Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Since it was the end of the day and there had only been one order left for pick up, I’d let the rest of the staff go home at five o’clock. I hummed along with the song on the radio as I finished cleaning the inside of the display cases before working my way around the counter to wipe the exterior. Toni Basil’s Mickey began playing over the speaker as I sprayed the glass. The song gave me a little extra pep in my step and I found myself bobbing along to the beat as I wiped away the handprints that had been left throughout the day. I was shaking my rear end as I worked a particular sticky set of handprints when the chime sounded announcing a customer.
“Just one second,” I called over my shoulder. “I’m almost finished.”
After one last good swipe of the glass, I turned to face the customer with a smile. “Welcome to Sweet Like…”
My sentence trailed off when I came face-to-face with a man who I was drawn to in the most elemental of ways. He was tall, maybe six foot two or so. He had a short beard and dulce de leche colored hair. When I looked into his eyes, I found they were focused on me intently. His lips moved as he mouthed the word wow. He was wearing a pair of navy blue dress pants and a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Never had a set of forearms looked more attractive. We stared at each other for countless seconds before the sound of a little boy talking broke it up.
I’d been so caught up in staring at the man that I hadn’t realized he had a little boy with him. Looking down, I saw a blonde haired child with a giant smile and two perfect dimples holding the man’s hand. My shoulders sagged with disappointment as my cheeks flushed. I was unreasonably devastated that the man was clearly married, with a young child. If only I’d met him before, I thought.
“You’re here for the robot cake, right?” I asked with forced enthusiasm.
The man’s eyes never left me as he nodded. “Uh… yeah. Right… robots.”
He seemed dazed, but his voice was sexy and deep. Something about it set off butterflies inside of me. It was like I’d been waiting to hear it my whole life. I mentally chided myself for thinking such thoughts about a married man with a child. Forcing myself into action, I turned and walked behind the counter. I’d gotten the cake out before I started cleaning, which meant it was right next to the register.
The little boy lit up when I lifted the lid to show him the cake. He tugged at his father’s pant leg and shouted, “Up! Up! Pick up!”
I grinned at his enthusiasm. The cake was quite something, decorated with robots and gears, it was a little boy’s paradise. I had worked for hours to get the fondant figures to look just so, and I was proud of the cake. Right at the top it read Happy Birthday Emmett.
I smiled across the counter at the sweet little boy who was on his father’s hip as he clapped excitedly. “Look! Thems is my ‘bots!”
The man was staring at me like there was going to be a test later. He blinked down at his son, almost like he’d forgotten he was even there.
“That’s right, Emmett. Those are your robots, just like you wanted and they’re awesome,” he said. “You think I can eat the blue one after you blow out the candles tomorrow?”
The boy’s brow furrowed in concentration. “How many ‘bots is there?”
The man looked back down at the cake. “There’s yellow, blue, green, gray, and white,” he noted. “When I point to the robot, you count.”
Emmett nodded his head and clapped. “I good at countin’!”
The man pointed to them one at a time and the little boy counted to five. “You can has a leg,” he announced after he finished. “I share one leg with you.”
As they talked about which leg the man would eat I pulled the order slip off the box and entered in the time of pick-up on the counter computer. With it right in my face I saw in the notes from when the order was placed that although his wife, Jamie Brewster, had chosen the cake, her husband Harrison would be picking it up. I wrinkled my nose as I stared at the screen. He didn’t look like a Harrison to me.
When I looked up from the computer, Harrison Brewster was staring at me like I was an all you can eat buffet and he was on day eighty-nine of a hunger strike. My skin prickled with awareness as my mouth went dry. I’d never met anyone I was so attracted to, which really sucked considering he was married. I knew I was being overly dramatic, but it physically pained me to think of him with anyone else—of having a family with a woman who wasn’t me.