Page 81 of My Fiancé's Brother
“Jackson,” I said softly. “You don’t have to.”
He started to walk out of the kitchen. “See you in a bit.”
We steppedinto the bakery that I had made an appointment with to do a cake tasting. A woman stepped forward and introduced herself as Margaret.
“So glad that you and your fiancé could come. I know you said that he was too busy so this is fantastic,” she beamed up at Jackson.
My lips parted, trying to find the words to tell the woman that I had brought a different man other than my fiancé to my cake tasting but before I could find the words, Jackson reached out and shook her hand. He beamed her a smile and said, “Wouldn’t miss it.”
She had the same reaction any female, not six feet under would have on the receiving end of a Jackson smile. Her mouth parted slightly. She turned a pretty pink, touched her throat and giggled. “That’s so sweet.”
She stared stupidly up at him and his smile.
We waited.
She blushed even harder. “Oh, please come with me.”
She led us to the back room. Jackson looked behind at me and winked. I responded by rolling my eyes at him. I was starting to realize that this man knew what he was doing with the opposite sex.
We both stopped when we came to the table. On five white trays, there was slice after slice of different types of cake all marked with tiny cards. Angel cake, red velvet cake, banana cake, spice cake, vanilla cake, chocolate cake. The list just went on and on.
Jackson whistled under his breath.
Margaret laughed. “We’ve got coffee and water. Lots of forks. And here is a sheet for you to make notes on. Just have fun.”
Margaret promised to return and then we were left standing there.
I picked up the sheet and pencil and looked around. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Process of elimination?”
I smiled. “You know it.”
Thirty minutes later,Jackson was staring at the three pieces of cake left. “It’s between the chocolate ganache, the black forest cake, and the German chocolate cake.”
I shook my head. “I don’t even want cake at the wedding anymore. If I don’t eat another bite of cake in my lifetime, I'm okay.”
He looked at me amused. “You’re a lightweight.”
“You pick.”
He gave me a pointed look. “You’re seriously giving up?”
“I call it a graceful defeat.”
I watched as he took a tiny bite of the first cake, chewing with a seriousness of a MasterChef judge. “I think the cake is light but maybe the ganache is too sweet.”
I leaned forward, spellbound. “Okay.”
He tried the German chocolate cake. He looked thoughtful. “This is excellent. Dark, rich, moist.”
My eyes were on his lips. He lifted his fork, and I saw his perfect white teeth as he tried the black forest cake. A flashback of those teeth nipping my bottom lip flooded my mind. I struggled to breathe.
“I like this one too,” he mused.
“What do you like about it?” I asked eagerly. Lord, I loved those lips.
His eyes turned and looked directly at me. “I like cherries.”
