by Jae
Ashley ducked her head. Her gaze flicked back and forth between the table and Sasha’s face. “Do you…?” She stopped herself. “Sorry. It’s none of my business.”
Sasha knew she should leave it at that, but she found herself saying, “You can ask. I don’t mind.”
Ashley hesitated. She rubbed at a small, green stain on the tabletop. It didn’t come off. “Do you ever hear from her?”
“I get the obligatory card on my birthday, and she calls every now and then, but really…what is there to say? She can’t relate to my life. Never could. She especially doesn’t understand why I’m still living here. Apparently, she hated every minute she spent here. That’s why she left. She said life in Fair Oaks was suffocating and choked her creativity.” Sasha snapped her mouth shut. Wow. She hadn’t meant to say so much, but once she had started talking, the words had bubbled up from somewhere deep inside.
“Oh, so that’s why she left? I heard people say…” Ashley blushed. “Forget it. I should know better than to listen to gossip.”
Sasha knew exactly what people were saying. The stories about her mother leaving her father because of another man had been circulating for decades, no matter how often her father had tried to set the record straight. Maybe that had been part of the reason why he had moved away years ago.
“Sorry to disappoint. There was no hot French lover who swept her away to Paris. At least that’s something to be said for her, huh? The only person she ran off for was herself. Apparently, real art can only be created when you live as a hermit in a beach house, with no husband and kid around.” Gently, Sasha closed the sketchbook, as if to confirm that this chapter of her life was closed for good.
“You proved her wrong.” Ashley’s voice was soft, yet full of conviction. She slid the sketchbook out from under Sasha’s bigger hand and opened it to the last sketch. “Because this…” She caressed the flower cascade on the page with a tenderness that made Sasha shiver. “…this is art.”
Sasha swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat. Where the hell was this coming from? It had been years since she had gotten so emotional over her mother. She forced a smile. “If you think that’s art, wait until you see the actual cake.”
“Can’t wait.” Ashley’s eyes held a knowing look, as if she understood the need to change the subject. “Just one tiny thing for when you make the sugar flowers… The filaments on the variety of alstroemeria I’ll be using for the bridal bouquets are actually a soft pink, not white.”
“Filaments?” Sasha repeated, not sure what part of the flower that was.
“The flower penis, basically,” Brooke called from her position at the counter.
“Christ, Brooke!” Ashley wrinkled her nose. A light pink dusted her cheeks.
Sasha had noticed that she blushed easily. Was it wrong of her to find that charming?
“What?” Brooke answered. “It is, kind of.”
“The stamens are the part of the flower that carries the pollen.” Ashley looked around as if searching for the right kind of flower to show her. “See those Stargazer lilies over there? The thin parts sticking out from the center of the blooms are the filaments. They support the anther, where the pollen is produced.”
Sasha got up from her chair to take a closer look at the large, pink blooms.
“Don’t get too close,” Ashley said, just as Sasha bent over the flowers. “They look like they’re about ready to explo—”
A blast of orange powder burst from one of the lilies, dusting the front of Sasha’s shirt.
“Oops.” Sasha looked down at her stained shirt with a lopsided grin. “I think your flower just threw up on me or something.”
“Oh my God!” Ashley jumped up. “I’m so sorry. That’s why I had the lilies back here. I always remove the stamens from all the lilies as soon as they open, especially since the pollen is toxic to animals and I need to be careful because of Casper.”
“No big deal.” Sasha lifted her hand to brush off the pollen.
“No!” Ashley raced over and grabbed her hand. Her fingers were warm and unexpectedly strong. Then, as if only belatedly realizing what she had done, she let go. “Don’t touch it. It won’t wipe off. If you touch it, your fingers will be stained orange for days.”
“Yeah,” Brooke said from the doorway. “That stuff is bad. Gives you Cheetos fingers. Good thing human semen is not—”
“Brooke!” Ashley spun around to her. “You know what? It seems to be a quiet afternoon. Why don’t you take off early?”
