Recipe for Romance

     Imani Taylor, the owner of the Pink Cupcake Bakery, held an emergency meeting with her staff.

         “Thank you, everyone, for staying after work. I know you all concerned about the future of your job at the shop. True, we’re going through some financial difficulties, but I have a plan. Next week the Holiday Festival begins. As most of you know, it’s the biggest Winter festival in New England. People travel from all over the region to attend. They look forward to the rides, the games, and the food vendors. But the festival’s highlight is the Bake-Off. The Pink Cupcake Bakery earned a spot as one of the last three contestants.”

         The staff members cheered, high-fived, and shook hands.

         Don’t get too excited—there no prize money but a lot of perks. But they are more valuable than a cash prize.”

 The staff settled down and listened as Imani continued.

         One of the staff members blurted out, "What’s more valuable than money”

         Everyone laughed.

“Be quiet, Charlie. Let Ms. Imani explain.

“Thank you, Tonya. The winner of the Bake-Off gets free advertisement in the local and regional papers. You get an exclusive catering contract for all government-sponsored events. There are T.V. appearances. In fact, previous winners have written cookbooks, blogs, and lounged cooking school. If we win, the Pink Cupcake can stay open.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of stuff, and we need our jobs. You gotta win, Ms. Imani, you just gotta”

         Almost as an afterthought, Sheila adds.” Ms. Imani, I have a friend who works in the bakery across town. She told me the festival committee picked their bakery, too”

“What? The Cake Master Bakery shop is also competing? We’ll see about that”

         Across town in the Cake Master bakery, Andre Patterson talked with his best friend, Jacob.

“I heardyou’re entering the Festival Bake-Off. There’s a lot of stiff competition to beat”

“Yeah, but I think I can hold my own. After all, I am the Cake Master”

         They both laughed.

         “Seriously, though. I heard Imani Taylor’s Pink Cupcake bakery is a contestant. Have you tasted her baked goods? Andre, they are delicious and gluten-free.”

         “Remember. my coconut layered cake won its share of awards. I’ll put that cake up against anything the Pink Cupcake makes.”  

         A knock on the bakery door interrupted the men’s conversation. Imani and her sister, Nia, entered the shop.

Andre opened the door. “I’m sorry, ladies, but the shop is closed. If you-”

Imani brushed by him. “Hello, My name is Imani Taylor. I own the Pink Cupcake bakery. I’d like to speak to the owner, please.”

Nia mouthed, “Sorry,” as she slipped into the store.

Hearing voices, Jacob joined Andre.

“I would like to speak to you about your entry into the Winter Holiday Festival Bake-Off, Sir.”

“You should speak with the owner, young lady.”

Imani scoffed, “That’s why I’m speaking with you. Sir.”

Jacob rolled his eyes. “But I’m not the owner. The black gentlemen over there, the guy who let you in, is the owner.

Imani glanced over Jacob’s shoulder. “Oh. So you’re not Andre Patterson?”

Jacob looked surprised.

Mockingly, Imani added, “If you didn’t want people to know your name, then why hangup your Culinary Institute of America’s Baking and Pastry Arts degree on the wall, Mr. Patterson?”

“Why don’t we ask Mr. Patterson?” Jacob said as he pointed to the door.

Imani and Nia turn and look at the man who let them in. Imani froze momentarily at the sight of this man.

So, this was Andre Patterson. He stood there, resting his hand on the doorknob. Andre’s had muscular arms wedged into a black tee-shirt. Full luscious lips parted into a coy smile displaying even white teeth. His eyes were warm, brown, and inviting. smooth, dark skin, like ebony, she thought. Andre was tall, handsome, and decidedly handsome.

Nia looked at her sister. “Imani. Imani.”

Imani did a double-take, then spoke. “Mr. Patterson. I=”

“Andre, please.”

“Okay, then. Andre, we own bakeries in a small town that can only support one of us. . I had to work my way up. I didn’t come from wealthy parents.” She chided as she glanced at the degree. ‘I need to win the Bake-Off. If I don’t, I’m out of business.”

Andre’s smile broadens as he walked towards her. She hoped he couldn’t hear her heart beating.

“So let me get this straight. You want me to drop out of the competition, allowing you to win? Would you be happy with a win by giving up?”

“You’d be saving jobs and my bakery. You can always get the money from your family.”

“Sorry, I don’t think I can accept your offer.”

Andre reached out his hand as he opened the door. “May the best bakery win, Ms. Taylor.”

Andre’s fingers were warm and smooth as he ushered the Taylor sisters out.

The Taylor sister drove the first few minutes in silence until Nia asked.

“Isn’t Mr. Patterson, a good-looking man, Imani?”

“I don’t know what you mean?”

‘Oh, come on, Sis. You’d have to be blind not to find him attractive.”

“Listen, Nia, I do not find him attractive!”

Nia slunk down in her seat and stared out the window.

The next day all the Bake-Off contestants met at the Festival headquarters.

