Welcome to Wickedly Sweet, where each bite is sinfully delicious.
Noa Baudet has always longed to open her own specialist cupcake shop. So, when an opportunity arises at her favourite bakery in her hometown, Noa ditches her tailored suits for a flo...
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Lady B had been right. The weather outside was lovely for a spring day. While I baked in the kitchen, I couldn't help but stare out the window, yearning for a few minutes to enjoy it. The urge rarely hit me, as I accepted my days would mostly be inside at this point.
After Anika left, Daan and I took it in turns to serve the lunchtime crowd and by 2.00pm, we were both famished. Well, mostly me, seeing as Daan demolished most of the pastries laid out for him on the tasting table. He even helped himself to two cups of tea to wash them down. His sister only ate a couple before her morning sickness kicked in.
"More like all day sickness," she said, rushing to the toilet, her hand covering her mouth. Feeling the sudden need to rest up, she excused herself and promised to visit again soon.
The gap between customers had grown and despite it not being common practice, we decided we would both take a fifteen-minute lunch break together. What harm could we do in such a short amount of time?
I left Daan in charge of writing a note for the front door, while I made us a batch of cheese and pickle sandwiches, and a flask of coffee. As I passed the racks of cooling chocolate twists, I chose two of them for after.
The afternoon rays covered most of the courtyard in a bright, warm blanket. With its fragrant pink roses and overgrown blackberry bushes, the area looked so inviting, despite the lack of seating. Lady B refused to add a bench, or even a plastic stool to the garden, claiming it would stop us—well, mainly her—from spending prolonged breaks lapping up the sun. We lived in England. The days of lapping up the afternoon sun were few and far between.
I contemplated borrowing the bistro chairs from inside, but settled on a picnic blanket I found in the office. I dusted it off from any cobwebs and swept the dead leaves on the ground with my foot. The cobblestones were hard and cool to the touch, but with only fifteen minutes on the slightly padded fabric, we would barely notice.
"Well, doesn't this look cosy. If I didn't know better, Miss Baudet, I'd think you were trying to seduce me." Daan chucked a couple of packets of salt and vinegar crisps beside me and sat down. With his sleeves still rolled up, I had to stop myself from just staring at his forearms as they flexed. Forearms weren't even my thing. Not even if they were attached to gorgeous, strong hands. Such strong hands.
My nose prickled, making me wipe at it with the back of my hand. Probably hay fever. "You wish," I answered, and took a large bite out of my sandwich. I almost moaned as the soft bread touched my teeth and stuck to the roof of my mouth. Food most definitely tasted better when you were hungry.
"So where do you reckon my gran went today? Did she say anything to you?"
I hid my mouth behind my arm, sandwich still in hand, and swallowed before answering. "Not a word. I was as surprised as you. She told me last time, so maybe it slipped her mind."
