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Mom had told her about Vermillion once or twice before, Jackie remembered. She referred to it always as ‘that French place’, which hadn’t really lit a fire under Jackie’s a** to see it, even though the cookies and cream puffs Mom and Dad brought home always sent her into raptures. Mom always bought the good stuff. Dad always bought something he loved but Jackie thought was vile, some bourbon-laced dark-chocolate cake thing that Mom and Dad practically fainted over every time they ate.

When she first walked into the store, Jackie was overwhelmed. The Christmas baked goods were in full force, the scent of spices and light cream in the air, the bakery showcases packed to their proverbial rafters with goods. The whole place was decorated like a circus, too, which sent Noah into a giggling screaming mess, putting his hands together and crouching onto the floor, then flailing about excitedly at anything that seemed within his reach.

“Whoa there, whoooaaaa,” Jackie grabbed onto Noah’s hand. “Calm down, goober.”

“CANDY,” Noah gasped, holding his hands out at one display. “IT’S COOKIES! JACKIE IT’S COOKIES.”

“You don’t say,” said Jackie, walking up to the front of the displays and looking at its innards. Mmm… an éclair… or maybe a gingerbread man? What should she get?

“What do you want, Noah?” She asked the boy, who was doing his best to wriggle from her grasp.

“MARSHMALLOW COOKIE,” he cried, pointing at a red velvet whoopee pie at the top of the display.

“Are you SURE?” Jackie said. “Look really good before you decide, okay?”

“MARSHMALLOW COOKIE.”

Jackie sighed and shook her head and looked up. Who did she order from, anyway?

Behind the counter, helping another guest, she saw – well – she saw a woman she loathed instantly. A petite little thing with an a** she had no business having and her hair done up WAY too elaborately to work in a bakery.

Not her, Jackie thought. She didn’t want to be served by her.

Looking the other way, she saw a man in the back, and her mood flipflopped again. He was tall and, ohh, tall, and built like the guys she saw on Abercrombie and Fitch bags, and he had a face that made her wish she was ten pounds lighter and four inches taller and oh my god she had a cluster of zits on her jaw she didn’t put makeup on.

“Jackie Jackie jackie Jackie MARSHMALLOW COOKIE,” Noah sang in her ear, kicking his feet and demanding to be let down. Jackie knelt down and let him step back on the floor, mumbling quickly for him to give her his hand.

Why hadn’t she dressed better? Jackie stole another look toward the back. The tall ginger was taking out cookies. His forearms looked like… like… like something she’d like to lick honey off of. Holy s**t. Jackie looked around surreptitiously. Was anyone watching her staring? She had to look at his jawline again. And the black apron tied around his hips that stretched down his long legs.

“Jackiieieeeeeee,” Noah tugged on her arm, impatient.

“Can I help you?”

Jackie was cut out of her reverie instantly by the sound of a deep, thickly accented voice. She started, flushing for being caught staring, and turned toward the owner of the voice.

Pink!

“Oh my gosh,” Jackie blurted.

She had never seen anyone – anything – that looked like this before.

Jackie was hungry.

She sat in her room, playing with her phone, swiveling on her desk chair in her pajama pants. It was only 4:30 and she didn’t have anything to do?

Lame. Suuuuuper lame.

The internet was boring her. Mom and Noah went to the toddler gym (still a mystery to her) and Dad hadn’t come home yet from work. She could do homework, but who wanted to do homework at 4:30 on a Thursday? Homework could be done, like, five hours from now.

And yet, there she was, in pj pants freshly home from school, with nothing she wanted in the fridge and nothing else to do.

With a sigh, she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked frumpy. Her pj pants had cupcakes on them (mmm, cupcakes), and they made her hips look a mile wide. She turned slightly, looking at her a**.

That girl at the bakery suddenly popped into her head. She’d had the roundest, perkiest buns Jackie’d ever seen. She coveted those buns. It was utterly unfair that a girl who worked at a bakery could possibly have a butt like that. It was one of those butts that Andrew, the guy in front of her in trig class, was constantly describing as the type that ‘just wouldn’t quit.’

Her butt was a definite quitter.

Jackie pulled her pajama pants off.

Those cupcakes did sound good though. Or that éclair. Ugh, that éclair she’d gotten from that bakery was beyond delicious. But she couldn’t go back, not after she’d gasped like that at their… man-deer-guy… worker…

Cesc.

He’d had a nice smile, hadn’t he? He was so nice to Noah. And he didn’t say anything when she’d recoiled from him like he was some kind of monster.

She put both of her hands to her face. So embarrassing.

She could always go back, she thought. It wouldn’t be a bad idea. Show that she wasn’t some close-minded jerkoff, and eat an éclair. And maybe that absolute Adonis of a man would be there again.

Maybe he’d be shirtless.

Hey, girl, he’d say. He probably had the best voice. Maybe it would be like the deer-man’s voice, so rich and warm and accented….

And maybe he’d spill some chocolate sauce on his thick forearms, those tightly-corded muscles. Maybe he’d lick it off himself, too.

Jackie shuddered, slapping her cheeks lightly. What the hell was she thinking?

