by Leigh Duncan
No one wanted to see that happen. Not even him.
So, when the other shopkeepers in town had asked him to use whatever influence he had to keep Jenny on track, he’d had no choice but to agree. Though he hadn’t thought much of the idea at first, he had to admit, their strategy was working. Over the past week, he’d stuck close to her side. One afternoon, they’d admired the azaleas and roses at the Captain’s Cottage. On another, they’d counted the carved stone hearts mounted on the facades of businesses throughout Heart’s Landing. Through it all, he’d done his best to reinforce the choices Jenny had made for the ceremony that loomed ever closer. And it had worked. A week had passed since she’d made a single change to her wedding plans.
Now, he just had to maintain the status quo for a few more days, and like a long line of dominoes, everything would fall into place. On Saturday, Jenny would walk down the aisle to marry her fiancé. Meanwhile, Mildred was hard at work on the floral arrangements, Janet was making sure everyone would be well fed, Roy and JoJo had mapped out their game plans for videos and pictures, and the twins anticipated the arrival of the last items for the gift bags any day. As long as nothing else changed, in one week everyone would pat themselves on the back for delivering a picture-perfect wedding for yet another Heart’s Landing bride. All thanks to his involvement.
So, why, exactly, had he invited Jenny to an impromptu baking session?
He shook his head. He couldn’t honestly answer that question. Because, if he were being honest, he’d have to point out that Jenny didn’t wear the dreamy-eyed expression of a bride who was deeply in love with her fiancé. If he faced facts, he’d have to say there was something wrong when a man claimed he was too busy to plan his wedding, but countermanded every decision his bride made. If he told the truth, he’d have to admit that his attraction to Jenny went far deeper than the kindness he showed other brides who walked into I Do Cakes.
None of which was something he was prepared to do.
Developing feelings for a bride-to-be wasn’t just asking for heartache, it went against his moral code. It warred against the lessons of respect and honor he’d learned from his father. The town had staked its reputation on giving every bride a perfect wedding. He believed in fulfilling that promise, no matter what.
So, he wouldn’t comment on Jenny’s cool and, yes, often confusing, attitude toward her fiancé. At least, not again. He definitely wouldn’t drop a single, solitary hint that he thought she was marrying the wrong man. And he wouldn’t admit he liked Jenny far more than he ought to. Or compliment her on her outfit. Or, most especially, wrap his arms around her and brush a kiss through her freshly washed hair.
All of which sounded as easy as whipping up a batch of cookies while he was alone. It was a good bit more challenging when the bride-to-be in question stood at I Do Cakes’ back door, looking adorable in a touristy T-shirt and a pair of jeans.
“I hope I’m not too early,” she offered, her tentative smile giving her an air of naive vulnerability.
“Not at all. You’re right on time.” A jolt of unwanted attraction surged through him. He reined in fingers that itched to trace the ponytail that curled over her shoulder. “Grab an apron,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically gruff.
He turned abruptly, but not before he caught the puzzled frown that formed on Jenny’s face. His spine softened at the hurt in her eyes, and he stifled a groan. It wasn’t her fault that he was acting like a jerk, but the more time he spent around her, the more his feelings got the best of him.
Determined to do better, he fought his emotions into submission while he grabbed bowls and measuring cups. He ground his back teeth together as he issued a stern reminder that he was simply giving a cooking lesson to a woman who didn’t know her way around a kitchen. Firmly, he clamped a lid over anything that would dilute his focus while Jenny slipped one of I Do Cakes’ chocolate-and-pink aprons over her head and deftly tied the strings into a bow. Her footsteps slow, she moved to his side.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, hesitant. “I don’t want to be a bother if you have something else to do.”
“No, it’s not you. It’s me. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me for a minute.”
Okay, that last part was a lie, but a necessary one. He couldn’t very well admit how he really felt about having her in his kitchen, couldn’t say how much he looked forward to spending time with her.
