitchen, blindly bashing into counters and the door frame on my way out. “Thanks for the coffee and the, uh…” I clear my throat, “frosting.”

  Vincent stays behind the front counter, nodding along with everything I say. “No problem. You’re welcome.”

  “Bye, Vincent.”

  “Bye, Evey.”

  I burst out the front door and stumble along the sidewalk to throw myself into the backseat of the taxi cab.

  Oh, my god…

  Chapter 4

  Vincent

  I step outside into the alleyway, following the rusted tow truck as it rocks back to the parking lot. It stops just behind Evey’s violated sedan and the driver’s side door pops open.

  Floyd steps down and his face shines in the early morning sun. “Holy hell,” he says, shaking his head at me. “I thought my mama was just messing with me when she said you opened a damn bakery.”

  I shrug. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  He pauses in front of me. “Well, you’ve had worse ideas.”

  “I certainly have.” I throw on a smile. It’s been years since I’ve seen him. He’s still got that boyish charm; that bulletproof smirk. An old friend from a long-forgotten life. “I need to call in that favor.”

  His back stiffens. “Yeah, I figured as muc
h when I got your message.”

  I gesture to the tow on his truck. “It’s nothing you can’t handle.”

  “Hey, man. Anything you want.” The passenger side door creaks open and Floyd snaps back to look. “Hey, sweetie, stay in the truck, okay?”

  “It’s too hot.”

  I crane my neck to look around to the front. Two stubby legs dangle off the seat with bright pink sandals. There’s a book on her lap, full of more words than pictures.

  Floyd sighs as I tilt my head at him. “And that’s Marla.”

  “Marla?”

  “My daughter. I couldn’t leave her alone and she wakes up long before I do… by choice, if you can believe that.”

  My smile widens. “No way.”

  He shakes his head. “Yeah.”

  “You?”

  “Yep.”

  I twist and take a few steps around to get a better look at her. She’s a tiny Floyd in every way with the same blonde hair curling down over her face. Her eyes squint behind her glasses. Her tongue pokes out of the side of her mouth as she throws all of her focus into her book.

  “How old?” I ask.

  “Six. Going on twenty-five.”

  I look at him. “Six?”

  He scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, had her just after… Well, you know.”

  I nod and stare at Marla. A sudden rush of warmth fires through me, branching off equally towards pride and envy. Things went well for him after I left town and I couldn’t be happier about that. If things had gone differently for me, I might have had a child just like her.

  But that dream has passed.

  “Hey, Marla…” he says, walking over to her. “This is Vin. He’s an old friend of mine.”

  She looks up at me. “Hello.”

  I smile. “Hey, Marla. It’s nice to meet you.”

  She says nothing else, too enticed by her book to care.

  “Congrats, man,” I say. “She seems cool.”

  “Thanks,” he says, turning to face me. “And I mean that. She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for what you did.”

  I clear my throat and gesture to Evey’s car. “And now I need your help with this.”

  “Well, like I said…” He glances at his daughter one more time. “Anything you want.”

  ***

  I lick my lips, tasting a mix of cherries and Evey, but I honestly can’t tell one from the other.

  Even hours later, she still lingers in the air around me; a delicious, sinful cloud. I’ll see her shape out of the corner of my eye. I’ll hear her voice across the room. I’ll feel her watching me — but then I look up to find Monica staring at me with a crooked, inquisitive brow.

  I turn away and get back to work.

  I guess now I know what’s got Evey so on edge.

  Aiden Shank. I’m not as in-the-know about thugs and street gangs as I used to be, but luckily, I have a source that should be able to answer my questions.

  The front door opens and Evey walks in. I spin around, trying to hide the smile just begging to cross my face, and grab a large to-go cup to fill with coffee.

  Evey stops in front of the register and glares at me. “I need to talk to you.”

  I slide a lid onto the cup. “Sure.”

  She marches out of the bakery without saying another word.

  I let my smile bleed through. I’ve been waiting all morning for this moment and strangely, it’s playing out exactly how I expected it to.

  I glance at Monica’s confused face before grabbing a blueberry muffin and tossing it into a small pastry box, along with one of my famous cherry-cherry cupcakes.

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell her.

  She opens her mouth to speak and I hear her questions trailing behind me as I follow Evey outside onto the sidewalk with her coffee and treats in hand.

  Evey stands by the alleyway with her arms crossed over her chest. “What the hell is that?” she asks, staring down the alley towards the parking lot.

  “It’s your car,” I say, following her stare.

  “Yes, I know it’s my car. It’s fixed.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “You fixed it?”

  “My mechanic did.” I smirk as the cutest little angry wrinkle creases her forehead. “I told you I’d make a few calls.”

