Let's Bake a Deal, page 2
“I want to take over the bakery. It belongs to my nonna, but my dad is the manager. None of my siblings want it, and Nonna won’t just give it to me. She wants me to jump through hoops. Like giving her another generation of grandchildren.”
“Yeah, you have fun delivering them,” Eva deadpanned, earning Remo’s withering stare. “For real, though. How is dating me supposed to help you when your father already doesn’t like me?”
“It’s my nonna I have to convince, not him. If we date for a while, say, six months, maybe I can convince her I’ve got the right ideas to run everything.”
“All the while tempting her with the idea that she might get more grandchildren,” Eva concluded.
“Exactly. I just need some time.” As they were talking, Remo put the sheet pan full of pastries he’d been preparing into the oven and set the timer. “What do you say? Will you agree to play my girlfriend for the next six months so I can take over my bakery?”
Remo leaned back against the counter and gave her puppy dog eyes.
“What’s in it for me?” Eva asked shrewdly.
“Delicious regular meals with me and my family on Sunday and knowing you helped me thrive?” He quirked his eyebrow at her. It was cute and almost enough temptation on its own.
“No, not good enough. What if I don’t like Italian food? You don’t even know if I’m single. You and your nonna just assumed.”
“Are you single?” Remo asked.
Avoiding his gaze, Eva took the massaging wand to the sink to rinse off. “Yes.”
“Not going to ask me if I’m single?”
“Oh, I know you’re single, dude. You wouldn’t try to fake date me if you already had someone.” Eva paused. “Unless you were ashamed of your sexuality and hiding it.”
“Well... about that,” he said, audibly gulping. “I’m asexual. That’s one reason I’m probably not going to give my nonna babies. I just don’t want to be with anyone.”
“I was not expecting that,” Eva said, facing him again. “That turns the whole virile Italian man stereotype on its ear, doesn’t it?”
This time, Remo avoided her gaze. “It can be problematic.”
“No doubt,” she said softly, breathing in the scent of whatever Remo had in the oven. “That smells sinfully good. If I could have some of those at a program, maybe then people would actually come to them!”
She wasn’t sure why she let that slip out, but Remo immediately stood at attention like he had an idea.
“You need more people in your doors?”
Yes, and a sex educator who wouldn’t bail on her the first time the wind changed direction. Eva wasn’t in her best frame of mind to discuss her business plan, though. The clock on the wall was ticking toward five in the morning, and she was usually asleep by now. Fair was fair, though.
“I want to make The Love Shack seem classy, not like it’s shameful or for perverts. All people have sexual health needs, even asexuals. I want to make a difference, but I can’t do that if I don’t get more people in the door.” Eva sighed as she stroked the end of the vibrator. “I was hoping to entice them in with educational seminars, but...”
Remo paced his kitchen as if plotting an idea. “If you had a regular supply of baked goods while you were ‘dating’ me, that would be the bait that brings new customers in. I know this town, and the people here like to eat. It just might be the thing that works.”
He added a bounce to his step as he continued brainstorming. “I could use the Belli name to try some of my own recipes out on your customers. It could be like a test kitchen. Win-win for both of us.”
“It’s only a win if your recipes smell as good as this one does. If they do, you’ve got yourself a fake girlfriend for the next six months.”
Eva held out her hand to shake, and Remo crossed his kitchen to where she stood.
“Pleasure doing business with you.”
“Especially since my business is pleasure, right?” Eva smirked and got her phone out of her pocket. “Give me your number. Unless you want to keep meeting me by the trash.”
After they exchanged numbers, Eva let out a yawn that signaled it was not long before she was floating in the land of dreams.
“I need to go. It’s been real.”
She showed herself to the back door she used as an entrance, and before she got there, an idea struck her. Maybe it was built on silliness and a need for sleep.
“Hey, Remo. How good are you at making suggestive baked goods?”
CHAPTER TWO
Remo had been one of the best in his class in Austin with offers to work for prestigious companies, but he’d chosen to come back home with ambitions of taking over the direction of Belli’s Bakery. As he completed the opening prep work tasks, he daydreamed about what that might entail.
His father, Enzo, could step back and spend more time with Remo’s mother, Belinda. The two had married young and never had a big vacation, not even for their thirtieth wedding anniversary. Enzo deserved a break, and the bakery deserved a chance to grow and find new clients. Treating Eva like a pariah did them no favors, and if his father did that to her, he was probably driving away other potential paying customers.
As for Nonna, she could have talked to Remo at home since the whole family lived in the same house. She didn’t have to make a separate trek to the bakery so early in the morning. Her impromptu visit worked in his favor, though, since she assumed he and Eva were in a relationship.
It had been surprisingly easy for Remo to tell Eva he was asexual. She didn’t know him to have any preconceived ideas about who he was. Plus, he’d gained more confidence in his sexuality while studying in Austin. There he had a loose circle of queer friends of many different identities and his first taste of acceptance in the queer community.
Now that he was no longer in Texas, the only one who supported him was his older sister Stephanie. He had tried to make the rest of his family understand his asexuality, but most of them thought Remo was either secretly gay or that he hadn’t met the right girl yet. Right now the girl in question was Eva Stephens.
