Sugar Sweet Sin

Cakes and Confessions

In my opinion, there's no greater pleasure in the world than the buttery, slightly nutty flavor of a classic caramel sauce. The secret is, of course, to add a pinch of salt—just enough to stimulate the taste buds but not so much that you overpower the sauce's warm, buttery sweetness. For such a simple recipe, even the smallest change can make a huge difference—using brown sugar instead of white, for example—and after hours of experimenting, I think I've gotten my version just right. I've finally created a mouthwatering, toe-curling, devilishly perfect caramel sauce.

Who needs sex when the world holds pleasures like this?

I'm still licking bits of it off my spoon when I hear the jingle of the bell hanging on my bakery's front door.

"I'm coming!" I call around my mouthful of caramel. I toss my spoon aside and wipe my hands on my apron as I jog out of the kitchen.

Jack Teegan, my best friend, is standing at the counter with a large to-go bag in his hand. His eyes are roaming over the refrigerated cases of sweets on display. Ashlyn's Bakeshop sells a little bit of everything—tarts, éclairs, sweet buns, and a number of classic French desserts that no one here in Los Angeles seems to know how to pronounce—but I do the bulk of my business in specialty cakes, sculpted creations so wild that some of them hardly resemble cake at all.

Jack is looking at one of my latest creations in the case right now, a dummy cake sculpted to look like a man's chest—complete with bulging pecs and washboard abs.

"Classy, Ashlyn," he says with a laugh.

"It's the latest trend in bachelorette party cakes," I reply, propping my elbows on the counter.

"What happened to penis cakes?"

I grin. "I can't exactly put one of those in the front case." Sometimes I can't believe my business has come to this—carving men's body parts out of cake. But I'll take whatever work I can get.

Jack grins. "If you ever need a model..."

"Got it, perv. What did you bring me for dinner?"

He holds up the bag so I can see the GoGo's Drive-In logo on the side. "Chili cheese fries, extra cheese."

I squeal and grab the bag. "You're the best."

I practically skip over to the small table in the corner of the shop. On most days, this table is where I hold cake tastings. But it's Monday, the one day a week my shop is closed, so Jack and I decided to meet up for dinner. I pull my box of fries out of the bag and push the rest of the food back towards Jack.

"They're probably soggy," he warns me as he unwraps his burger.

"They're best when they're soggy," I reply. I shove a handful of fries in my mouth and close my eyes in ecstasy. "God, I love you. In a platonic way, of course." I grab a second handful before the first is even down my throat. "And I've got a surprise for you for dessert. I just perfected my caramel recipe."

"I've got a surprise for you, too. A big one."

My fist of fries freezes halfway to my mouth.

"You mean..." I lean across the table, my eyes searching his. "Ohmygod, did you ask Evan? You asked Evan, didn't you?"

Jack opens his mouth to respond, but I'm still trying to process this monumental news.

"You bastard! Why didn't you tell me last night was the night? I would have made you a special engagement dessert or something! Tell me everything. How did you do it? What did he say? I wasn't going to bring this up yet, but I've been working on designs for the cake—"