Get You Good (9 page)

“Yeah,” Hayden said. “We were considering him for our draft pick.”

Sydney zoned out as the boys went into game talk.

“Get used to it,” Maritza said with a laugh as she caught the blank look on Sydney's face. “These men eat, sleep, and breathe basketball. It's like the default conversation when they get together.”

“I figured as much,” Sydney said with a smile. “It's OK, though. At least they're passionate about something. I wish I could get my brother to focus and dedicate himself to working on one thing that made some sort of sense.”

“I hear you,” Maritza said. “I have three younger brothers, and Lord knows they keep me and my mother on our knees praying they get it right.”

Sydney smiled as she found immediate kinship with another member of the big-sisters' club.

“Ma'am, your order?”

Sydney looked up and saw the waitress standing over them. Her mouth fell open.

“Already?”

Maritza grinned. “See? I told you.”

Sydney laughed as the waitress put the food on the table. And as she listened to the banter between Maritza, Sean, and Hayden, and joined in a bit of it herself, she found herself laughing more than she had in a long time. So much so that when she finally checked the time, she couldn't believe how late it was.

“Oops, that's my time,” Sydney said, sitting up suddenly and nudging Maritza out of the booth. “Scoot over, Miss Wall Street.”

“Where are you going?” Maritza asked as Sydney slipped out of the booth.

“Home.”

A chorus of disapproval went up from the other three at the table.

“What for?” Sean asked, even as he made space for Hayden to get out. “It's barely after eleven.”

“Yeah, but I have a cake tasting for a wedding on Tuesday morning,” Sydney said, shouldering her purse.

“Girl, you've been working way too hard,” Maritza said with a shake of her head. “You're way into the week and it's only Sunday.”

“It's not that, Mari,” Hayden said with a chuckle. “A Tuesday-morning tasting for Sydney means she has to make the cakes tomorrow morning so she has time to ice them.”

Sydney raised an eyebrow at him in surprise.

“Right?” he confirmed.

“Right.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “How do you know that?”

“I do know some things about what you do, Syd,” he said with a grin.

“OK, fine, but this means you'll have to come over next weekend,” Maritza said. “You're the first girlfriend that Dub has actually claimed voluntarily. You've got to let me in on how you got him to do that.”

Sydney and Hayden began speaking at the same time.

“Actually, I'm not his . . .”

“We're not really . . .”

They glanced at each other awkwardly before looking away.

“It's not really like that,” Sydney said, fiddling with the edge of her jacket.

Sean snorted and reached for a chicken wing. “OK. Whatever you say.”

“No, really . . .” Sydney began.

“We're not . . .” Hayden continued.

“. . . together,” Sydney finished.

“Mhmm,” Maritza said with a mischievous grin. “All right, then. Well, in that case, can you two bring your not-together selves over to the house next weekend?”

Hayden grinned. “We'll see.”

“It was nice to meet you, Maritza,” Sydney said with a wave.

“Talk to you soon, guys,” Hayden said as he led Sydney away.

Sydney grinned as she glanced back at the couple who had moved to one side of the booth together.

“I like her,” Sydney said, glancing up at Hayden.

“Yeah, I'm sure you do,” Hayden said with a snort. “Sometimes when I hear her and Sean, I get flashbacks of arguing with you.”

“Aww,” Sydney teased as she stepped out the front door he held open. “Are you saying you missed me, Dub?”

“I'm saying you better move your behind,” he said, taking off in a sprint. “Unless you want to walk it all the way home.”

Sydney laughed as she took off behind him. It was going to take a lot for her to keep up with this man—in more ways than one.

S
ydney hated early mornings. Especially at this time of the year when six a.m. looked like midnight. But it was the price she had to pay to have the kind of job that never felt like work. In any case, getting up was really the worst part. She knew as soon as she was elbow deep in flour and sugar she would be wide awake. The best part was that she would have the kitchen all to herself. That was when she did her best work.

The silence welcomed her as she stepped through the back door of Decadent, in from the nippy, late-fall breeze. She shed her coat, closed the door securely behind her, and went straight to the kitchen, where she went through her routine of putting up her hair, setting the radio in the kitchen to the jazz station, and getting out the items for the first cake. She planned to work on three cakes for her client. The first two were obvious choices: devil's food cake and a vanilla layer cake, two of the most popular cakes for weddings. However, to stir things up a bit, she was also making a coconut cake with lime-curd filling. It was not as traditional as the other wedding cake options, but whenever she'd offered it to brides in the past, five out of ten times they went with it.

Special-occasion cakes were Sydney's favorite orders. That's when she could get as creative as she wanted, and pull out the cake decorating skills that she had no opportunity to use with her walk-in patrons. It was a bonus that they brought in the most revenue.

She pulled out a couple of mixing bowls, wooden spoons, whisks, and other items, leaving the heavy equipment in its place. For the final product, she would use the electric mixers and other appliances. But the sample cakes she would do by hand—the traditional way. The way that her dad used to do them. When she thought about it now, she couldn't believe he used to make huge wedding cakes and orders for hundreds of people without the aid of modern equipment. Sydney couldn't possibly do that.

