Burning Desire

Chapter 11

"I think you're overthinking it." Kacey pointed a spatula at me.

We'd been standing in her kitchen, making cupcakes all morning. I'd decided to take the day off and help out after she'd called me at five in the morning, complaining about how hard it was going to be to do all the cooking herself.

Kacey's friend, Erica, was getting married, and something had gone awry with the original dessert caterers, which left Erica without a wedding cake or any other desserts. She was unable to find another caterer at the last minute, considering the wedding was Wednesday night, and it was currently Wednesday morning. As a result, she'd begged and pleaded for Kacey to make the cake, cupcakes, and pies. Apparently, Kacey had a history of not knowing when to say no to a seemingly impossible last-minute task.

Baking was the last thing I wanted to spend my Wednesday doing. Desserts had never been my forte, and I had a million other things I could be doing at the office. But I could hear the frustration in Kacey's voice, and I would've felt bad if I'd left her to handle it herself, so I ended up taking the day off to help her out.

We'd barely finished the fifth batch of cupcakes, and this chore was becoming a nightmare.

"It's just bothering me," I groaned, referring to the New York Times contest we'd been discussing for twenty minutes.

Kacey had asked me about my submission and I had to repeat everything to her that I'd told Selena. I was still stressing over whether either entry had been "good enough."

"I really want to have some luck with this. It's such a huge opportunity if they notice me!"

"And I really want to have some luck with these damn cupcakes!" Kacey made a face at the one she was putting chocolate frosting on. "Why can't they make themselves? Or why can't I have eight ovens? And who in their right mind invites three hundred people to a wedding?"

Who in their right mind takes on the chore of making all these desserts?

We'd spent two hours going to four different grocery stores to buy out the entire shelves of chocolate and vanilla cupcake mixes and pie shells, as well as too much milk, an ungodly number of egg cartons, and various other cooking essentials. The cashiers had looked at us like we were insane, and I couldn't say I blamed them. We were a two-person baking circus. All that was missing were clown aprons.

In the midst of our mutual frustration and Kacey's never-ending complaints, it occurred to me that I might have a solution to the madness.

"Kacey, I think I know how to make some of this go faster," I told her, washing some frosting off my hands and retrieving my phone.

I went to the other room to call Alex.

"Stephens," he answered on the third ring.

A warm, fuzzy feeling crept up my body. I was happy to hear his voice. It was soft and sweet, like curling up in a plush blanket.

I smiled at the phone. "Hey, Alex."

"Oh, hey!" He sounded equally as delighted to hear from me. "How's the baking going?"

Ironically, at the same time as he asked, I heard a crash come from the kitchen, and a half dozen curse words leave Kacey's mouth.

"Quite riveting!" I giggled sarcastically. "That's actually what I'm calling you about."

"Okay. What's going on?"

I hoped it wasn't too forward to ask, but we desperately needed the help. One oven just was not cutting it. Kacey was insane to take on such a chore.