“Really? Wow, thanks. See you next week!” Brooke didn’t hesitate. Within seconds, the bell jingled as the front door closed behind her.
Ashley groaned. “Sorry. That’s what I get for employing a teenager. She’s normally pretty mature for her age, but sometimes…”
“Don’t worry about it. She’s all right just the way she is.” Not to mention the fact that her interaction with Ashley was pretty hilarious. Sasha looked down at the orange dust on her shirt. “Is there something we can do about this? Or do I just go home with a Cheetos chest and try to soak the shirt?”
“That wouldn’t help. The only way to get it off is this.” Ashley stretched her arm past Sasha and dragged a massive Scotch tape dispenser closer.
“Tape?”
“Yeah.” Ashley tore off a long piece, held it between both hands with the sticky side down, and stepped closer, right into Sasha’s personal space. “Like this.” She gently pressed the tape onto the pollen—which covered the top of Sasha’s left breast. Then, obviously realizing her hand was on Sasha’s chest, she froze.
Sasha’s heartbeat sped up beneath her hand, and a tingle went down her body, but her feet seemed to be rooted to the spot, so stepping back wasn’t an option.
“Oh my God!” Ashley snatched her hand away and jumped back as if she had burned herself. “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to…”
Sasha cleared her throat. “Well, it worked.”
“Um, pardon me?”
“The tape trick. It worked.” Sasha nodded down at her shirt, then wanted to slap herself. Yeah, sure, draw attention to your breasts, why don’t you? Idiot.
Ashley stared down at her chest, but Sasha wasn’t sure if she was looking at the strip of fabric where the pollen had been lifted off or at her hardened nipples that were clearly visible through the shirt.
“Oh. That’s nice,” Ashley mumbled. “I mean, good that it worked. Wouldn’t want you to have to throw away the shirt. Here.” She pushed the Scotch tape dispenser toward Sasha.
Sasha tore off a strip of sticky tape and lifted the remaining pollen off her shirt. Her breasts felt achy and strained against the fabric. Why the hell was a simple, accidental touch affecting her like this? Had to be pre-menstrual hormones or something.
Ashley turned away and walked to the table, where she stood with her back to Sasha. “You know, I’ve been thinking about these little buds of yours.”
Sasha paused with the tape in hand. Her gaze went to her nipples that were currently tenting the fabric of her shirt. At Ashley’s words, they seemed to get even harder. “Um, you have?”
“Yeah. They just look so mouthwatering.”
Heat flared through Sasha. She swallowed but couldn’t get her vocal cords to work. Finally, she managed to croak out, “They do?”
“Yes! Don’t you think so?”
Ashley’s voice was so casual, it finally dawned on Sasha that she couldn’t possibly be talking about her nipples. Ashley wasn’t the type to comment on a woman’s anatomy, no matter how obvious it was. “Oh, you mean the sugar roses?”
“Yes. What did you think I—?”
“Oh, nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Sasha exhaled sharply and ordered her breasts to behave as she tossed away the tape and dropped down into her chair. “So, what about my…the roses?”
“Do you think you could ma
ke some more of the little ones that you’re planning to put on the bottom tier of the cake? I was thinking we could decorate the cake table with gum paste flowers instead of real ones and maybe even put some onto each table at the reception.”
Sasha’s body temperature slowly went back to normal as she focused on work. “Yeah, sure. I could totally do that. Do you want some of the Peruvian lilies too?”
“If it’s not too much work.”
“Depends on how many weddings guests we’re talking about,” Sasha answered. “I have a feeling Holly and Leo might not end up with that small, intimate wedding they wanted. Leo’s mom came in to get some scones yesterday, and the guest list she has in mind sounded like Fair Oaks’s phone book.”
Ashley laughed.
The doorbell from the other room announced the arrival of a customer.
“I’ll be right out,” Ashley called through the open door. She got up and whistled for Casper so he wouldn’t bother the customer.
