Deep, Deep Donuts by Megan Wade
Tamara
“Hi there, what can I get you?” I ask, smiling at the freckle-faced boy as he dumps a fistful of coins on the tiny counter of my donut van. He squints up at me.
“I dunno. What can I buy?” he gestures to the money, and I do a quick count.
“You can get one glazed, or two cinnamon.”
“Hmm.” He taps his chin in thought. “I’m thinkin’ two cinnamon.”
“Great choice,” I say with a smile as I scoop up the change and drop it in the till. “They’re fresh off the fryer so they’re nice and hot.”
“Yum!” His eyes light up and he licks his lips.
“Here you go, buddy,” I say once I’ve bagged the donuts and handed them over to him.
“Thanks, miss.” He pauses to inhale the sweet-smelling goodness in his bag. “One day when I grow up, I’m gonna marry a lady just like you. Then I can eat all the donuts I want for free.”
“Those are some great aspirations you’ve got there.” I laugh. “But don’t you wanna marry someone for love?” The kid looks about nine or ten years old, and he thinks on this a moment.
“Well, I really love donuts,” he explains. “So, it’s kinda the same thing.”
“I guess you’re right,” I say, chuckling to myself as the boy runs off and I get to serve my next customer. Of which there are plenty. Business has been booming lately, and it's all thanks to the donut truck.
Previous to this, I had an ice cream truck that I would drive around to local parks and sporting venues outside school hours and on the weekends. I was doing OK like that, but the winter months we're never kind. I had to hope that I made enough money selling ice cream throughout the warmer months to get me through the cold ones. And that wasn't always the case. Especially when my trusty all ice-cream van decided to go kaput and the only thing I could get in my price Range was this donut van.
In the beginning, the plan had been to transfer all the equipment from the ice cream truck into the donut van and keep going as I was. But the cost ended up being prohibitive, and since I had already organized to spend the summer with a friend at her parents’ lake house on none other than the famous Lovers Lake, I decided to try my luck at selling donuts instead. It’s the best decision I ever made. Well, except for the part where I don’t have the necessary permit to be selling donuts.
Like all responsible business owners, I got my licensing requirements sorted long before I hit the road. But they were all done when I had the old van that sold cold, pre-packaged food. Cooking and selling donuts in the back of an uninspected van isn’t what I’m licensed for. And while I do plan to get officially certified, cash flow is again impeding my abilities. So, if I can just get through the summer and put a little cash aside, I can afford to get recertified and operate within the scope of the law. Until then, I’m doing my best to avoid my yearly health inspection and steer clear of the local authorities. Namely Officer Lee.
Officer Lee is the local bicycle cop who patrols the lake. He’s both the thorn in my side and the tingle in my panties. Coming in at six foot two, he has the build of a football player, dark hair cropped close to his head, at least two days’ worth of stubble at all times, and dark soulful eyes that would melt even the Sea Witch’s frozen heart if she ever saw him. He also looks amazing in a pair of cycling shorts, not-at-all geeky in a bicycle helmet, and when he smiles, it makes my heart and my belly do swirling flip-flops together.
Unfortunately for me, a smiling Officer Lee is something I’ve only ever witnessed from a distance. It’s his scowl I see more often.
With him being a member of law enforcement, the last thing I want to do is cross paths with him in my illegal donut van. So, while my friend, Sasha, works on her tan, she also keeps an eye out for sexy cops on push bikes and sends me a text the moment she sees him coming my way. It gives me just enough time to close the fryer and pull down the shutter before booking it out of there, while Officer Lee chases me on his bicycle. Thankfully, four wheels and a motor are much faster than muscular—drools—thighs, two wheels and pedal power. We’re a month into the season and he’s yet to catch me.
“That’ll be five-seventy, thanks,” I say, smiling at the lady buying a jelly donut for herself and her partner. He takes the box from her and sneaks a look inside while she gets out her purse.
“These are seriously the best donuts I’ve ever tasted,” he says as he licks his lips.
“Why, thank you. Be sure to tell your friends.”
The woman hands me a ten-dollar bill. “Oh, we already have. Keep the change.”
Then she’s off and I’m just about to serve the next in line when my cell buzzes and a text saying, HOT COP! INCOMING! comes through.
“Sorry, guys! All sold out,” I say quickly, reaching up for the shutter as I’m met with a chorus of groans. “I promise to come back tomorrow.”
The groans continue while they turn and throw their hands in the air. Their reactions make me wince and cry for all the revenue I just lost, not to mention the curves I’m going to add to my already abundant figure from eating leftovers.
Sure, I could just toss them out, but I am seriously excellent at making donuts, and delicious delicacies such as these should not be abandoned in the trash. Therefore, my current diet consists of donuts, coffee, and little else. I may or may not be riding a sugar high from dusk till dawn—hashtag blessed.
While I can joke about my predicament, I can’t help but wonder how much better business would be if I could just stay in the one place all day long. But beggars can’t be choosers, and if I want to stay in business at all, I need to bolt to avoid getting shut down and fined.
“Miss!” The hottie bike cop’s voice filters in through my side window as I jump into the driver’s seat, and I gasp, thinking he’s right on top of me.
Turning toward the sound, I start the engine, locking eyes with the gorgeous officer, throwing a ‘sorry’ his way as I speed out of the parking lot.
As usual, the man chases me. And as usual, I drive like a madwoman in order to get away—within the road rules, of course. I don’t need him taking down my plate and sending me a fine for speeding, but I do need to get up to speed faster than he can so I can take a couple of corners, double back then disappear the other way. It’s a well-practiced maneuver, and one that I’m now rather proficient performing, which just means I feel comfortable risking him gaining a little ground so I can take an extra-long peek in the side mirror.
While I wait at the stop sign, I pick up a strawberry glazed donut and take a bite as I watch those muscular thighs work rhythmically, mesmerizingly, tantalizingly up and down. Yum. And we both know I’m not talking about the donut.
Beeeeeep!
The car behind me honks, snapping me out of my too-long, too-risky snack break. And a good thing too, because Officer Lee is now right on my tail. Tossing my donut out the window for the birds, I lick the sweetness off my fingers then place both hands on the wheel, gripping it tight. Let’s do this.
