Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 56961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
I grabbed a towel to wipe my hands on and hustled around the large table to the archway. “C’mere,” I said, gesturing him back to the kitchen. There was no need for him to be nervous, and I wanted to put him at ease as quickly as I could. “I could use your help with something.”
Hannah’s eyes widened from where she stood putting money in the cash drawer. I never needed help in the kitchen. In fact, back in Chicago, I was notorious for biting the head off anyone getting in my space while baking. But things were different today. First of all, I was no longer in the cutthroat environment of the big city. I’d left it for this very reason. I’d hated being angry and stressed all the time. I’d sold off the big chain of bakeries I’d built and started Honey’s so I could get back to enjoying the process of baking.
Secondly, this was Miller. I couldn’t think of someone I more wanted in my space than this sweetheart.
He cautiously made his way around the bakery counter and through the archway. I guided him to where I’d been sifting powdered sugar over stencils on a batch of flourless chocolate cakes.
“I have twenty cakes that need sugaring, but several dozen cookies are ready for decorating, too. Would you mind helping me while we wait for Mikey’s apple turnovers to finish baking?”
Miller’s eyes widened. “This is the shape of a snowflake. It’s so intricate and… well, pretty. How did you come up with it?”
I gestured to the sink, where we both needed to wash our hands. “Unfortunately, I can’t take credit for powdered sugar stenciling, although I did design this particular snowflake. We have several stencils we use. We have ones with our logo on it in multiple sizes.”
After we washed our hands and found him an apron, I showed him how to place the stencil and shake the sugar over it. I could tell he was nervous, but I assured him any mistakes he made would simply mean cutting that cake into sample bites for our customers.
“It’s fine,” I said, trying to reassure him. “I always make extra just in case.”
While he began sugaring the cakes, I got to work decorating cookies across the big table from him. Even though there were a million questions I wanted to ask him, I could tell he needed a little time to get used to his process before being up for conversation.
After a few minutes, he was the one to break the silence. “I just realized what you’re doing.”
I glanced at the cookies I was working on. “I cover them all with a royal icing base before adding the rest of the—”
He laughed, and it was the best sound I’d ever heard in my kitchen. “That’s not what I mean. You’re distracting me with an activity to make conversation easier.”
I grinned at him. “I didn’t do it intentionally, but I guess you’re right. Is it working?”
“It’s unnecessary,” he said. “You’re easy to talk to. Besides, you’re only one person. Not nearly as intimidating as a roomful.”
“Yeah? Because I want to ask you a million questions,” I blurted.
“You do?” Miller looked up at me in surprise. A dusting of sugar puffed into the air above the shaker as he turned to face me. “About what?”
Heat flooded my face. I tried hiding it by focusing back on the cookies in front of me. “Everything. What you like, what you don’t like. What you do for a living. Where you live. Who your friends are.” I swallowed and asked the one question that might make the others less relevant. “If you’re taken.”
Another puff of sugar blasted between us as the shaker fell onto the table. Miller cursed and scrambled for it, grabbing it before it had a chance to mar the cakes nearby. His frantic apologies danced between us, tipping through the fragrant air until I was giddy with them.
“It’s okay,” I assured him, coming around the table to his side and removing the shaker from his hands. After I set it safely down, I reached out to brush some of the powder off his cheek. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot,” I said softly as I spent a little too much time making sure his skin was free of the sugar.
I could smell the scent of something fresh and clean coming off his skin, strong enough to be a cologne. Was it possible he’d taken special care this morning before coming here?
I needed to know the answer to my last question.
Miller met my eyes. “No. That is… not… not taken. I’m not. Taken.” He swallowed. “But I…”
I brushed my thumb across his full lower lip before moving my hand down to brush some of the sugar from the apron over his chest. It wasn’t necessary—what were aprons for if not to catch dust and crumbs?—but I couldn’t keep my hands off him.