As Good as the First Time

by K. M. Jackson

  Oh gosh, she didn’t know if she’d ever get over the mortification. First the ants, then crashing into him like some klutz, and then getting leftover pie juice smashed between the both of them. Now the topper, getting caught ogling the man changing out of his pie-stained shirt like some desperate overly hormonal spinster! The thought made Liv want to spend some time beating herself over the head with a rolling pin until her senses came back.

  But goodness, that view was something else. She recalled thinking about how she pushed back from Clayton’s grasp with a quick apology and talked about going to change. Once in her room and looking over her stained dress, she was over the idea of trying to look pretty, and she decided laid-back and comfortable was the way to go as she grabbed a pair of denim shorts and a white tank top. Going to close the curtain in her room, Liv thought about the days she used to glimpse out and see Clayton at his window. What a foolish young girl she had been. But back then just a glimpse of him would make her so happy. Sometimes he’d wave, then they would talk on the phone as if they hadn’t spent most of the day together already. With a sigh, she went to pull the curtain shut and just about darn near passed out.

  Whoa, talk about some things changing. Clayton Morris truly had changed. Liv swallowed down hard at the sudden buildup of saliva as she blinked and saw the vision of Clayton live and in color as he pulled over his head the cherry-stained T-shirt that he had been wearing. She clutched at the curtain’s edge as the world seemed to suddenly tilt, taking Liv off her very axis as inch by glorious inch, one muscular pack of his six-pack—or it could be eight-pack—abs were revealed to her like some decadent, just out of reach, look-but-you-can’t-touch temptation show. Where did a man get abs like that? Did he live in a permanent core flex or something? Liv’s mind boggled as she continued to brazenly stare as if she were studying him like some sort of science before-and-after subject. Having the nerve to watch, she found her eyes following the T-shirt on its ascent as it revealed more of Clayton’s glorious skin, up his chest, until finally the tee came over his impossibly wide shoulders. She watched the opening as it grazed his cheeks, catching on his slight chin stubble for just a moment, and then it slipped over his head.

  Liv let out a breath then, one she didn’t know she had been holding. She was just about to step back and move out of view when she looked up once again and Clayton leaned forward, his eyes connecting with hers dead-on, a devilish grin on that handsome face of his.

  Oh god, no!

  Stepping back, Liv shut her curtain tight. She quickly pulled on her change of clothes and headed downstairs, vowing that that would be the last time she watched Clayton Morris change from her bedroom window like a desperate not-quite housewife Peeping Tom.

  * * *

  “Earth to Livy. Earth to Livy.”

  “I swear I don’t know what’s with this girl this morning. Usually it’s you who I have to get on about focusing, Drea. There is too much work to be done today for this lollygagging.” It wasn’t Aunt Joyce’s words that brought Liv back to the present, but it was a clap combined with the flour that wafted around her as if sugar fairies were suddenly making snow that brought things back into semisharp focus.

  But there were no fairies, only a not-so-pleased-looking Aunt Joyce, who looked poised to clap again, her floured hands at the ready in front of Liv’s face. Liv blinked and gave her head a good shake, focusing on her aunt. “Really, lady, was that entirely necessary?”

  Aunt Joyce gave her a raised brow from the other side of the worktable. “It would seem it was. We’ve got about five dozen biscuits to get done this morning, and I don’t have time for either of you girls to have your head in the clouds. Rena just sent a text saying she won’t be in today. Her youngest is sick with a bug, so I need all four of your hands and your two heads on deck. We’ve got work to do.”

  Liv gave a nod and cleared her throat. “Yes, ma’am,” she said. “I’m sorry about that. I’m here, ready to work and ready to focus.”

  Aunt Joyce gave her a nod back. “All right then. Good. I’m not saying you have to be a total worker bee. It’s not like I’m running a sweatshop. I just want you to pay attention when it comes to these biscuits.”

  Liv tried to hold back her smile, but it was hard. She loved it when Aunt Joyce got all passionate about her baked goods. Most people would probably get upset, but Liv knew it was only because she wanted to serve her customers the very best. That she truly cared and took pride in her work and what she was presenting. She could appreciate and admire that. Besides, when Aunt Joyce got this way, you were bound to learn something good.

  “Now,” Aunt Joyce continued, “we got to have us an assembly line going. