Café Rouge

Chapter 15: Dat dough thou

Chapter 15

Safe to say it was an enjoyable but early night. There was nothing more than just making-out, however that was enough-enough to leave them both breathless, not just physically but also mentally at the prospect of something blossoming between them. For now, neither think too deeply on these feelings, allowing what is there to calmly and delicately remain at the surface. For now, they decide they don't need a label.

Like he promised, Carlos returns from work the next day baring a vase for their daisies. Lola, having had a sudden urge to bake, washes her hands of the sticky bread dough before she transfers the flowers.
"Is that wholemeal?" asks Carlos pointing towards the oven which is currently cooking her seeded bread rolls.

He must admit coming home to the scent of his apartment smelling like freshly baked bread is welcoming. Even more welcoming is the attractive woman with her sloppy ponytail in an apron, cooking. He doesn't know if the sight is so appealing to him because of some innate sexist trait in him, or if it's because it is Lola? Did he feel the same way for Valentina? He can't quite remember. She certainly cooked. She loved to cook, but Carlos can't remember ever seeing her sloppy with anything she did. He does remember that when Valentina cooked she was very neat, pristine, following her recipes to a T. There was never any flour dusting the floor like Lola, and Valentina certainly never got any mess on her clothes. At the time, he remembers he'd been in awe of her; of this superwoman-back of course, before she was ever addicted to anything.

Clearly, Lola is a far cry from superwoman but it is her 'human' nature, Carlos finds all the more charmed by.

"I made a few wholemeal for you," she answers, back to rolling out the dough.
She'd predicted he'd only eat it if it was wholemeal, so she'd made a batch of just wholemeal, despite the difficulty of working with the healthier bread.
"Oh...thank you."
Lola glances up smiling, "no problem. Now, come help me kneed this damn dough."

Unexpectedly, Carlos actually swings off his jacket, loosens his tie and rolls up his sleeves. Washing his hands, his body nudges hers aside as he starts pressing into the tough mixture.

Lola's mesmerised for a minute watching the sinewy muscles of Carlos's tanned forearms flexing, a thin blueish vein throbs against rough skin, while long, thick fingers spread wide. Brown eyes, instinctively draw to the fourth finger on his left hand, imagining a gold band on there proclaiming him as hers.
Those same eyes, widen just a fraction as Lola halts those wild thoughts before they mature any further. No, no, no. She can't be thinking of him as her anything-especially not her husband.

Thankfully, the radio starts playing a song again, which she quickly fixates on. It's an upbeat pop kind of song, that just requires some kind of moment; a little swing of the hips, a nod of the head or even a shuffle of the shoulders. Lola finds herself humming along quietly; her feminine high-pitched tune is soon joined by a deeper, softer tone. She grins at Carlos in surprise, testing him by singing louder. He's quick to join in and before the song they're both singing loudly as they press the bread into a bread tin to bake.

The next song's just as upbeat and this time, they're quick to throw themselves into it. Lola soon finds herself moving and grooving along and around the kitchen, grasping her partner's hand when he hesitates.
Her enthusiastic mood is too infectious to resist and before he knows it Carlos finds himself dancing and twirling with Lola.

As the song, all too soon, fades out, Lola's dissolved into a giggling mess in his arms and he doesn't mind at all. In fact, he's captivated by her almost child-like snorts of laughter-so carefree and full of joy.
His hands are around her waist, holding her steady as she wobbles backwards to lean against the messy counter.