are you sure you don’t want yellow bricks?
Jake chuckled and sent back: Looks fantastic and I’m positive. I don’t need all my guests making wizard of oz jokes, thanks.
About half an hour later, when Jake was in the middle of trying to get the lumps out of the batter for the pound cake they were making, Dakota replied. Jake swiped to see the message, leaving behind a trail of flour on his phone screen.
You’re missing out on a golden opportunity. How’s the head?
“Don’t you stop mixing,” Matt warned him. “You finish with that batter before you respond to your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” said Jake, resisting the urge to flick some of the batter at Matt’s face.
“Whatever you say.” Matt opened the oven and bent to look inside. “Come here, and tell me if you think this is done.”
Jake squinted in at the cookies. They were massive, edges touching, and looked very fluffy. “I think they’re done,” he said. “We can always stick them back in if they’re not.” He moved out of the way so Matt could pull the cookies out.
While Matt’s back was turned, he responded to Dakota’s message. Getting better. Bit of a headache.
Once he’d finished removing the lumps from his batter, he handed it off to Matt to be poured into the pan and snapped a picture of the snickerdoodle cookies. He sent it to Dakota and captioned it: Just made these.
Matt bumped him to the side, said, “You’re ridiculous. Are you going to invite him over to try them?” He popped the cake into the oven. “What do you want to make next?”
Jake wanted to, he really, really did. But he wasn’t going to. All he could imagine was Dakota politely declining the invitation via text and…. Yeah, no. He could do without the rejection.
“Let’s try cupcakes.”
HIS CAR smelled like a bakery, and it kind of resembled one too. He had stack after stack of pans filled with cakes, cookies, cupcakes, brownies, tarts, and pastries loaded into the back seat. There was a chance that Matt and he had gone a little overboard in his week and a half of being homebound. Jake was pretty sure they’d each gained twenty pounds apiece.
He parked the car carefully and disembarked, rounding it to open the back door. Most of the crew were already present, so he waved and yelled a greeting to get their attention. “I’ve got baked goods,” he said. “Help yourself to them. Take them home with you if you want. I just need the pans back if you do.”
“You really don’t do well with inactivity.” Jake turned, wincing a little with how fast he did, and smiled widely at an equally smiley Dakota.
“Hi,” he said. If it came out a little breathy, well, he had just been concussed. “Do you want anything? I’ve got pretty much everything.”
Dakota walked around the car, bumping shoulders with him when he got near. He bent to look in at all the food. “You kept sending me pictures of everything. I almost want to try it all.”
“You can,” said Jake. “It’s all edible.”
Dakota laughed at that. “What a rousing endorsement.” They moved out of the way so the horde of construction workers could sort through the lot. “What do you recommend?”
“The lemon bars,” said Jake. They were like slices of heaven. He’d eaten an entire pan of them by himself. “The cinnamon Bundt cake is really good too. There’s like four of them in there.” That had been a favorite of Matt’s. “Really, it’s all good. And I’ve got more at home, so if you want something that we run out of here I can always bring it to you.”
“There’s more at home?” Dakota looked at him in disbelief. “Just how much did you bake?”
Jake scratched at his chin. “Well,” he hedged, feeling his cheeks flush when Dakota started to laugh.
“Are you going to open a bakery?” asked Dakota. “You’ve really taken to baking it seems.”
“No,” said Jake, glancing down at his once flat stomach. “I’d be round as a house
Jake chuckled and sent back: Looks fantastic and I’m positive. I don’t need all my guests making wizard of oz jokes, thanks.
About half an hour later, when Jake was in the middle of trying to get the lumps out of the batter for the pound cake they were making, Dakota replied. Jake swiped to see the message, leaving behind a trail of flour on his phone screen.
You’re missing out on a golden opportunity. How’s the head?
“Don’t you stop mixing,” Matt warned him. “You finish with that batter before you respond to your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” said Jake, resisting the urge to flick some of the batter at Matt’s face.
“Whatever you say.” Matt opened the oven and bent to look inside. “Come here, and tell me if you think this is done.”
Jake squinted in at the cookies. They were massive, edges touching, and looked very fluffy. “I think they’re done,” he said. “We can always stick them back in if they’re not.” He moved out of the way so Matt could pull the cookies out.
While Matt’s back was turned, he responded to Dakota’s message. Getting better. Bit of a headache.
Once he’d finished removing the lumps from his batter, he handed it off to Matt to be poured into the pan and snapped a picture of the snickerdoodle cookies. He sent it to Dakota and captioned it: Just made these.
Matt bumped him to the side, said, “You’re ridiculous. Are you going to invite him over to try them?” He popped the cake into the oven. “What do you want to make next?”
Jake wanted to, he really, really did. But he wasn’t going to. All he could imagine was Dakota politely declining the invitation via text and…. Yeah, no. He could do without the rejection.
“Let’s try cupcakes.”
HIS CAR smelled like a bakery, and it kind of resembled one too. He had stack after stack of pans filled with cakes, cookies, cupcakes, brownies, tarts, and pastries loaded into the back seat. There was a chance that Matt and he had gone a little overboard in his week and a half of being homebound. Jake was pretty sure they’d each gained twenty pounds apiece.
He parked the car carefully and disembarked, rounding it to open the back door. Most of the crew were already present, so he waved and yelled a greeting to get their attention. “I’ve got baked goods,” he said. “Help yourself to them. Take them home with you if you want. I just need the pans back if you do.”
“You really don’t do well with inactivity.” Jake turned, wincing a little with how fast he did, and smiled widely at an equally smiley Dakota.
“Hi,” he said. If it came out a little breathy, well, he had just been concussed. “Do you want anything? I’ve got pretty much everything.”
Dakota walked around the car, bumping shoulders with him when he got near. He bent to look in at all the food. “You kept sending me pictures of everything. I almost want to try it all.”
“You can,” said Jake. “It’s all edible.”
Dakota laughed at that. “What a rousing endorsement.” They moved out of the way so the horde of construction workers could sort through the lot. “What do you recommend?”
“The lemon bars,” said Jake. They were like slices of heaven. He’d eaten an entire pan of them by himself. “The cinnamon Bundt cake is really good too. There’s like four of them in there.” That had been a favorite of Matt’s. “Really, it’s all good. And I’ve got more at home, so if you want something that we run out of here I can always bring it to you.”
“There’s more at home?” Dakota looked at him in disbelief. “Just how much did you bake?”
Jake scratched at his chin. “Well,” he hedged, feeling his cheeks flush when Dakota started to laugh.
“Are you going to open a bakery?” asked Dakota. “You’ve really taken to baking it seems.”
“No,” said Jake, glancing down at his once flat stomach. “I’d be round as a house
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