Okay. She could go, but she wasn’t going to look plain and gross again. Not this time. No toddler, and no ugly grey hoodie, either.

She dug into her closet for the leggings she’d bought the other day, the ones she’d been saving for next weekend’s group-date to the movie theatre. She pulled them on and then a pair of shorts, the ones she thought made her a** look great and her waist look higher. And her favorite sweater, with the thumb-holes.

Jackie fluffed up her hair and coated her lashes with a second layer of mascara. A little gloss, a puff of blush, and she was good to go.

“Okay,” she told herself. She grabbed her phone and her backpack and went out the door.

“Somebody’s dressed to impress,” Angela said, nudging Jackie after school a couple weeks later. Jackie flushed scarlet, although she knew somebody would notice – she’d spent an extra half-hour fishtail braiding her hair and putting on makeup this morning, as well as picking out a sweater dress that she could be warm in AND look festive in. “Are you going on a date tonight?”

“No,” Jackie said, nudging her back. “I just wanted to look pretty.”

“Okay.” Angela nodded. “Is it Jeff?”

“It’s not a date.”

“Mark?”

“Geezus, shut up. I’m just going to a bakery by my house.”

Angela’s eyebrows went up. Jackie leaned in, dropping her voice.

“Angela, there is the hottest guy I’ve ever seen at this bakery,” she said. “He’s freaking… holy crap, I have never used the word dreamy before and I’m about to.”

Angela started to laugh. “Are you serious?”

“I want to lick his face,” Jackie said, deadly serious.

Angela laughed harder, her shoulders shaking. “Take a picture,” she said. “You’ve got to take a picture and send it to me.”

* * *

When Jackie arrived at the bakery, it was nearly four. The Christmas decorations were gone, but the bakery seemed just as festive as always. Behind the counter, though, were both Cesc and the beautiful woman, absorbed in conversation.

Jackie lingered by the door a moment, circling to a nearby table instead of heading straight for the display cases. She dropped her backpack (none of that this time) and quickly took off her coat, showing off her carefully selected outfit. She took out her phone, so that it might be at the ready in case the Aussie ginger showed himself again.

She stole a look at Cesc and his female companion.

They spoke together fondly and familiarly, standing closer together than strangers would, and they touched each other with ease as they spoke. The woman smiled a very bright smile, and she spoke extremely rapidly and often. Cesc kept his eyes on her exclusively, his expression warm. As she approached, Jackie realized that they were not speaking English. For a moment, she didn’t recognize the language. It might have been their own, for all she knew.

She felt a flurry of something in her ribcage.

As she approached the glass display, Cesc turned toward her and beamed.

“You’re back!” he said, lifting a hand to wave. “How nice to see you.”

“Ah, but Rhedefre, is this a friend?” The woman turned toward Jackie. Her smile did not diminish in the slightest. She, too, had an accent – French. Of course. It was an international house of hot accents. “Hello, bonjour, welcome!”

“She is my taste-tester,” said Cesc with a smile.

“A good friend, if you can get it!” said the Frenchwoman. “I am Vivi, hello! What is your name?”

“Jackie,” said Jackie. Her flat, normal, overwhelmingly normal accent seemed awful in her ears. And the woman across from her had a boundless energy, it seemed.

“Enchante, Jackie,” Vivi said, curtsying behind the counter. Jackie was bewildered by the motion, as to whether she was meant to do the same or not. She dropped her eyes and smiled awkwardly and nodded. This was terrible. She’d wanted the tall ginger, not the petite model.

“What will it be today?” asked Cesc, leaning on his elbows on the counter. “Are we daring to try something new, or no?”

Behind him, Vivi bustled, looking rather as though she wanted to say something but holding it in. Jackie tugged at the hem of her sweater dress. When she looked up again, Vivi had pranced away, turning her attention to some other recently-arrived patron. Relief swept over Jackie.

She looked up and saw Cesc watching her, his eyes on her face, warm and easy and unconcerned.

He had very nice eyes. Warm, like they were lit.

Jackie could feel her cheeks growing hot.

“What – what was the question?” she managed.

“What would you like to try today?” Cesc repeated. “Are we feeling adventurous or safe?”

“I thought adventurous,” said Jackie, her voice dropping slightly. “But it’s feeling more like safe.”

Cesc righted himself. “Something in between, then? A hop of faith instead of a leap?”

“Maybe something like that would be better, yeah.”

“Chocolate?” Cesc floated closer to the display case. “We have macarons today that are pretty nice, if you like almonds.”

Jackie stuck her tongue out. Cesc laughed, holding up his hands.

“No almonds, message received.” He looked at the display case, wondering. “No nuts at all?”

“Hazelnuts are okay.” Jackie waved a hand. Cesc mimicked the motion, nodding.

“I see. What about caramel? Do we like caramel?” Cesc turned back toward the display case, ducking his head as he went to reach for something.

“Oooh, yes,” said Jackie, balling her hands into fists. “Caramel is a definite yes.”

“Then I have something for you,” said Cesc, his head still ducked as he worked on fishing out a tissue, then a bag, and then selecting her treat from the case. But Jackie was not watching, because as he ducked he gave her a view into the back of the house – and in the back of the house, wiping down a steel baking counter, was HIM.

