Football Sundae by Daryl Banner

Author:Daryl Banner [Banner, Daryl]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Frozenfyre Publishing
Published: 2017-02-04T05:00:00+00:00

Well, I guess that’s one way to do it.

I hear nothing, know nothing, and feel nothing else but Tanner Strong’s lips against mine. I don’t hear the gasps. I don’t hear the scandalized murmurs. I don’t notice heads turning and jaws dropping. I don’t hear Tanner’s little brother shout out, “Way to go, man!!” And I definitely don’t hear a spattering of half-confused and half-appreciative applause.

Fuck it. Yeah. I hear all of that.

And whether they’re applauding our field goal kiss, or my talent as a dessert chef, I don’t know. Tanner’s consuming me in front of the world, and I let him.

Then, quite suddenly, the one and only thing I hear is his hot, jagged breaths as they beat against my face in feverish explosions.

Those breaths speak a million words. He’s liberated. He’s determined. He’s scared. He’s brave.

And I’m right here with him.

I bring my hands up to his face, engaging myself in the kiss as much as he has. The touch to his face makes him calm, as if he had been reaching across some great, scary chasm for me—muscles quivering, eyes glassy with fear, fingers outstretched—and I just accepted his hand.

Our lips detach. We look into each other’s eyes.

Now let’s try not to fall down that chasm.

Tanner faces the room. Then, as if the kiss and his declaration didn’t just happen, he lifts his hand. “C’mon, people! Give your dessert chef here and Biggie’s Bites the round of applause they deserve!” He lets go of me and starts clapping.

It’s Kirk in the back whose deep voice booms over the room. “Hell yeah!! Best damned burgers and desserts in Spruce!”

“Biggie’s Bites rocks!!” cries out Joel, making Mindy laugh.

Then others shout their own versions of excitement, and soon the room is exploding in the joyous applause that Tanner was trying to summon a minute ago.

Y’know. Before he buried his tongue down my throat in front of the whole town of Spruce.

With the room applauding and cheering, the DJ takes a cue from his own intuition and resumes the music. Tanner looks back at me, a sweaty, red-cheeked look of happiness exploding across his face, and he reaches for my hand. “C’mon,” he tells me with a wink. “Let’s make the rounds to all your adoring fans.”

“Tanner,” I murmur unblinkingly. “What did we just do?”

“We just told the world how amazing you are.”

“Tanner. Y’know dang well that’s not what I’m talking about.”

But before we can carry on our own conversation, we’re descended upon by face after face from the crowd. Each person wants to offer their praises to me for the wickedly sweet way I worked everyone’s tongue tonight—and not just Tanner’s. Some people ask me for my recipes. Others just want to know how I came up with some of the desserts, especially the raspberry-swirled custard-filled cream puffs. I have to improvise coy responses on the spot, telling them just enough to pique their interest while also retaining some of the mystery. What’s a chef, after all, without a secret

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