by Jaime Reese
So he did.
March—two weeks later
Ben wrung his hands, waiting. As much as he loved watching Natalie shove a second forkful of cake into her mouth, he needed the feedback.
Like…now.
For the last three hours, he had obsessed over the cake she was tasting—preparing, baking, and decorating it until it was perfect to slice into. Not only was it an opportunity to do what he loved, it was a much needed distraction.
The close call had cemented Gabriel’s decision on a career change that would take him out of harm’s way. And for the last two weeks, Gabriel had stepped away from the bakery for meetings and conferences, preparing a transition team. Even though they had only known each other a short while, Ben had wanted to ask if he had played a part in the decision, even a tiny one, but he hadn’t dared. Hope was sometimes dangerous. And where Gabriel was concerned, his mind wandered to happily-ever-afters at lightning speed.
The movement of Natalie’s lips drew his attention, mumbling something he couldn’t read.
He frowned, wondering if it was rude to ask her to repeat what she had said even though she was talking with her mouth full of cake. The cake he had baked after making changes to a recipe she had tried some time ago and hated.
Hated because she couldn’t get it right.
Natalie was a master at elegant desserts and pastries. Her French wedding cakes were always in demand. But her croquembouche was anything but a traditional cake. It was a masterpiece of puff pastries stacked into the shape of a cone and finished with threads of caramel surrounding it like a delicate web of angel hair. Nothing like the traditional batter cake with icing he had baked.
Natalie finally set the plate down and wiped her mouth with the small napkin. “Sorry,” she signed. “I couldn’t stop at one mouthful. It’s that good.”
A smile twitched the corner of his mouth.
“I’m guessing you changed a few things?”
He nodded and quickly grabbed her cake recipe and the second sheet with his notes. He had searched online, watched videos, and had jotted down things he wanted to try.
She ran her finger along his scribbled notes as she read, then tapped her finger. “Here,” she signed. “With this change to the batter, you also need to reduce the cook time.”
He nodded, making a mental note of Natalie’s words as he always did when she took the time to impart some of her baking wisdom.
“What about changing this?” he signed, pointing to the icing portion of the recipe and penciling a note on the paper. For weeks, he had helped with preparations, watching as she worked, and paying close attention to every lesson she signed and note she wrote explaining why she used certain ingredients for their texture and how they interacted with others to affect baking time, consistency, and new flavors. He never thought he would be given the chance to prepare something from start to finish. Let alone take one of her old recipes and make changes. He hadn’t dared attempt more than one change, even though he had been itching to make a few tweaks.
Natalie’s gaze popped up from his sheet of notes. She slowly straightened, assessing him, her stillness worrisome. Maybe he had pushed his luck a bit too far. He swallowed heavily, waiting for her response. She was honest, brutally so at times. But she always offered something constructive to soften any harshness in her critique.
She glanced back at his scribbled notes, then returned her attention to him. “Sometimes”—she began signing as she spoke—“it’s easy to lose sight of the basics.”
He had scratched out three of her fancy ingredients and substituted them for one simple item. Not everyone could relate to the flavor of something rare and exquisite. His palate was proof of that. He leaned more toward everyday ingredients, items people could find in their local store or pantry rather than imported on a seasonal basis. He would likely never be a fancy baker offering treats some people couldn’t spell. And he was totally fine with that. As long as people were happy, enjoying what he baked.
“I wouldn’t have thought of this change,” she signed. She shook her head and stacked his written notes with her recipe, then set them on the counter. “I want you to clear all this out.” She pointed to the dirty pans and mixing bowls he had used for the cake she had just tasted.
He nodded, hoping he hadn’t offended her with his recipe change.
“I want this baking area spotless so there’s no trace of what you just made,” she said as she signed.
He nodded again, wincing even though the request was common to ensure the ingredients of one dessert never mingled with that of the next.
She grabbed the two sheets of paper, and then walked over to the side table and pulled a pair of clear sleeves from a box, the ones she used to protect the paper from smears and splatter during the mixing process of new recipes she tested. She slid her recipe in one protective sleeve and his scribbled notes in the other. After pinning both sheets to the board running eye-level across the mixing table, she turned back toward him. “Then I want you to bake this with all the changes you noted.”
He stared at her.
“Why do you look so surprised?” she signed her question with a tilt of her head. “They’re really good suggestions.”
He shrugged, not wanting to reply…not sure how to.
She walked over to him. “I love pastries and anything made with dough. The tougher it is, the more I like it. That’s my specialty. Traditional cakes, however, are not my strength, and that’s probably why I don’t eat them. But this—” She stopped signing and pointed to her empty dish with only tiny cake crumbs remaining. “I could eat the entire cake.”
Without thinking, he launched forward and threw his arms around her.
He screwed his eyes shut as a flood of memories rushed in, snapshots of him standing on a stepstool, baking cakes with his mom. His sister looking at them from the corner of the kitchen, shaking her head as she held her doll against her chest, complaining of the mess they made and how ridiculous they looked covered in flour. Those baking snapshots were his most special memories, stored away in a sacred place in his mind. The mess, the smiles, the joy of those special moments shared with his mom were priceless. They were times where only happiness existed.