Yes! Ginger-ginger, the tastiest gingerbread man. Jackie rolled onto her tiptoes and took out her phone, trying to get a good picture for Angela. He wasn’t quite facing the camera, leaning forward as he was, and she couldn’t get a good shot of his glorious arms or jawline. She put her tongue between her teeth and leaned forward further, trying to snap a better shot.

Click, click. She managed two, but neither was perfect. Neither was quite right. She could get a better one, if only –

“Here we go, a salted caramel chocolate-chip cookie.” A pink head of hair filled her viewfinder.

Jackie gasped, startled at being caught, and dropped her camera with a clatter onto the counter. She squeezed her eyes shut, her hands up, and then opened them one at a time.

The phone landed right side up.

The phone landed right side up, with the picture of the Aussie on its screen.

Cesc was paused, looking down at it, blinking slowly.

Jackie never before wanted the floor to open up and swallow her as she wanted it to now.

“That’s…” she gasped, her throat dry.

Ohgod, he was looking … he was…

A flame of scarlet shot over her cheeks and ears and deep into her neck.

“A salted caramel chocolate chip cookie,” Cesc said again, looking back up at her. He held out the bag with a faint smile. “Does that sound like something good?”

A lump was forming in Jackie’s throat. She’d never been this embarrassed, not once in her life. She grasped for her phone clumsily, trying to breathe, trying not to cry from humiliation.

“Wait,” Cesc said, putting his hand over hers. “Wait a moment.”

Jackie gathered her phone into her hands, nodding.

Cesc opened the bag and offered its mouth to her. He smiled. “Try the cookie.”

Jackie shook her head.

Cesc grinned. “Really. It is good. Try it.”

Jackie reached in, pinched off a bite of cookie, and put it in her mouth. She could hardly taste it, but what she could was sweet, and warm, and just faintly salted. It was a comfortingly delicious flavor.

“Is it good?” Cesc prompted gently.

“It’s really good,” Jackie replied. Her face was returning to its normal color.

“The best cookie you’ve ever had?” Cesc said, grinning.

Jackie couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe, yeah.”

“Ahh, so I thought.” Cesc nodded, and then leaned back slightly to look toward the back of the house. “Shepard! Shep!”

Jackie felt her heart speed up as the Australian looked up in the back, stopping his cleaning.

“Yeh?”

“There’s a customer out here who wants to see who is responsible for the best cookie she’s ever eaten.”

The Australian broke into a grin, the kind of grin that turned Jackie’s legs into Jell-O. He threw his towel over his shoulder and walked into the bakery proper, putting his hand out to Jackie.

“Well, that’d be me, then,” he said, taking her hand and shaking it. “That’s right nice of you to say.”

“How about a picture?” said Cesc, and although Jackie’s face tried its hardest to become a tomato again, she nodded. Shepard smiled and shook his head, throwing his arm around Cesc’s shoulders.

“What?” Shepard laughed, turning to Jackie and shrugging. “Arright, if you want.”

Jackie smiled slightly and lifted her phone. Shepard didn’t let go of Cesc, dragging his friend into the frame.

“Not alone, though,” he said.

“So modest,” hummed Cesc. He turned toward Jackie’s camera and smiled brightly.

“Say ‘cheese’,” she said.

* * *
“He is really, really, really unforgivably hot,” Angela said, leaning over Jackie’s phone. “Oh my cheezits crackers, they are both really hot. Is that one wearing a headband, though?” She tapped the photo of Cesc.

“No, he’s … like a deer-guy?” Jackie shrugged.

“A deer guy?” Angela’s eyebrows went up. She took the phone out of Jackie’s hands.

“Yeah, like he’s got antlers and deer ears. It’s no big deal. I think it’s cute,” Jackie said.

“That’s pretty weird,” said Angela. “I mean, he’s good looking, but… like, so those are his ears?”

Jackie felt her shoulders tense up. She didn’t want to mention that Cesc also had wings, and a ribbon instead of a lower body. “He’s really, really nice.”

Angela squinted at the picture. “So he doesn’t have, like, real ears? Those are what he hears with?”

Jackie took her phone from Angela. She could feel her mood start to sour. “Yes.”

“Weiiiiiiird. You should get him to show you, like, his jaw line. Does he just not have anything up there? Just, like, a jaw that goes all the way up? You know what I’m saying?”

Jackie sighed audibly. “Quit it.”

“Quit what?”

“I’m TRYING to show you some hot guys and you’re fixating something really stupid,” Jackie said. “He’s the nicest dude, okay?”

Angela sat up, looking away. “Okay.”

Jackie rolled her eyes. “Anyway, it cost me a lifetime of humiliation to get this, so you could at least look.”

Angela moved slightly back over to Jackie, peering at the phone again. “He’s got a great smile. It’s so, so cute.”

Jackie looked back down at the photo. “Yeah, he really does, doesn’t he?”

Angela nodded, waggling her eyebrows. “Mm, yeah he does. The ginger stubble doesn’t hurt, either.”

Jackie paused, marveling at herself. She’d meant Cesc.