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Reward Sibanda

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“How can anyone so annoying smell so good? The wind stirs Pedro's hair and balloons his shirt. I guess after years of preparing buttercream, melting chocolate with delicate precision, and kneading sweet rolls with his bare hands, the scents have remained on him like a second skin. He smells like Sugar's early mornings, when they fill their ovens with the first batches of bolo de rolo and coconut buns.”

“He clumsily picks up the trays of corn cake and bolo de rolo, now all mixed together. He shoves a piece of the mixture into his mouth like he's doing it just to avoid talking. But then his eyes light up. "Oh my God!" he says with his mouth full. He grabs another piece of corn cake stacked with bolo de rolo, holding it up to show it to me, like he's just made a great discovery. "What?" I ask. "You gotta try this," he says. I'm so nervous that I don't think I can make myself eat, but I take the first bite--- Salt and sugar mix in my mouth, the two tastes meeting like a kiss. "It's... it's..." I can't find the right words. "Perfect," he finishes for me. He's so close, his eyes locked with mine and that silly smile on his face. WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?!”

“Our cake represents the best our families' bakeries Salt and Sugar have to offer," Pedro says, addressing the audience. "Two layers. There's the savory, nourishing quality of Parmesan corn and the sweetness of a guava-drizzled cake that's a reinterpretation of bolo de rolo. Two flavors that are dominant by themselves, meeting to complement each other." He points at each layer. "Salt and Sugar. Just like our families' bakeries." The judge smiles. "Thank you, kids. And what do you call your cake?" I meet Pedro's eyes. Deciding on the name wasn't hard. But saying it out loud in front of our families could go either way. "Romário and Julieta," we say in unison.”

“His eyes were growing darker. They dipped to her lips. “Make any dirty cupcakes this week?” “Yes. Two orders.” “What flavors?” “No.” “No?” “I don’t want to tell you.” She totally wanted to tell him. She wanted to watch his eyes go darker when she said the dirty words. And she wanted him to keep touching her cheek. And then touch her in other places. “You should stop.” “Probably.”

“Her eyes slid closed, her secret places pulsed in anticipation, and his lips settled onto the skin beneath her ear. That was magic. She held perfectly still. He pressed a kiss to her neck. Then another, lower. A third, even lower. She squirmed. He dropped his hands. “Sorry. I---“ “Don’t stop,” Kimmie whispered.”

“He glanced down at the movie poster art that had been skillfully airbrushed not his custom apron, thanks to Lani's interesting assistant, Dre. He had thought the eclectic collection clever and a fitting contribution to the tone the show was trying to strike, being set in a cupcakery, and featuring its whimsical owner. 'Whimsical she might be,' Baxter thought, 'but when it comes to smoldering sensuality, even Marilyn Monroe in her movie star prime doesn't hold a candle to little Miss Snow White.' He'd been attracted to her drive, her focus, her steady demeanor and steadier hand. She'd been steel wrapped in sunshine, a dependable beacon of light he could rely on and trust in his always loud, rushed, chaotic world. Now he looked at her, with the warm, buttery, bakery sweet scents filling the air, accented with rich, dark, chocolate undertones... and all he could think about was adding the taste of her to the mix.”

“Her father and grandfather were two of the most romantic, caring, generous men she knew. And neither of them had ever had more than a couple thousand bucks in the bank at one time. They'd both lived paycheck to paycheck--her dad still did--but they still provided a safe, happy, loving home and treated their wives like queens. Just queens without jewels or gold or servants. That was what Josie wanted. Just to be loved with someone's whole heart.”