  “Uh… yeah. Some calls. I wasn’t expecting it to get it fixed so quickly. It’s been like…” she pauses to count on her fingers, “eight hours.”

  “Well, did you want to keep taking a cab to work?” I ask.

  She hesitates. “No…”

  “Then, you need a car that moves.”

  Evey spins to face me, her arms still wrapped tightly around her. “How much do I owe you for this?”

  “Nothing.” Her forehead wrinkle intensifies and I chuckle. “He owed me a favor.”

  “And you used it on this?”

  “Seemed like a decent investment.”

  She goes silent. Her big eyes twitch with distrust as she stares at me, trying to figure me out from behind her blonde bangs.

  “Evey, you obviously have enough to worry about,” I say. “You don’t have to pay me back. You don’t owe me any favors. I just wanted to help you out, okay? No strings attached.”

  She takes a deep breath. “No strings attached?”

  “No strings attached.” I hold out the coffee and the pastry box and she takes them, her face still full of pensive shock. “I have to get back to work.”

  “Okay…” she says as I walk away.

  “Oh…” I twist back around, “he also changed your oil and adjusted your alignment.”

  Her jaw drops. “What?”

  “You were low on wiper fluid, so he topped that up, too.”

  “Vincent…”

  I flash her a wink on my way inside. “Have a good day, Evey.”

  “Wait—!” She holds up the coffee. “I haven’t paid for this.”

  “It’s on me today.”

  “Vincent!”

  I escape into the bakery but stop to discreetly watch her through the windows.

  She lingers for a moment, her thoughts so loud she practically has thought bubbles popping up above her head.

  Finally, she lets out a deep breath and takes a slow sip of coffee on her way into the bar.

  ***

  I slide my jacket on and take one last look at myself in the mirror before heading downstairs into the bakery.

  “Monica, I’ll be out for a while,” I shout towards the front.

  “Wait, what?”

  She spins away from the register and follows me into the kitchen. “Where are you going?”

  “I have an errand to run,” I answer.

  “But…” she squints with confusion, “it’s six o’clock.”

  “So?”

  “At night.”

  “And?”

  Her brow peaks. “Do you have a date?”

  I shake my head. “No, I don’t have a date.”

  “Then, where are you going?”

  “Just…” I reach into my pocket to make sure I have my keys. “Watch the bakery. You can handle that, right?”

  “Duh, it’s a bakery,” she quips.

  “Then, what’s the problem?”

  “I’ve literally never seen you leave in the evening before. Like… never. Aren’t you usually sleeping or something?”

  “I have a life outside of this place, you know.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  I sigh. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t forget to set the alarm before you leave.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You forget to set the alarm one time…”

  I throw the alleyway door open. “Bye, Monica.”

  As I drive through the awful evening traffic of Boston, I once again remember why I don’t like to go out in the evenings but this particular errand deserves a little more than a phone call.

  It’s been a long while since I’ve set foot inside the Boston Police Department’s 18th Precinct but Officer Sa
lly Gilmore still looks exactly the same. She used to patrol the great streets of Boston in uniform until an injury put her behind the desk for good. Minor street thugs heaved a sigh of relief once that news went public but her name still invokes a chill down the spines of those who felt her handcuffs back in the day.

  Watch your back out there — or Gilmore will get ya.

  Her middle-aged face sours up as I walk in and she stares at me over the top of her thick glasses.

  “I knew it,” she says, shaking her head.

  I pause. “Knew what?”

  “I could feel it… I could just feel that cloud drifting over the horizon; inching towards me like a damn great white shark looking to rip my intestines out with its gnarly teeth while I’m still alive and, behold… here you are.”

  “It’s nice to see you, too, Sally.”

  She frowns. “Officer Gilmore.”

  “How’s the knee?”

  “Not nearly as awful as the pain in my ass that just walked through my door but it’s manageable.”

  I grin. “Is Anna here?”

  “Depends,” she says. “What trouble are you bringing her this time?”

  “I’m not bringing her any trouble. I just want to talk to her.”

  “Does she want to talk to you?”

  “Probably.” She stares me down, firm and unmoving. “You know, some might argue that I’ve more than paid my debt to society.”

  “Society ain’t the one that booked you, Silva,” she says. “That was me.”

  I lean into the counter. “We did have some good times together in the back of that paddy wagon…” I muse, fluttering my lashes at her.

  Her face shows no reaction. Cold as ice.

  Finally, she heaves a breath and juts her chin down the hall. “Anna’s upstairs. Don’t bother her for too long.”

  “I just need five minutes.”

  “I’ll be counting.”

  I wink at her as I turn away. “Bye, Sally.”

  “Officer Gilmore.”

  I take the stairs two at a time until I reach the fourth floor; home of the best detectives to ever grace the city but I’m a bit biased towards one of them in particular.