Page 42 of Wild King
So much for comedy being the way to melting a woman’s heart.
“Well, I’ll leave you to your cupcakes. Maybe you’ll let me have one later. What kind of icing are you putting on them?” I ask as I move away from the counter.
“I was thinking of doing what I call my world famous cream cheese icing.” She stops and looks back at the muffin pan before she adds, “It’s not actually world famous. It’s just what I like.”
“It sounds incredible, so I’ll definitely be up for trying one, if you’re cool with that.”
I’m rewarded with a big smile that lights up her entire beautiful face. “I am. I’ll let you know when they’re ready to eat.”
Turning to go back up to my room, I stop. “Great! I’ll have one for dessert after dinner tonight. By the way, I was thinking about ordering a pizza around five. Would you want to join me? I can get your favorite topping, if you like.”
“Mmmm, that sounds great! Not that I’m not loving the delivery food your brothers provide because those meals have been pretty good too, but pizza sounds like a nice change. I like sausage, but only if it’s the crumbled kind. If it’s the big circular kind, then no.”
I want to make a sexual joke about sausage, but I hold back as I try to figure out the difference between those two types of sausage. I can’t, so I ask, “Do you mind telling me why you don’t like the round sausage on pizza?”
She sets the filled muffin tin in the center of the preheated oven and closes the door. Without missing a beat, she explains, “The round kind makes everything greasy on the rest of the pizza. Same with pepperoni. I’ll eat it by itself, but the minute it’s on a pizza, it makes it a greasy mess.”
Salem stops and winces. “Oh, I probably just insulted your favorite topping, didn’t I? It’s okay. I can eat pepperoni on pizza too.”
Quickly deciding I won’t get my favorite topping, I shake my head and say, “No problem. I’m not really into pepperoni anyway. I like green peppers, which go great with sausage, but only the crumbles and not the round pieces because they’re too greasy.”
With a stare that tells me she thinks I’m making fun of her, she says, “Okay, then sausage and green peppers it is. Do you think we should ask Nathan what he likes? It seems rude not to include him too.”
I glance over my shoulder to make sure he’s not anywhere nearby and look back at her. “We’re going to need more than one pizza then. I bet that guy could eat ten pizzas with the size of him.”
That finally makes her laugh. “I’ll ask him if he wants to join us. If he mentions loving a certain kind of topping, then I’ll let you know. Okay?”
“Okay. See you for dinner.”
“See you for dinner, Kellen.”
While I walk back to my room more excited for pizza than ever before in my life, I’m not sure I’m where I want to be with Salem, but it’s a start.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Salem
The cupcakes turned out perfectly,and the frosting might be my best yet. Sometimes the cream cheese doesn’t mix as well as it needs to, but today, it’s as smooth as can be.
Talking with Kellen was fun too. That’s the side of him I want the world to see. I think if people knew how funny and charming he can be, they’d understand that he’s a regular human being with good and bad sides. That’s all I want. I don’t expect to make him a saint in the public’s eyes. I just want them to accept that he’s a person just like them.
Pleased with how my baking turned out and happy my focus is back, I return to my office to put a call into my favorite private investigator. Ivan has had nearly three weeks to find out everything there is to know about Gina Randolph. That he hasn’t called me in all that time worries me, but nobody’s life is spotless. That I know.
Ivan answers on the first ring and is his usual, tempestuous self. “Salem, how the fuck are you? I was just thinking about you.I was going to call you in a couple minutes. You must be reading my mind.”
“Does that mean you have news for me?” I ask, hoping to God he’s found something.
“I do. Where can we meet in about an hour?”
Looking down at the floury mess all over me, I quickly try to gauge if I can be cleaned up and somewhere in an hour to meet him. Unlikely.
“How about tomorrow? Say around lunch? I’ll treat.”
“No bueno, baby. I have plans. There’s a new woman in Ivan’s life. Why don’t I just come to you? You said you were out somewhere in the wild, right?”
Doubting most people would call Dutchess County the wild, I chuckle. “Not exactly. Where are you now?”
“Driving up the damnable Taconic, and two minutes on this fucking road reminded me why I rarely leave the city. Who in the hell designed this highway? Whoever he was, he had no goddamned sense.”