Page 41 of Wild King
Needing to get out of my own head because I’ve spent way too much damn time there these past few weeks, I crane my neck to see what’s in that bowl. It looks like a yellowish mixture of some sort.
“So what are you making?” I ask, eager to change the subject.
She smiles and says, “Cupcakes. They’re my favorite go-to recipe when I feel stuck.”
What does she mean by stuck? Is it that she can’t fix my reputation and she doesn’t want to admit that? After a month hidden away in this house from the rest of the world, am I still the bastard everyone hates?
Is no one willing to forgive me?
I don’t ask any of those questions mostly because I don’t want to hear the answers. Instead, I hop off the stool and walk over to where the mixing bowl sits on the counter. Dipping my finger into the batter, I take a taste of what I think are going to be yellow cupcakes.
“Tastes good. When my brothers and I were small, my mother used to make a carrot cake that tasted delicious. She’d let us lick the beaters and the bowl. Ronan and I loved it the most. Since we were the two youngest, we always got the biggest portion of the leftover batter.”
My comment makes Salem smile, and she asks, “Did you have a nice childhood?”
“The best,” I answer with a big grin as memories of those years fill my mind. “I grew up at the house where that lovely meeting took place. Summers were filled with long days in the pool and winters were all about building snowmen and sledding down the front lawn. I had four brothers, and the five of us were a handful.”
Salem smiles as I talk about my childhood, but her happiness dims and she says, “I’m sorry about your brother’s passing.”
Like always when I think about Theo or someone mentions him, my chest tightens. “Theo was the best. He loved having fun.”
“He sounds like a great guy.”
I nod and take another taste of the cupcake batter. “He lived every day to the fullest. I want to say I do that, but I’m not sure I can. These past few months definitely haven’t been an example of that.”
She crouches down to open a cabinet and pulls out a muffin pan. Setting it on the counter next to the bowl of batter, she grabs a pack of pink and yellow cupcake liners and starts putting one in each muffin cup.
“This isn’t meant to be a form of punishment, Kellen. I know you think it is, but I swear that wasn’t my intention.”
I hate that she thinks I’m some asshole who doesn’t understand why she did what she did. “I know. I didn’t act like it, but I get it. Every minute I’m out in public even just doing innocent, everyday things, there’s a chance someone is going to misinterpret something.”
Every muffin cup lined, she looks around like she’s lost something. “What’s up?” I ask, unsure what else she could need.
“I thought I had a scooper out. I know I saw one when I was getting everything together.”
Knowing exactly where that utensil was kept when I was a kid and visited my grandparents, I open the drawer next to the one that holds the silverware and see an ice cream scooper. I hold it up in front of her and smile.
“Is this what you want?”
Normally, I’d work with the double entendre, but today, I’m having too good a time just hanging out with Salem to work the sex angle. Not that I don’t want her. Of course, I do. She’s gorgeous, smart, and great in bed.
But even more, she’s trying so hard to help me even after I was a complete and utter jackass to her that I have to admire her. She’s the whole package, and for a single day, she was mine.
I can only hope once this stage of my life is over and I can show my face in public that she’ll be mine again.
Salem takes the scooper and says, “Do you know what one of the best secrets to making great cupcakes is?”
Pointing at the scooper as she dips it into the batter, I say, “I’m assuming it involves using that.”
“It does,” she says with a smile as she begins to fill the empty muffin cups. “You want to fill each one about two-thirds of the way up. Overfilling is one of the worst things you can do.”
As I watch her carefully measure out exactly enough to fill each cup to the same height, I joke, “I’d put murder and stealing from old people up at the top of the list of the worst things you can do, but maybe overfilling when you’re making cupcakes could be third on the list. I’ll agree to that.”
That gets me a serious look and an eyeroll. “You know what I meant. One of the worst things to do when you’re making cupcakes.”
“I know. I was just trying to make you laugh.”
“Ah.”