“Take your time,” the customer answered. It sounded like Regina Beasley, whose husband owned the local funeral home. “I’ll be looking around. I want something special today.”
Casper loped into the back room.
Sasha got up too. “Oh, that reminds me. Do you have plans for this weekend? I need someone to experiment with.” She couldn’t help teasing Ashley but lowered her voice so Mrs. Beasley wouldn’t hear. “Interested?”
Ashley looked nearly as stunned as she had when she’d realized she had her hand on Sasha’s breast. “Uh…”
Sasha burst out laughing. “I want to try out some new dog treat recipes on Sunday morning, and since my aunt put Snickerdoodle on a diet, I was thinking Casper might want to taste-test.”
“Dogs aren’t allowed in a bakery, are they?”
“No, but I was thinking you could keep me company and maybe taste-test some snacks of the non-doggie kind and then take the dog treats home to Casper.” Sasha took her coat and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “As exciting as trying out new recipes is, sitting around on my own, waiting until the timer goes off, can get a little boring.”
“And you’re sure Casper is the right dog for the job? His tastes aren’t very discerning. He eats anything.”
“My favorite kind of customer,” Sasha answered. “Maybe he’ll inspire you to finally try a different type of cupcake.”
“I’m not committing to that,” Ashley said, but Sasha noticed that she hadn’t said no to the invitation.
“So you’re coming? Sunday at ten?”
Ashley walked to the doorway. “I’ll be there,” she said just before stepping through to the front of the store.
Sasha watched her greet Mrs. Beasley and tried to rein in her grin. She didn’t even know why she had spontaneously asked Ashley to come over on Sunday, yet alone why her agreeing had made her so happy. They would merely bake doggie treats, and there would be no more touching of breasts, accidental or otherwise.
Chapter 7
“What on earth are you doing?” Ash mumbled to herself as she drove across town on Sunday morning. Dropping by the bakery for a wedding collaboration was one thing, but keeping Sasha company while she baked doggie treats was something entirely different.
Well, it wasn’t as if she had a lot of other options, she admitted to herself. Or maybe she did have options—God knew she got a lot of invitations from church groups, the bowling league, the book club at the library, and even her mother’s knitting circle to join them—but none of these offers appealed to her. She had certainly tried, but making it seem as if she fit in with the rest of them took too much of an effort, so she had slowly let these activities die away.
Now Saturday nights at the bar with the gang and lunch with her folks on Sunday were the only outings she had all week. Admittedly, weekends could get a little lonely these days. Once all the work in the shop was done, all that remained was Netflix and long walks with Casper.
“And I’m perfectly happy with that,” she said out loud, as if that would make it true.
She parked her SUV across the street from the bakery but didn’t get out or shut off the engine. White-knuckling the steering wheel, she debated with herself about whether she should actually go in or call Sasha and make up some excuse about why she couldn’t make it after all. Yeah, like a sudden bout of idiocy.
Movement drew her attention. Ashley turned her head.
Sasha was sitting on the steps of the bakery, waving at her.
Damn. Now leaving was no longer an option. With a sigh, Ashley turned off the engine and got out of the car.
“Morning,” Sasha called over to her. “This isn’t too early for you, is it?”
“God, no. I’m used to getting up before sunrise.”
Sasha nodded and got up. “Another thing our jobs have in common. Come on in. I have coffee.”
When they stepped inside the bakery, the scent of cinnamon hung in the air.
Ashley’s mouth watered. “That’s not the doggie treats I’m smelling, is it?”
“No, that’s yours.” Sasha walked over to the back counter and pressed a few buttons on the chrome espresso machine, which came to life with a hiss. “I made cinnamon rolls as a reward for you helping me.”
“Helping? I thought I was just supposed to keep you company.” Ashley chuckled nervously. “Trust me, you don’t want me to help with the baking. I’ve never baked anything more challenging than a brownie mix.”