When doubt lingered in Jenny’s dark eyes, he summoned the apologetic smile he owed her. Hoping to get things back to normal between them, he offered, “My alarm clock went off a whole lot earlier than I wanted it to.”
Which was true. This last week or so, he’d been getting up at three to fill the orders for the bakery and still have time to see Jenny. It was a tough schedule to stick to, but he’d promised the others he’d keep a close eye on her. Though it meant a few less hours of sleep each night, and clamping a heavy lid down over his growing feelings for her, he was a man of his word. Besides, it was only for another few days.
“Oh!” Jenny’s lips curved upward. “So, you get grumpy when you need a nap? Don’t worry. I’ll nudge you if you fall asleep.” Her eyes brightening, she prodded his upper arm with her elbow. Her gaze dropped to the array of supplies on the counter. “I guess we’d better get started before you nod off.”
Nick cleared his throat. Jenny’s light banter had washed away the last of his unwanted tension. Relieved that his momentary lapse hadn’t ruined things between them, he tapped a wooden spoon against the side of the bowl he’d prepared before her arrival. “In here, we have flour to bind everything together, sugar to sweeten, a touch of salt, and some baking soda.” He pointed to a different bowl. “That one holds butter, milk, and eggs. When we mix the two together, the soda will combine with the liquid and cause tiny bubbles of air. Those are essential. They get trapped in the batter and make the cake rise.”
Jenny eyed him solemnly. “You make baking sound like a chemistry experiment. You add the right ingredients in the right proportions, and you get a certain reaction.”
“Right,” he agreed, pleased that she appreciated the science of baking as much as he did. “In this case, we’ll get a soft, tender cupcake instead of something like a scone or a flatbread. Next, you have to decide what flavor you want.”
Jenny’s lips pursed. “What are my choices?”
He gestured toward a line of containers. Each bore a label in the bakery’s signature colors. “Whatever you want.” He shrugged. “Dutch chocolate. Peanut butter. Madagascar vanilla. A wide variety of fruits. What’s your favorite?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Jenny reached for the tin of cocoa. “Chocolate, of course.”
Nick stifled a grin as she dumped an insane amount of dark powder into the bowl that already contained the flour. To compensate for the extra dry ingredient, he deftly added a bit more butter and an extra splash of milk to the liquids.
“Now what?”
“Next comes the fun part. We mix.” Ignoring the oversized industrial unit at the opposite end of the counter, he pulled out a small hand-held mixer he used for the occasional small batch or single cake. His grin widened when Jenny reached for the device. Her awkward grip on the handle told him she’d never used one before. He stated the obvious. “You don’t cook much.”
“I’ll have you know I made a mean mac ’n’ cheese when I was in college.” In mock indignation, she propped one hand at her waist.
“From a box?” A smile tugged at his mouth.
“Okay, you got me.” Her fingers dropped to her side. “But it was still pretty good.” As though she owed him an explanation, she continued, “My aunt worked full time and helped my uncle with the family farm. She didn’t have time to have us girls underfoot in her kitchen. In college, I lived on fast food and the occasional meal from the cafeteria. After graduation, I went to work for my cousin. She has a full-time housekeeper. T
hese days, toast and coffee are about the extent of my cooking repertoire.”
“We’re going to add to that tonight,” he assured her. “By the time we finish, you’ll know how to make your own cupcakes from scratch.”
“I won’t know how much of each ingredient to use.”
“That’s the easy part. There are plenty of recipes available. You can find one in practically any cookbook.”
Doubt flickered in Jenny’s eyes. She lowered the mixer. “But they won’t be as good as yours.”
“No. They won’t be as good as mine,” he admitted. His recipes were closely guarded secrets, but even if he shared them with Jenny, hers still wouldn’t turn out quite the same. He’d spent many years honing the techniques for the fluffy buttercream frosting that was the mainstay of his business. She wouldn’t be able to learn that in a single cooking lesson. “You’ll get better with practice. Are you ready?”