For him, baking was happiness and family. Beautiful creations he could share and give to others.
He wanted to learn, bake, and fill everyone’s bellies with sugary goodness. And Natalie was making it possible. He quickly pulled away, his cheeks heating. Crap. Hugging the boss wasn’t exactly on the acceptable list of employee behavior.
She hid a smile as she glanced over to the front of the store. “Sounds like the lunch rush is starting, so I’ve got to go up front. I want you to bake that cake today. And if it tastes as good as I think it will, I want you to try another recipe, then another.”
His vision blurred. Nodding, he ducked his head, hoping to hide his emotion.
She cared. She encouraged. She didn’t think it was a silly dream.
These del Toros were supportive, kind, and givers of hope.
Everything he dreamed a family would be.
= ♥ =
After spending too many hours reviewing expectations and ironing out plans for his replacements with various clients, Bull was ready for a break.
He pushed through the bakery door and immediately spotted his sister behind one of the display cases. “Hey there, Bullette.”
She peered up at him with a scowl. That look meant she was deep in thought…and pissed off as all hell that he had interrupted her. Probably a little peeved at the nickname jab as well.
He leaned over the glass counter and pecked her cheek. “What new dessert has you thinking about manhandling it into submission?”
Finally, a laugh broke free…even if it was a small one. She turned and grabbed a small plate from the table and sliced into a cake she had on display. “Try this.”
Holding back a groan of protest, he took the small dish. There was a reason Nat didn’t bake cakes. He loved his siste
r, but after taste testing hundreds of different recipe variations, he really wished the del Toros weren’t known for their persistence.
She held up the small plastic fork, eyebrow arched in challenge.
He snatched the fork and dug into the cake, shoving the piece into his mouth before he had a chance to second-guess things. He frowned down at the slice as a burst of flavors filled his mouth. Before he finished off the first bite, he had a second one ready.
“I need you to stop eating and talk. Tell me what you think.” She turned and grabbed one of the bottled waters from the small glass case and set it on the counter.
He finished the second bite and sipped the water, not wanting to wash away the flavors. “It’s good.”
“Just good?”
He set the plate on the counter. “Don’t let your ego swell, but that’s the best cake you’ve ever made.” He quieted when her expression brightened. “I’d go as far as to say it’s the best cake I’ve ever had. It’s plain and simple, but it’s not. It doesn’t have any of that froufrou stuff you usually use.” He waited, figuring she would try to squeeze in a comment or defend her usual cake recipes, but she remained silent. “That fancy stuff is great for those pretty things you make,” he said, pointing to the display case with the different bite-sized pastries. “Sometimes, a cake just needs to be cake so you enjoy it rather than spend your time dissecting it, trying to figure out what the mystery ingredients are in it that make it taste different. That’s what this is. It’s a good ol’-fashioned cake that tastes great because it’s just a fricken great-tasting cake.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Are you finished?”
He nodded. “You mad?”
“Nope. Because I think you’re right.” She scoffed at his expression. “Whose ego is swelling now?”
“Can I finish my cake now?” he asked, reaching for his plate and breaking off another piece with his fork.
“Ben made it.”
He stopped the fork midway to his mouth. “Yeah?”
Natalie nodded. “I’ve had four slices. It’s addictive, isn’t it?”
He set the plate down, ready to make his way to the back baking area.
“Don’t you dare disturb him right now.” Nat’s firm hand on his forearm stopped him. “He’s inspired. He put one to bake and immediately started work on a second. Until that second one is finished, I don’t want him interrupted.”
After countless nights of video chatting, he knew exactly how important this opportunity was to Ben. He nodded and grabbed his plate, finishing off his slice of cake.
“Haven’t seen you much for the last two weeks.”
“Been busy. Just getting a few things in order.”
“Did you really quit?” Nat asked.
He glanced up, curious by her expression. “I didn’t quit…not really. Just made some changes I’ve been thinking about for a while. I’ll be focusing more on security assessments. So that’ll cut down on my travel time. Not all of it since some clients prefer onsite inspections after the initial assessment. But I’m ironing out a few things.”
“No more bodyguarding?”
“Is that a word?”
She playfully shoved him. “I’m being serious. I’ve got one brother and I’d like to keep him around a bit longer.” She fidgeted with the cake knife in her hand. “I know I don’t really say it, but I worry about you all the time.”
He set his fork down and walked around the counter. He wrapped his sister in a bear hug and planted a kiss on the crown of her head. “No more bodyguarding.”
“You could work here if you want. You’ve always talked about spending more time together and helping your baby sister expand her dream.”
He inched back from the embrace, clearly seeing through the sugary sweet compliment. “You bank more money when I handle the storefront, don’t you?”
She chuckled and reached up. He pulled away before she had a chance to touch his hair. No way was she messing with that hairstyle he had worked so damn hard to get right that morning. “I like your haircut. I’m sure it’ll draw a bigger crowd.”
“You’re shameless.”