With the sound of Coltrane's
Lush Life
in the background, she sifted together flour, baking soda, and salt in one bowl before moving to another to combine sugar and butter. She was just finishing up combining the dry ingredients with the buttermilk mixture to complete the batter when a knock at the door made her start. When the knock came again only moments later, she set down the whisk and made her way to the back door.

“Delivery for Ms. Sydney Isaacs?”

Sydney smirked and opened the door wider for a track suit-and sunglasses-wearing Hayden to come inside.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to mask the delight in her voice as she closed the door behind him. “It's not even seven yet.”

“I came to bring you tea,” he said, holding out a tall cup from Tim Hortons, Canada's answer to Starbucks.

“Don't you have to work today?” she asked, taking the steaming hot gift gratefully and leading him back to the kitchen.

“How about, thank you, Dub, you know I haven't had anything all morning,” he said groggily as he slumped onto a stool near the counter.

She turned around and walked back over to where he was sitting, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you, Dub.” She smiled and lowered her voice. “You know I haven't had anything all morning.”

His lips stretched into a grin from behind the sunglasses. “Well, if that's what I get for some tea, I might have to go back out and get you a whole continental spread.”

“Too late,” Sydney said with a smirk. “That will teach you not to skimp on breakfast.”

“Tease.”

“Cheapo.”

“You're so lucky you're beautiful.”

Sydney stuck out her tongue at him before going back to mixing.

“So how many are you doing today?” he asked.

“Three,” she said, pouring most of the thick brown batter into two baking tins. “This one is the devil's food cake.”

“Ooh, can I taste . . .”

Hayden stretched his hand toward the bowl, but Sydney slapped it away.

“You can't eat sugar first thing in the morning, Dub,” she scolded lightly as she poured the rest of the batter into a smaller tin. “After you eat breakfast, you can eat cake.”

“But Nini . . .”

“Breakfast first, cake later,” said Sydney, firmly moving the bowl out of his reach, before placing the two baking tins in the oven.

“See, this is why I didn't marry you,” Hayden grumbled, heading toward the fridge. “What do you even have in here anyway? It's not like you guys make real food here.”

“I'm sure you can find something,” Sydney said as she pulled out the ingredients for the second cake.

He did, and within moments he was whipping up breakfast burritos, complete with sautéed bell peppers and onions.

“Ooh, that smells good,” Sydney said as she put the batter for the second cake into the oven.

“Tastes good, too,” he said handing her a plate.

Sydney took a bite of the warm burrito and groaned. “Oh, this
is
actually good.”

Hayden grinned. “Told you.”

“No, seriously,” Sydney said, taking another bite. “I haven't had a decent burrito in ages. Did you put garlic in this?”

“My burrito, my secret,” he said from his place on the stool.

“I'll remind you of that when you're reaching for my cake,” Sydney said, wiping her mouth on a napkin.

The sound of jazz floated between them in the kitchen as Sydney set the tester cake to cool and moved around preparing the filling and icing. She could feel Hayden's eyes on her without even looking. But every now and then when she did look, and she caught his eye, a smile would pass between them and Sydney would feel a flutter in her stomach. She wasn't sure what kind of feelings she was having for him, but whatever they were, they were growing fast.

“You know, I always thought of this place as Uncle Leroy's,” he said after a moment. “But watching you here . . .”

She glanced at him as she sliced one of the devil's food cakes in half horizontally to make the two layers. “What?”

“This is your place now, Syd,” he said with a small smile. “I'm really proud of you.”

She smiled. “Thanks,” she said without looking up at him. “But this isn't my place. Not really.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Decadent belongs to my younger brother, Dean,” Sydney said with as much lightness as she could muster given the lump in her throat. “Dean was Dad's only son, and when he died, he left Decadent to him.”

Sydney busied herself shifting the cakes around on the cooling rack so she wouldn't have to see the pity she knew was in Hayden's eyes. She already knew how pathetic she was, pouring her life and soul into something that wasn't even hers. But she didn't need to see that in someone else's eyes. Especially someone else who knew just how much of her life was in this place.

“I'm sorry, Syd,” she heard him say from behind her. “I thought . . . I'm sorry.”

She shrugged. “It's OK. That's just the way life is.”

He sighed. “I don't know why Uncle Leroy did what he did, but he must have had a reason. He knew how much you loved this place. Maybe he was hoping you could get Dean to love it as much as you do. Or maybe he thought you would one day go out on your own. I don't know.”

“Neither do I,” Sydney said. “Sometimes the people you love do things you don't understand. But you can't stop loving them because of it, right?”

Sydney hoped her words didn't sound as hollow as they felt. The truth was she still couldn't come to terms with how everything had worked out and she wasn't sure from one day to the next how she felt about it.

“Well, at least it's still in the family,” Hayden said.