“There’s a first time for everything.” Sasha handed her a paper cup of coffee without having to ask how she took it. She probably remembered her preferences from when Ashley had ordered a coffee with her daily cupcake.
“Thanks.” Ash inhaled the aroma of the freshly brewed coffee. “But I think I’ll stick with keeping you company. I’ve really got the baker’s equivalent of a black thumb.”
Sasha shrugged. “Fine. Be a pillow princess.”
The first sip of coffee Ashley had just taken shot out of her nose. “Jesus, Sasha! You can’t say things like that!” She wiped her nose and chin and then automatically glanced over her shoulder, but, of course, they were alone in the bakery.
Sasha grinned unrepentantly. “Oh, I can. My bakery, my rules. Come on.” With her hand on the small of Ashley’s back, she guided her toward the kitchen.
That big, warm hand rested there as if it was the most natural thing in the world. To Ash, it was everything but. The touch wasn’t unpleasant, though. When Sasha finally took her hand away, Ash’s back felt strangely cold. She shivered.
“You cold? Don’t worry. That’ll change in a second.” Sasha preheated one of the ovens and then slung an apron around her hips with practiced movements.
“So, what are we making?” Ashley asked when they both washed their hands at the sink.
“We?”
“You.”
“I was thinking of doing both doggie cupcakes and muffins.” Sasha’s hair disappeared beneath her black bandanna. Her pirate look made Ashley smile. “You up for that?”
“Sure. As long as I’m out of here by noon to have lunch with my folks, we’re good.”
“Then let’s get started.” Sasha handed Ashley an apron, set a cupcake pan onto the worktable, and lined it with paper liners. “Could you get me two eggs from the fridge and two bananas from that bowl over there?”
“Um, didn’t we agree that I wouldn’t be helping?”
“We agreed you wouldn’t be baking…which you aren’t. You’re just handing me the ingredients. Strictly speaking, that’s not baking.”
Ashley regarded her with a shake of her head. “Has anyone ever told you that you should have been a lawyer?”
“My dad. He always wanted me to follow in his footsteps.”
Ash put on the apron, went to the giant fridge, and took out two eggs, which she carried over to Sasha along with the requested bananas. “But practicing
law held no appeal to you?”
Sasha spread her arms wide.
Her impressive wingspan made Ash stare for a moment. God, she probably gave amazing hugs. She shoved the silly thought away.
“Look around.” Sasha gestured at the kitchen. “Would you trade this for a lawyer’s office?”
“No,” Ash said without having to think about it. “There’s just something so satisfying about…”
“Working with your hands,” they finished together and grinned at each other.
Sasha nodded. “Yeah. You get it. My father never did. Does yours?”
“Oh yeah. I’m lucky, at least in that regard. Both of my parents were completely supportive from the moment I first told them I wanted to open a flower shop. Guess it comes with the territory, my dad being a farmer and all.”
“That makes sense.” Sasha mashed up the bananas and cracked open the eggs on the edge of the bowl with just one hand. Her motions were efficient and elegant at the same time. It was like watching a ballet dancer performing a familiar routine.
She added freshly ground peanut butter and a little milk, then sifted flour on top, with Ash handing her each of the ingredients.
They worked unexpectedly well together, and to her surprise, Ash found that she enjoyed helping.
In what seemed like no time at all, Sasha spooned the batter into the paper liners, slid the pan into the oven, and set the timer. “I still need a name for them.” She pointed at the oven. “Peanut butter and banana cupcakes for dogs might be pretty boring. Any ideas?”
“Oh God. You’re asking the wrong person.” Ash took a sip of her coffee that had gone lukewarm. “I nearly named my shop Ashley’s Flower Shop. It was my mom who suggested The Flower Girl. I’m afraid I’m not very creative.”
Sasha leaned against the worktable and folded her strong arms across her chest. “I don’t believe that for a second. I’ve seen the bouquets and centerpieces you design. You’re very creative.”