Nothing about Eva had given Remo a salacious vibe, even when she used a certain tool to fix what ailed him. She was also quick with a joke, and he liked her sense of humor. Eva had a playful appearance with a dark blonde, shoulder-length bob with green streaks of color peeking through her locks to frame her symmetrical face. If he had to gain his nonna’s favor, there were worse ways of doing it than dating a smart, quirky woman who made him laugh.
Back in high school, Remo hadn’t known about asexuality. He’d already realized he was different from his friends. During puberty, the boys from the neighborhood suddenly started to be interested in girls instead of playing with him. He liked girls well enough, but he didn’t want to kiss them. Remo didn’t want to kiss any of the boys, either. It took him a long time to find words to describe himself.
As an adult back in his hometown, Remo wanted friends who respected his sexuality. He had few opportunities to meet new people since he was so busy with the bakery and had family members for coworkers. Even in high school, Remo had kept baker’s hours, which had kept him out of a lot of social events. Nowadays, you couldn’t just go up to a stranger and ask, “Do you want to be my friend?”
Then again, maybe you could. That was sort of what he and Eva had done with each other at the dumpster.
How odd life was.
A little while later, Stephanie walked into the bakery to start her shift, and she belted out a Lady Gaga song as she put on her apron. Remo joined her immediately with harmony and simple choreography. The two often broke into song when they were together, particularly hits from the ’80s and ’90s.
“We should go to karaoke,” he said after they finished the song. “We haven’t done that since I’ve been back.”
“I haven’t been to karaoke since before you went to Austin,” she said as she put on the required hairnet.
Stephanie wore her long brown hair in a bun with purple, pink, and blue butterflies. When she wasn’t at the bakery, she could pull off the look of a golden-age Sophia Loren.
“I know. Open mic nights and getting your own music out there.”
Remo smiled softly with pride at her attempts to carve her own dream. Few people who weren’t part of Stephanie’s inner circle would know that she was a monster on the guitar with a killer voice to match. She hid it all behind the persona of a dutiful daughter who was the bread maker in the family’s bakery.
“I have some news,” he said as he leaned back against one of the countertops and drummed his fingertips on the edge. “I have a date for Sunday dinner with Nonna.”
“No!” She shot him a look of disbelief. “Does Nonna think you’re going to give her grandbabies now? Who is it?”
“Eva Stephens, the owner of The Love Shack.”
Stephanie pulled back from him like she smelled something bad. “Really? But why? Dad hates that store.”
“I’m not dating the whole store.” Remo couldn’t help rolling his eyes, something that he’d never do in front of his father. “Nonna found us... in a compromising position.”
She squinted at him and glanced around the kitchen as if to see evidence of mischief. “Doing what?”
Remo sucked his lip against his teeth while he thought of his answer. “You know I have the worst bed in the history of beds. I’m going to burn that thing one day. I started talking to Eva, and she noticed I was tense and sore. She decided to give me a massage with a special piece of equipment.”
With a shrewd look, Stephanie asked, “A vibrator?”
“Yes, exactly. It felt so good I couldn’t help making noises,” he admitted, his cheeks heating with a blush. “Nonna walked in on us, and you know how she is. She was probably disappointed she didn’t catch us naked.”
Stephanie whistled. “Nonna does want her babies, like Dante’s kids aren’t enough or something.”
Their older brother Dante, the first of the Belli siblings, had a son and a daughter with his wife Dafne. Nonna spoiled them rotten but still asked for more children like they were stars in her crown.
“Unlike Dad,” Remo continued, “Nonna seems to really like Eva. I don’t know why.”
“You know Nonna’s going to talk about babies and everything else at the table on Sunday. She’ll try to embarrass you two.”
Remo let a big grin slowly unfold on his face. “That’s what makes Eva the perfect date. How much could you embarrass someone who owns an adult store called the...”
“Love Shack!” The two siblings shouted it together before breaking into laughter.
“Well, good luck,” Stephanie said once they recovered from their laughing fit. “That woman better have nerves of steel if she’s going to survive dinner with all of us.”
They separated to finish their morning opening duties with music playing through the satellite radio app on Stephanie’s phone. She worked on breads and biscotti while Remo made a cream frosting with almond slivers. It tasted great as long as one didn’t have a nut allergy.
Once the bakery opened, Remo rang up purchases and spent some time chatting with the customers. He’d known a few of the regulars since he was a little boy, and he took pride in the community that his family had built around them.
During a lull between customers, he came out front and looked at the store with fresh eyes. What would it be like for someone new to walk in and see it for the first time? They needed new signage. That was a given.
Remo pulled his phone out of his pocket and let the Internet guide him to the website for DeAnna Boothe, a local comic artist. There was something about her art style that he immediately loved the first time he saw it two years ago. He’d also loved her tattoo sleeve when he saw her at an in-store event.
Impulsively, Remo filled out the contact form on her website. No, it was not at all the normal way to get new signage, but he was ready to shake things up. With that in mind, he pulled a sandwich board and some chalk to write up a contest that would engage the customers. Hopefully, they’d give him a real challenge to create a baking miracle.