“It’s a del Toro trait. Can’t help it.”
He grabbed his empty cake plate and pitched it into the garbage on his way to the baking area. “He’s been quiet for the last two minutes. I’m guessing he’s wrapping things up.”
“Gabe…”
He turned, waiting for his sister to continue.
“Please don’t hurt him.”
He planted his hands on his hips. “Do you really think I’m capable of that?”
“Sorry.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t make any sense. I’ve never had a maternal bone in my body.”
He walked back over to his sister and wrapped his arms around her. “It just proves there’s a heart under that mountain of determination and sarcasm.”
“Jerk.”
“I love you too.”
Nat tightened her hold on him. “He’s the reason, isn’t he?”
“He’s one of the reasons.” He placed another kiss at the top of Nat’s head. “You’re the other. So buckle up, buttercup, you’re going to get a heaping dose of brotherly love.”
“Can’t wait,” she whispered, squeezing him tighter. She peeked up at him, a huge grin spread wide on her face. “You haven’t called me that in years.”
“You’ve always hated it.”
“Still do.”
“Good.” He pulled himself out of Nat’s vise grip. “I’m going to the back room to see Ben now and you’re not going to stop me.” He raised a finger and narrowed his eyes. “And you’re not going to walk in there and interrupt us. Promise?”
“Fine.”
“Nope. You have to say the words. You’ll deny it otherwise.”
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I promise.”
“That means you can’t barge in with some bullshit excuse. Got it?”
She snickered. “You said bullshit.”
He raised his hands as he shook his head. He loved the women in his life, but he was no match for them when their teasing kicked in.
He strolled into the back room and stopped just inside the entryway, enjoying the private show. Ben faced the opposite wall, granting Bull a perfect view of that round ass in tight slacks. The angle of Ben’s body as he worked showed the flex of lean muscles in his forearms. With a piping bag in hand, he hovered over another cake, decorating it. A subtle tilt of Ben’s head gave Bull a three-quarter view of his face. The concentration in his expression was intense, and the tip of his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth was cute as hell. Ben scooped the piping bag upward and set the bag aside on the table. He grabbed the base of the cake stand and turned.
Sprinkles of flour dusted his dark pants and the apron he wore had a few smears of chocolate. He was a hot mess, but it was the beaming, huge grin aimed at Bull that nearly stopped his heart.
Ben hurriedly set the cake down on the counter in the center of the room and began signing. “Your sister let me bake cakes.” The speed of his signing and brightness in his eyes left little doubt his excitement would fuel him through baking a few more recipes.
“I know. I just ate a slice of one,” Bull signed his reply. “It was the best cake I’ve ever had.”
Ben eagerly grabbed a small plate from the overhead shelf in one hand and the cake knife in the other. He stopped and bit the corner of his lip as he signed, “Can you please tell Natalie I finished? I don’t want her getting mad if she wants to look at it before I cut into it.”
Bull yelled over his shoulder. “Yo, Nat! Ben’s going to cut into the cake and I’m going to have some. You cool with that?”
Ben gasped. “You’re yelling? What about the customers?” he signed, panic etched in every inch of his expression.
“Store’s empty right now.”
“You and your promises suck,” Natalie yelled back. Bull swore he could hear a muttered curse. “Save me a big slice.”
&
nbsp; He gave Ben a chin up gesture toward the cake knife. “She said to save her a slice.”
Bull took the plated cake slice and fork from Ben. Without prolonging the nervousness in Ben’s expression, he ate a forkful. He closed his eyes, moaning as he savored the mix of yellow and chocolate marble dessert. His eyes shot open when the coolness of Ben’s palm pressed against the side of his neck. While staring into those green eyes, Bull ate another bit and licked the fork clean, refusing to hold back a moan so Ben could feel just how much he enjoyed his cake.
Ben slowly pulled his hand away and held it to his chest, cupping it almost protectively with the other.
Bull set the plate down on the table. “Go out with me,” he signed without speaking. His sister likely wouldn’t eavesdrop, but he wanted the privacy.
Ben’s eyebrows twitched. “Like a date?”
Bull nodded.
“To a fancy restaurant?”
It was a good thing Bull had gotten to know Ben during their video chats. Otherwise, the sour expression would have been one hell of an ego crusher.
“I was thinking more like the fair with rides, greasy pizza, hot dogs, cotton candy, and those big pieces of fried bread they call Elephant Ears,” he signed, chuckling as Ben’s eyes rounded.
“Would they let me go?”
“Matt and Julian?”
Ben nodded.
“I asked them about it last week. Sam needs to give a final approval, but I’ve already filled out the forms and had the background check. Everything’s in place, if you want to.”
He had hesitated before getting the paperwork done. Ben was setting the pace, so it was up to him to take the initiative if they were going to move things along. But the joy in Ben’s beaming smile was enough evidence Bull hadn’t pushed too hard or fast.
“Wait a minute,” Ben signed and then paused, his smile faltering. “Is this a…friend-only date?”
Bull cocked his head. “No. It’s a date.”
“Are you going to kiss me at the end?”