“For now,” Sydney said, still not looking at him. “Dean wants to sell. And since me and my sisters can't afford to buy the place, he may already be looking for other options.”

“You're kidding, right?”

Sydney laughed dryly. “I wish I was.”

“Do you know how soon?”

“We've talked about it almost every day since he came home from college a couple weeks ago,” she said. She moved quickly to pour the batter for the coconut cake into tins, partially to try and finish up quickly and partially so she didn't have to focus on the topic floating around the kitchen.

“We can't come to a resolution.” She moved one cake from the counter into the oven, shifting another tin to another shelf.

“My sisters are fighting with my brother.” She closed the oven and took off her mitts. “My sisters are fighting with each other.”

She grabbed the last tin off the counter and pulled open the oven again.

“It's splitting our family apart.” She shoved the last tin in, moving another to the side to make more space.

“Ouch!” She jumped back from the oven as her bare finger burned on contact with a hot tin. She squeezed back tears, mad at herself for letting the topic of Dean make her so careless.

“Hey, hey, easy.” Hayden was beside her in moments, closing the oven door, taking her burned hand and holding it under the faucet.

Sydney tried to turn her face away from him so he couldn't see the moistness in her eyes, but it was almost impossible with him standing so close to her.

“It's OK to be upset, Syd.” He spoke the words softly and close to her ear. “You put everything into this place and you might lose it. It's OK to be upset about that.”

Turning off the water, he pulled Sydney against him. She buried her face in his chest and let a few teardrops escape. She had always felt guilty about her feelings about losing the store. She had no right to expect anything from her dad or Dean. They were free to do whatever they chose. But that hadn't helped lessen the hollow ache in her chest whenever she thought about what her life would be like without Decadent.

After a moment, she pulled away from him and wiped her face.

“You didn't answer my question earlier,” she said, grabbing a cloth to wipe the counter as she changed the subject. “Don't you have training or work today?”

“Nothing with the team,” he said, gathering the empty breakfast dishes and taking them to the sink. “I have a few appointments. But not until later.”

“What kind of appointments?” Sydney asked. She took out the tester and began adding filling to the first layer.

“Physical therapy appointments,” he said as he started on the dishes. “At my private practice across town.”

Sydney raised an eyebrow. “Private practice, eh? Look at you. Hayden Windsor, the businessman.”

He laughed. “Nothing in the NBA is guaranteed. I could be here today and out of a job at the end of the year.”

“I highly doubt that,” Sydney said as she set the second layer of the tester and continued icing.

“Yeah, well, better safe than sorry,” Hayden said distractedly. Sydney looked up and noticed he had finished cleaning up and was watching her as she carefully spread the buttercream icing.

“Dub, it's not done yet,” she said, knowing exactly what he was thinking. “The icing has to set.”

“Just a taste, Syd,” he said, stepping closer. “Come on, I had breakfast.”

She tried to put on a stern face, but it was no match for his puppy-dog eyes.

“Pleeeeese,” he said in an intentionally childish voice.

She rolled her eyes. “OK, fine.”

She laughed as she watched his eyes light up.

“Come here.” She cut a small piece of the iced cake. “Taste this.”

Instead of waiting for her to set it on something, he grabbed her wrist and brought her fingers to his mouth, pulling her closer to him in the process.

Sydney felt heat cascade through her as he ate the delicate confection right from her hand. Then he took her fingers into his mouth to secure the last bits of icing, and Sydney couldn't breathe. His warm moist lips on her fingers, his eyes on her . . . she couldn't turn away. And before she knew what was happening, he was placing her hand around his neck and cupping her cheek.

And then he kissed her.

His buttercream-tainted lips caressed hers with all the finesse of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, and exactly how to do it to leave a woman completely senseless. Sydney knew then that she was in trouble, because this kiss—the one that she had admittedly waited almost thirteen years for—was the best she had ever had.

The knife clattered noisily to the counter as it slipped from Sydney's fingers, freeing her hand to join the other around Hayden's neck.

“How was it?” She breathed against his lips.

He chuckled, his breath tickling her face. “Good.” He pressed his lips to hers briefly. “Very good.”

He kissed her again. And then a second time. And a third. And then she lost count, and lost awareness of anything other than Hayden. It was only the slam of a door that shattered the moment and brought them back to the present. They jumped apart only moments before the kitchen door banged open.

“Sydney, do you know how long I've been outside knocking? And I called your cell phone like a million times,” Lissandra said, annoyance all over her face. “What the heck were you doing?”

“Uh . . .”

“Eating,” Hayden said, cutting another slice off the tester cake and stuffing it into his mouth. “We were eating cake.”

Sydney looked at her sister and then at Hayden, before bursting into laughter. She could almost see the steam pouring out of Lissandra's ears, but she couldn't stop herself. The look on her sister's face and the buttercream on Hayden's were too much for her. And at that moment it occurred to her that she had laughed more with Hayden in the past few weeks than she had all year.