She nodded and followed his direction to lower the beaters into the bowl. Like most novice bakers, she held the mixer at an angle. Which was fine, as long as she didn’t mind spraying batter over the entire kitchen.
“A little straighter,” he coached from just far enough away to avoid getting splattered or, worse, brushing against her shoulder.
When Jenny only tipped the beaters at a steeper angle, he gritted his teeth. So much for keeping his distance. He’d have to demonstrate. Cautiously, he slipped his hand over hers. Trying without much luck to ignore the floral scent that floated atop the sugary-sweet smell of the ingredients, he showed her how to hold the mixer parallel to the counter. With the flick of a switch, the motor purred to life.
Jenny’s laughter rose over the noise as the sturdy little machine churned. His heart skipped a beat as two of his favorite sounds echoed through the empty kitchen, and he gave himself another stern reminder that he and Jenny could never be more than friends. Needing an excuse to put some much-needed space between himself and the woman who was engaged to someone else, he relinquished his hold on her to grab a spatula that was just out of reach. “Be sure you scrape the sides of the bowl,” he said, handing across the plastic scraper.
Though he stayed one step out of reach, he remained alert, ready to spring into action if the beaters tipped and threatened to splatter them both with batter. Fortunately for both of them, Jenny proved an apt student.
“Good. Good,” he encouraged while the ingredients blended.
When she’d thoroughly combined the wet stuff, he grabbed the other bowl. Positioning it between them, he slowly spooned in the dry ingredients while she continued mixing. Despite his efforts to keep space between them, a sudden awareness flooded him. To compensate, he kept his head bent, his eyes on the task at hand while he did his best to concentrate on not spilling any of the mixture.
He’d barely sifted a cupful into the bowl when Jenny’s soft gasp rattled his focus. Worried that she’d somehow caught a finger in the beaters, he searched for signs of a problem. But there was nothing wrong. Instead of a grimace, Jenny’s mouth had formed an O. Her eyes had widened as the batter turned a chocolate brown. He laughed softly. Warmth spread through his chest at her clear enjoyment of something he admittedly took for granted too often. Thankful for the reminder of the simple pleasures that came from baking, he let his guard down for just an instant.
And in that moment, their eyes met.
Nick didn’t even try to look away. Time slowed and seemed to stretch while he lost himself in the depths of Jenny’s dark orbs. Or, maybe he found himself. He didn’t know. What he did know was that he didn’t want the moment to end, didn’t want to let go.
The soft whir of the mixer faltered.
Nick snapped to attention. While they were lost in each other’s gazes, Jenny had let go of the spatula. And, as they were known to do, this one had gotten caught between the beaters. He snapped off the power.
In the sudden silence, Jenny blinked as if waking from a dream. She ducked her head, but not before Nick noticed the faintest hint of a smile that played across her lips. Whatever they’d shared, she’d felt it as much as he did. And while he told himself that was a bad thing, somehow, he couldn’t help but be glad that the moment had affected her as much as it had him.
“Did I ruin it?” she asked, staring into the bowl.
“No, everything’s fine.” He grabbed the spatula by the wooden handle and tugged it free. “This happens all the time.”
“Not to me, it doesn’t,” she murmured.
Sensing her words carried a double meaning, Nick cleared his throat for the second time that night. He wasn’t quite sure how, but he managed to regain his equilibrium. Determined to hang onto it, he handed Jenny the spatula. “Let’s finish up so we can put these in the oven.” He didn’t wait for her response, but hit the power button and began adding the rest of the dry ingredients to the mix. Once the cupcakes were baking, he set the timer and turned to her again. “Ready for the fun part?”
“I thought we were already having fun,” Jenny protested, her eyebrows pulling down at the center.
“True enough,” he agreed. “But everyone likes one part of baking over another. For me, it’s the frosting.” Crossing to the fridge, he pulled out a bowl of blended butter and cream cheese. He grabbed a fresh set of beaters from a nearby drawer and snapped them into place. “This time, I’ll hold the mixer while you add the confectioner’s sugar.”
