The birthday cake

Sparks fly when Lauren meets a handsome firefighter who’s new in town . . .

Lauren straightened her apron and checked her reflection in the glass bakery case. A blond man, his dark blue eyes almost a match for his firefighter uniform, strode through the door. Over the past month, she’d looked forward to his morning visits for a breakfast sandwich or a pastry. He always thanked her, sometimes smiled and often bought a dozen items for takeout. She’d been watching him walk across the street to the fire station for weeks. Today, though, was different. It was nearly four in the afternoon. He met her eyes with a quick glance and then pointed at a birthday cake in the case. “I’ll take that.” he said. Lauren slid the cake from its shelf and set it on the counter.

He was handsome, broadshouldered, appealing

“What name should I put on it?” she asked. The cake said Happy Birthday with a blank space for personalization. “Thanks,” he said with an apologetic smile, “but you don’t have to put a name on it. I know it’s close to closing time for you, and you’ve had a long day. You’re here when I get to work every day.” “That’s life in a bakery. But I’m not too tired to put a name on a birthday cake. I think it’s the law in Nashville that cakes aren’t allowed to be anonymous.” She grinned and picked up a pastry bag filled with icing. She waited. He was handsome, broad-shouldered, appealing. She’d seen a picture of him in the newspaper once as he held a ladder on one shoulder in front of a burning house. She’d been disappointed that the caption didn’t include his name, and she hadn’t found a good reason to introduce herself even though they’d exchanged a pleasant good morning a dozen times. “Name,” she prompted. “Elliott,” he said. “Can you spell it, please?” She’d learned the hard way to always ask that question. “Two l’s, two t’s.” Lauren wrote the name in script and added an exclamation point for good measure. “I hope Elliott has a very happy birthday,” she said. The firefighter murmured a thank you. A few minutes later, Lauren watched through the front door as he got in a red pickup and drove away. Who was Elliott? A friend? Brother? Son? For all she knew, Elliott could be a woman’s name. A handsome man with a hero’s job was probably not single. Lauren waited for him the next morning, but he didn’t come. No red pickup, no blond firefighter. She thought of him every time she wrote a greeting on a cake. Two mornings later, the firefighter pulled in across the street right before seven. He went in the station for a moment before jogging across to the bakery. He approached the counter, and Lauren felt the same tug she’d felt since he’d first started visiting her bakery. He pointed to a row of apple fritters and opened his mouth to speak, but the door of the bakery burst open and another firefighter leaned in. “Elliott,” he yelled. “Chief said to get two dozen today.” The blond firefighter raised his hand to indicate he’d heard his colleague, and then he turned to Lauren. A blush crept up his neck and face and Lauren smiled. “Two questions,” she said. “Is your name spelled with two l’s and two t’s?” He nodded and grinned. “Next question,” Lauren said. “Did you eat that birthday cake all by yourself?” She hoped the answer would be no. She was taking a huge risk. For all she knew, he had a beautiful child named after him. He slowly shook his head, and her heart sank. “I let my dog sit on the couch next to me since it was a special occasion,” he said, a smile lighting his face. He held out his hand. “I’m Elliott Long. Thank you for writing my name on my birthday cake. It made it a little less lonely.” “Lauren Sparks,” she said, taking his hand. “As you probably guessed, I’m new in town,” he said. “But I’ve found a few nice places to eat. If I come back at the end of my shift later today, would you have dinner with me?” Lauren smiled. “I’d love to, Elliott.”