6
The Hunk
Edward would love to say that he didn't sit on his couch, cradling his phone, waiting for it to ring.
He'd love to say that, but he can't.
It feels like he's been sitting for hours, willing it to go off, and almost drops it when it finally does.
These cookies are amazing. Thank you very much.
He doesn't care that he's coming off too eager; he immediately replies.
I'm glad you like them. I bake for a living, but I made these cookies especially for you to thank you for those amazing muffins. How did you know that I love peanut butter?
Lucky guess. I figured if I wanted more cookies, I'd have to respond to your plate demand. You're a baker? That is awesome. I love being in the kitchen.
You should see the bakery my sister and I just opened. The kitchen is a baker's dream. I can honestly say that I love my job.
That's great. Most people find it hard to find work that balances out with their passion.
Edward smiles because he is lucky.
It doesn't hurt that he and his sister own The Bakery, but still.
What are you passionate about, Bella?
His phone is dead silent for a while.
Maybe she fell asleep.
Or maybe he said something that scared her off.
Edward reads through their texts but can't find anything that would garner being ignored.
But Rosalie warned him to tread lightly. Maybe Bella misconstrued something.
Was his last question really that bad?
The great thing about Rosalie is that she'll definitely help him figure out what he did wrong.
She's most likely going to try to beat some sense into him.
Edward puts his phone away and gets to work, cleaning up the massive cookie mess that has taken over his kitchen.
He's elbow deep in the dishwater when his pocket starts vibrating, and Edward can't dry his hands off fast enough.
Sorry, I was trying to find an answer to your question. When I was in high school, I wanted to be a photographer. Go out on location and make permanent memories. But my plans fell through, and now I don't have a passion.
Edward's fingers fly over the phone screen.
No passion? I refuse to believe that. Whatever happened to photography?
It's a very long story. Goodnight, Edward.
Before Edward can reply his phone goes off again.
Just so you know. It took a lot for me to text you. A LOT.
Well, I'm glad you did. Goodnight, Bella.
Edward turns his radio on and finds himself dancing around and singing as he cleans his kitchen. His smile doesn't fall as he shaves the scruff off his chin, showers, and falls into bed.
The next day at work, Edward can't help but snap pictures of all the equipment before he turns everything on to preheat for the day ahead.
He wants to send them to Bella, but it's still very early in the morning, and she probably wouldn't appreciate being woken up just because he wants to show off his kitchen.
Instead, he gets everything together and goes over the day's menu, including the special of the day.
Rosalie shows up with a big smile on her face.
"How are things with your mystery girl?" sShe asks, jumping up on the counter next to where Edward is kneading the dough for a batch of blueberry scones.
"Things are going. We're on a texting basis." He grins.
"Ooh. That's progress. Have you decided on the special of the day? Will you write it on the board? You're better at artsy shit."
Edward nods and follows her through the double doors that lead to the storefront.
Rosalie hands him a bucket of chalk and tells Edward to go to town.
He works quickly, knowing the timer on his scones will go off soon.
When he's finished, he pulls out his phone and snaps a picture of his masterpiece.
Edward returns to the kitchen and starts filling trays with pastries and other delicacies he's prepared.
He's especially careful with plating the special of the day, taking pictures before handing them off to Rosalie.
"Really, Edward?" She nods toward the storefront.
He smiles and pushes her out the door. She is his sister, so he might push her a little too roughly, causing her to stumble and flip him the bird.
His day passes by quickly. He's busy for a Wednesday, selling out of a lot of things and having to restock the display case numerous times.
The special is a big hit, and he has had to make three large batches by the time Rosalie locks the front door.
"Damn. I think this girl is good for you," she says. "You keep baking like that, and we'll be able to buy that extra mixer you've been whining about."
"I do not whine," Edward grumbles, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