Jenny eyed the canister on the counter. “How much?”
He shrugged. “The frosting will form peaks when you’ve added enough.”
“That doesn’t sound very scientific, but I’m game.”
She scooped up a heaping measuring cup of the fine powder. Before Nick had a chance to warn her to go slowly, she dumped the whole thing into the bowl, just like she had with the cocoa. Instead of pulling the sugar into the mix, however, the beaters kicked the loose powder into a cloud that sweetened the air.
“Uh-oh!” Jenny blinked as sugar began to settle. Soon, it coated their hair, arms and faces. It dusted their clothes in snowy white. The tiny particles rained down on the counter and the floor as heat climbed onto her cheeks. “That wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?”
Nick swallowed and tasted sugar, but it was the distraught expression on Jenny’s face that required his immediate attention. “Hey, sometimes things don’t work out perfectly the first time you try something new. But it’s not a problem. You’ll do better next time.”
“Seriously? I’ve practically destroyed your kitchen.” In what must have been an attempt to clean herself up, she clapped her hands together. Her efforts merely stirred more white into the air.
Nick squinted through dusty lashes. Extra-fine sugar coated everything within a four-foot radius. “It’s easy enough to clean up. A damp rag will do the trick.” He grabbed one from the sink at the end of the counter. When he swiped it through the white dust, it left a clean streak. “See? Easy as pie.”
“I never understood why people say that. I watched my aunt make pies once. There wasn’t anything simple about it.”
“The easy part comes when you eat it.” He grinned and handed her a second cloth. “Dust yourself off, and we’ll get back to work. We’ll wait to clean the rest until we’re done. Just in case”—he shot her a teasing glance—“you know, it happens again.”
“Oh, you!” Jenny swatted at him with the rag.
Nick sidestepped just in time to avoid getting smacked. “Trust me. You’re not the first to make that same mistake. You won’t be the last.” When Jenny finished blotting her face and arms, he pointed to her cheek. “You missed a spot.”
“Here?” Jenny dabbed again.
“Nope. Still there.” He grabbed a fresh cloth and moved closer. He’d nearly reached the stubborn sugar when a plaintive meow sounded at the door.
Nick froze. The noise had kept him from making a big mistake. No matter how good he told himself his
intentions were, deep down he had to admit that he wanted to do more than brush a few sugar crystals from Jenny’s cheek. Which could only lead to trouble. He reluctantly dropped back a step. “You know what? You have a lot more on you than I thought. Why don’t you wash up in the ladies’ room while I grab our cupcakes?”
Jenny’s gaze shifted from his face to the ingredients that waited on the counter to be mixed. “But what about the frosting? I—”
He cut off her objection. He needed her to go, needed her to leave the room before he did something really dumb—like pulling her into his arms. “I’ll finish up here. Trust me. It’ll be better this way.”
Or if not better, at least safer. For both of us.
The confusion that clouded Jenny’s features cleared. Her arguments died, and she spun on one heel.
Nick clenched his teeth and watched her until she disappeared behind the swinging doors. Only then did he straighten.
Idiot. I’m an idiot.
He’d had one job to do—help a bride in need. But he’d ruined everything by falling in love. And he had fallen in love with Jenny. With her ready wit, her sparkling personality, how she went out of her way to be kind to everyone she met. He’d never known anyone like her, and he wanted them to spend the rest of their lives together. There was just one problem—she was engaged to someone else. Which meant, no matter how he felt about her, he couldn’t act on his feelings. Not even a little bit.
His mouth set in firm lines, he forced his focus to the tasks at hand. Removing the cupcakes from the oven, he set them on a nearby cooling tray. That done, he turned his attention to the frosting. By the time Jenny returned, he’d incorporated the last of the powdered sugar into the buttery mix.
And his feelings? He’d buried those so deep that Jenny would never see them.
“What flavor do you want?” Determined to stick to the program and not get lost in Jenny’s gaze, he handed her a tasting spoon loaded with frosting.