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Unsurprisingly, he’s very easy to spot.
Sitting smack dab in the middle of the cafe is a man wearing an almost two-foot-tall toque, staring at his phone.
That has to be him.
He must have caught my movement from the corner of his eye because he looks up as soon as I start toward his table.
I can see a bit of sandy brown hair peeking out from under his ridiculous toque. He’s got a strong jaw, a proud nose, and there are laugh lines around the corners of his mouth and eyes.
Even with the ridiculous mustache he scrawled on his face, it’s clear that he’s handsome to the point of distraction.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Is looking like a model one of the required qualifications for being allowed to teach at this academy?
When he stands and extends his hand for me to shake, I can see he’s around my height but he’s got at least thirty pounds of pure muscle on me.
“Avery Ross, I assume?” he asks with a mischievous smile.
“What gave it away?” I ask, matching his grin.
“Well, every other woman who came in has avoided me like I’m mad and dangerous. That and you’ve got flour on your cheek. Dead giveaway for a baker.”
I laugh and brush off my cheeks.
“This might work better,” he says, handing me a wet wipe from the little caddy on the table.
“Thank you.”
I give my entire face a wipe-down just in case.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. How about we order before getting down to business?”
“That sounds perfect.”
In a few moments, we’re settled back at the table with our order markers.
“So, are you planning on wearing that the entire time?” I ask, gesturing vaguely at his face.
He quirks a brow. “Would you like me to?”
If he keeps using that tone, I’m going to want him to do a hell of a lot more than wear a silly hat.
What part of “be a model student” and “no more fantasies” do you not understand?
I take a breath and try to compose myself.
“If it brings you joy, Mr. Brooks, then by all means, go ahead. I’d hate to stifle your, uh, self-expression.”
“How very open-minded of you.” He laughs. “And anyone who can bake like you do can call me Wesley.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. I know I’m blushing, but only because of the compliment he just gave me. I am not in any way imagining saying his name in an entirely different context.
Nope.
Not doing that at all.
“You haven’t even tried anything I’ve made yet. You might think it’s garbage.”
“I highly doubt that, but I appreciate the humility. That’s rare in a chef.”
