Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
I dropped the curtain back into place and stood there, my heart beating swiftly. I pulled in a deep breath and then took the step around the corner to the door and unlocked it. “Are Mimi’s accommodations not adequate?”
He smiled and my heart lurched. God, something about that smile made my insides twist. Stop getting taken in by handsome rich boys looking for an experience. That’s all you’ll ever be to them. “Mimi’s accommodations are more than adequate. We got settled in and I realized I forgot my credit card in the bill folder.”
“Oh.” I pulled the door open wider and he entered, following me over to the bar where I grabbed the leather bill folders off the top of the short pile and opened the first one. That one was empty, but when I opened the second one, his card was lying there. I picked it up and handed it to him. “An oversight.”
He took the card and stuck it in his pocket. I noted that his clothes were dry, if very wrinkled. I didn’t remember if they’d been mostly dry when he left or maybe he’d stuck them in Mimi’s dryer for a few minutes before returning here. “Or maybe you were planning on buying the place a round on me into perpetuity.” He raised a dark eyebrow, but his tone was clearly teasing.
I laughed. “I’m a negotiator, not a thief, Ivy League.”
He grinned and so did I, our eyes lingering. I propped an elbow on the bar casually, suddenly feeling slightly unsteady and needing the support. “My name’s Gage,” he said.
“I know. I read the card.”
“Ah. Right. What’s yours?”
“Rory.”
“Rory,” he repeated as if trying it out on his tongue like a new, delectable flavor. My internal muscles clenched like he’d just used that tongue on me in some extremely pleasant manner.
I laughed to release the sudden tension. “Yup. That’s it.”
His smile suddenly turned to confusion, followed quickly by alarm. “Rory, is something burning?”
“Oh shit!” I yelled, turning on my heel and running to the kitchen. I screamed again when I flung the door open to the noxious smell of smoke and burnt sugar. “Grab the fire extinguisher!” I shouted at Gage who I heard on my heels, gesturing my arm over to the wall on our left.
I turned off the oven and pulled the oven door open, coughing and turning my face away when a cloud of smoke burst forth. I used a mitt to grab the tray and pull it out, tossing it on the counter to my right in a blaze.
“Stand aside,” Gage said, and I did right before he used the fire extinguisher to put out the flaming cakes.
We both stood there, breathing heavily and waving our hands around to disperse the remaining smoke as we looked upon the charred remnants of the ruined batch of cakes I’d forgotten about. I put my face in my hands and groaned.
“Hey, all’s well that ends well,” Gage said from beside me. “You can make another batch.”
I let my arms fall to my side. “I hate baking,” I mumbled. Thank goodness I’d—or rather, Gage had—caught this in time so I didn’t need to call the fire department for assistance. Again.
Gage set the fire extinguisher down, crossing his arms as he studied me. “Listen, I realize they’re your namesake,” he shot me a wink and I couldn’t help the quirk of my lip, “but have you considered…doing away with the cakes entirely?”
“For an establishment called Cakes and Ale? That’s unacceptable,” I insisted. “Wait.” My mouth fell open in offense and I turned his way, crossing my own arms, “Did you try my cakes and find them…disappointing, Ivy League?”
Gage laughed, his eyes dancing, and that stupid flutter took up under my rib cage again. “There’s nothing disappointing about your cakes, Cakes.” He squinted one eye at me as if suddenly deep in thought. “But, you know,” he waved to the still-smoldering pile of black ash on the counter, “this choice might be overly literal. Perhaps it needs to be expanded.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“Have you considered crab cakes rather than dessert cakes?”
“Crab cakes?”
“Right. You could do all kinds. Parmesan crab cakes. Chipotle, lemon zest. You could also use different types of crab…king crab, blue crab. Perhaps consider salmon cakes too. There are a hundred different recipes and they can all be virtually the same except for a little twist which would change the taste pairing of earth and sea. It’d be easy for the kitchen. Or you could differentiate with types of aioli—”
“‘Taste pairing of earth and sea’? That’s pretty poetic, Ivy League.”
He smiled. “Maybe appropriate for a tavern that pays homage to Shakespeare?” He set his hip on the counter. “A menu sets a whole mood. Food is a necessity, but it’s also a great pleasure. People bond around it, deals are brokered over it, it provides comfort, and can be medicine for both the body and the spirit.”