Naughty Fantasy Come True
I never run out of flour. How the hell does a baker run out of flour?! I only made ... six different batches of cookies.
With a groan, I stomped toward my door, no longer afraid to pay a visit to my ever-so-friendly neighbor. But as soon as I swung my door open, he was already there, his arms crossed leaning against the wall next to my door.
When he saw me, the edge of his lip curled up. "Need something, short-stack?"
"I thought we established over an hour ago my name is Katy," I groaned, all politeness out the window hours ago.
He kicked off the wall to tower over me, hands in his front pockets.
I noticed he finally found a shirt too. "Maybe, but seeing your reaction is a lot more fun. I think I deserve that after loaning you my kitchen. Which, I'm guessing you're coming over for something else?"
I bit my lip to hold the words back letting him know he was right. He took my silence as confirmation and walked past me toward my door. It took me a moment to register what just happened, but when I did, I spun around to see him walking in my apartment.
"What are you doing?"
He paused to look back at me. "I'm going to show you how to make cocoa cappuccino cookies."
I couldn't refrain from gawking even if I tried. "You what? How did you—?"
"I could tell by the ingredients." For the first time I saw him smile as he opened my door even wider. "Just come in. I even brought you flour," he held up the bag for proof.
I stood frozen in amazement at the situation. Not only was he inviting me to my own room, but he was making the cookies I'd been slaving over all night? No. No way was he going to accomplish this. This was ridiculous. And just because I was following him inside didn't mean I still didn't think it was ridiculous!
Gage eyed my kitchen and let out a low whistle. "That's some damage you got there."
"Yeah, but I like it that way," I shut the door behind me.
His eyes flicked up to mine, then back at the kitchen counter covered in flour and egg shells. "Yeah ... I understand."
I could have been imagining it but I could have sworn something flashed across his eyes. Something ... sad. Although I knew he didn't like people prying because he thinks it's nosy, I couldn't help but want to understand his reaction. It made me concerned even if I hardly know him. But before I could ask, he rolled up his sleeves and opened up the bag of flour.
"Now," he sprinkled some on the counter, "let's do this the right way."
I took a seat at the kitchen table watching him as he worked diligently.
I should have been troubled that there was a stranger in my kitchen at midnight making cookies, but for some reason, I wasn't. Not just because he was making cookies, but because there was something almost therapeutic about watching the way Gage worked so soundlessly in my kitchen. He was this big, intimidating-looking guy, but when he baked, it told a different story.
Like the way he used his thick muscles not to harm but to stir the mixture together with a fixed look on his stern face. Or the way his large, inked hands rolled the soft brown dough around into tiny, perfect sized balls so effortlessly. He was clearly skilled at this and incredibly passionate, something you wouldn't really expect when first looking at him. But looking at him now, I felt like he wasn't really a stranger.
It was one of the reasons why I've always loved watching people work, like those moments when Lamar was prepping or Ellie was straightening the displays. This was exactly like that. And again, I couldn't suppress my desire to want to know more.
"You bake?" I asked as he rolled the cookie dough into balls.
"For the most part," he said placing one on a cookie sheet.
I guess that was as far as he would let on. Not that I expected much. So I took a different route.
"I'm assuming your love for baking didn't start from an Easy-Bake oven like mine," I smiled.
It felt like a prize when I could get him to crack a smile. "Nah," he shook his head placing the cookies in the oven. "Although my aunt tried to buy me one."
"Yeah." Now I could tell he was smiling more at the memory than what I said. He leaned against the oven, arms crossed, as he looked down at his feet. Slowly, the smile started to fade from his lips. I wanted it to return but I didn't know how.
The entire time was wasted in silence as I tried to figure out how to make him smile again. The apartment was filled with the smell of cookies and the sound of him opening and closing the oven door periodically. By the time I could think of some conversation, the oven went off.
So quickly I almost didn't see it, he grabbed a nearby rag, opened the door, and pulled out the cookies.
I shot up from my seat to assess his work. When I did, I noticed only a slight difference from my other batches, mostly in color. Even so, I had to admit ... they looked perfect.
"Moment of truth," he said fanning a cookie then popping it off the sheet.
He placed one in my hand before collecting his own. It was warm, almost hot, and perfectly golden around the edges. It practically fell apart in my hand it was so gooey. And the smell...
My mouth was already a fountain before I even took a bite. Gage was the first to dive in and I followed right after him. When my teeth sank into the cookie, there was a light crunching sound, almost inaudible because it was so soft. From there, the cookie melted on my tongue and the flavor exploded.
Chocolate, coffee, cinnamon, and something else. Something that I could taste but couldn't define. The missing ingredient.
"Oh my god," I moaned taking another bite. "Oh my god, Gage. These ... wow. Wow, Gage."
He raised an eyebrow as he chewed. "I can only imagine what our neighbors are thinking."
( Except the title, the post has not been edited by Team Kamuklife and originally appeared at The Cosmopolitan Bedroom Blog)