Imani saw Andre, but she didn’t speak to him. Introducing each contestant included a brief biography. Imani paid special attention when they called Andre Patterson’s name. The festival organizers handed out booklets with the Bake-Off’s rules and regulations and a short biography of the contestants. Imani read Andre’s.

“Mr. Andre Patterson is the owner of the Cake Master bakery in the town of Elm Tree, New York. Born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. Mr. Patterson is the oldest of ten children. Raised by a single mother in a public housing project, Mr. Patterson work as a bag boy in the local supermarket, short-order cook in a restaurant. Mr. Patterson graduated with honors from the Culinary Institute with a degree in Baking and Pastry Arts.”

Imani peeked at Andre. How wrong she was about him. He wasn’t a privileged kid. He was a man who earned success like she did through hard work.

The meeting ended two hours later. Imani stayed longer, chatting with fellow bakers and festival staff.          Imani walked to her car,, followed by Andre.

         “Should I wait to apologize to him?” Imani thought to herself.          

         Before she could decide, he caught up to her.

         “Hello. Ms. Taylor.”

         Imani struggled not to get excited. Andre’s cologne was masculine and breathtaking. Imani smiled at him. Nia was right; he was appealing.

         “How did you find the initial meeting, Ms. Taylor?

         “Informative,”

         “Yes, I thought so also. How; s your sister?”

“She’s fine. And your friend. How’s he doing?”

“Jacob? He’s well. In fact, I’m meeting him tonight.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Well, here’s my car. It was nice talking with you.”

“Same here. Hope to see you in town.”

Imani walked to her car. Curious, she watched to see which car belonged to Andres.

         “Tesla1I might have known,” she murmured.

         Imani got behind the wheel, inserted the ignition, and got q whirling sound. She tried a few times, but her car wouldn’t start. Imani rested her head and the steering when a tap on the driver’s side window startled her. It was Andre.

         He leaned down, and she caught a whiff of his cologne.

         “Having car trouble?” He asked as if he knew the mechanics of a car.

         “No, not really. Just that my car won’t start.”

         “Try it again,” he said, looking at the hood.

         Imani turned the ignition key. The same results, a whirling sound.

         “Pop the hood.”

         Imani fumbled around for the hood release under the dashboard. Once she found it, it was too stiff for her. She couldn’t pull the lever.

         “Do you mind if I try?”

         “Why no. must let me-”

         Before she could finish her sentence, he reached into the car and yanked on the lever. The hood popped open.

         “There it is.” He said with a sense of pride.

         As he walked to the front of her car, lifted the hood, and scanned the engine.

Imani sat dumbfounded. Apparently, Andre was unaware that when he reached for the lever, the back of his hand rubbed against her leg. He came back to the window.

         “Sorry, I think your starter has burned out. You’re going to need a tow.

Imani smiled at him. “Thank you for trying.”

“I’ll wait here until you get someone,” he offered while wiping the oil off his hand with his handkerchief.

Imani called AAA on her car phone. The earliest a tow could reach her was three hours. By then, she’d be sitting in a dark and deserted parking lot.

“Arrange for a tow for your car to Joe’s garage in town. I’ll drive you home, Ms. Taylor.”

Imani swallowed deeply and looked around.

“There’s no other choice, Ms. Taylor. Don’t you trust me?”

Imani looked up to his perfect smile. Still excited from the leg rub, she thought to herself, “I don’t know if I trust myself.”

They walked over to Andre’s car. He opened the passenger side door and eased her into the seat. Andre slid into the driver, turned the ignition key, and they were on their way.

“What type of music do you want to hear, Ms. Taylor?”

“Smooth Jazz.”

“Smooth Jazz, it is.”

Andre reached out towards Imani’s knee. She grabbed his hand.

“Behave yourself, Mr. Patterson,”

“Okay, can you reach over there,” he pointed, “and turn on the radio?”

Embarrassed, Imani realized he wasn’t trying to touch her knee, He was reaching for the radio. Imani smiled, then turned her head to look out of the window.

After Ian hour of small talk, Andre dropped off Imani at the house she shared with Nia.  Nia was waiting in the living room.

“Was that, Andre?”

“Yes, it was.”

         “Details. Details.”

“Let me get a cup of hot chocolate, and I’ll tell you everything. Including the leg rub.”

Imani and Andre saw more of each other as the weeks went by. They didn’t realize it, but they shopped at the same stores. They were always on the phone.

Exchanging recipes and cooking strategies.

         “I think your falling for this guy, Imani.”

         ‘No. We’re just friends.”

On the day of the Bake-Off, Imani presented her peach cobbler. Andre presented his Coconut layered cake to the panel of judges.  Both Imani and Andre were nervous. Finally, the organizers blew the foghorn. Everyone gathered around to hear the winner.

“The winner of this year’s Bake-Off is, Imani Taylor’s Peach Cobbler.”

Imani, Nia, and her staff celebrated. Andre hugged Imani and congratulated her. The competition was tough. But Imani and Andre knew it was the beginning of their romance.