After Remo was done, the sign read:
Pick our new cupcake flavors! Put your suggestion in the box with your name and address for a chance to win a half dozen cupcakes in your flavor.
As he was busy admiring his handiwork, a man’s voice boomed behind him. “What’s this I hear about you bringing a girl home on Sunday?”
Remo, in his chef’s pants and baker’s apron, turned around to his older brother Dante, in his tailored suit. He was not a big man, but he had a big mouth and a voice that filled whatever room he was in.
Dante was a successful financial planner who helped people with personal investments. His wife Dafne, a civic-minded socialite, had come from money and helped him make the right connections. They’d had their two children before either of them was twenty-one, and Dante got a vasectomy so Dafne wouldn’t have any unwanted surprises later.
“Knowing you,” Dante said when he and Remo were eye to eye, “I thought it would have been a dude.”
“He’s not gay,” Stephanie shouted from the back.
“Why do you keep thinking about me with another man? Is there something you need to tell me, Dante?”
His older brother recoiled. “That’s gross. I don’t want to think of you with dudes.”
“And yet, of the two of us,” Remo replied pointing at his brother, “you’re the one who brought it up. So, how do you already know I have a date for Sunday dinner?”
“Nonna called Dafne to make sure we’d be there, and Dafne told me when she reminded me to pick up her order.”
The family grapevine was working in fine form this morning. No doubt Enzo and Remo’s nineteen-year-old younger brother Fabian would both know by the time they came for their shift. His younger sister Stella might not give him a hard time about having a date, but she was often too busy being a beauty content creator.
“Dafne ordered one of your cream cakes for her women’s social tonight,” Dante reminded him when Remo didn’t react right away.
“Right,” Remo said, leaving the sandwich board and chalk at the front of the store to the racks near the register that had the special orders.
He’d improved the cream cake recipe since he’d been back, and Dafne’s cohorts had been giving him word-of-mouth praise. Remo’s father, on the other hand, refused to compliment his baking. Enzo believed that the family recipes weren’t broken, so Remo shouldn’t try to fix them.
Remo rang up the order, and Dante leaned against the counter conspiratorially.
“What kind of girl is she?”
“Funny and educated,” Remo said easily. He didn’t know Eva well enough yet to say anything else.
“Does she give you... urges?” The look on Dante’s face was positively smarmy.
Passing the cake over, Remo said with extra sweetness in his tone, “Like the urge I have to slap you upside the head because you still don’t understand how asexuality works?”
Dante straightened up and stepped back from Remo’s potential reach. Then, perhaps realizing there were other places he’d rather be, Dante left.
The exchange with his brother left Remo with a small financial quandary. Even family had to pay for their baked goods, though they did get a small discount. That was going to make fitting in “free” baked goods for Eva more challenging. Maybe the accountant would tell him he could get a tax credit for it as it involved helping another business. Probably not, though. Remo would have to consider his help the literal cost of his pursuit to become the bakery manager.
Later in the morning but before it had officially become lunchtime, Enzo and Fabian made their appearance. Like Remo, both men had dark hair and brown eyes. Enzo’s hair was graying, and he was growing paunchy around the middle. Fabian, on the other hand, had the good looks of youth and knew it. The two men would take care of the store the rest of the day.
“Dad, I’ve got to talk to you about the closers,” Remo started without preamble. “They didn’t take out the trash last night like they were supposed to. It stank up our kitchen, and I had to do it this morning when I got here.”
He might not have talked to Eva at the dumpster if he hadn’t had to clean up the mess, but the closers still had to do their jobs right.
“I’ll take care of it,” Enzo said as he evaluated his son from head to toe. “Your nonna has told me that you’re bringing a date to Sunday dinner. You better not screw this up.”
“Since when do you date?” Fabian asked. “Aren’t you a eunuch?”
Remo sighed at his brother’s words. The teasing wasn’t funny, but sometimes he had to pick his battles. If he raged against every slight and injustice, he’d be a busy man without any time to be a successful baker.
As if divining the latter thought, Enzo gestured at the decorated sandwich board. “What is this?”
“I want to try new recipes so we can reach new clients.”
“No. I forbid it,” he said, wiping the air in front of him as if the topic were completely done. “The business is just right as it is. If we get too big, it won’t have the Belli personal touch.”
The little speech was a litany Enzo had been saying for a long time. Behind their father’s shoulder, Fabian smirked at Remo.
“Listen to Dad. Belli personal touch,” Fabian said. “So, who’s your date?”
“One of you at a time,” Remo muttered. “Dad, I’m trying out new things at no risk to Belli’s. I’ll take the money out of my check. At least until the customers start demanding the flavors.”
“Do you seriously think Nonna is going to give you this bakery?” he asked, his hand on his hip and his voice raised loud enough that it was no surprise who Dante Belli got his speaking voice from.
“Yes, I do think that, Dad! No one else wants it, and I’ve got the training. So why do I have to pretend I don’t deserve it? The only other person who likes working here is Stephanie, and she’s got her own dreams.”
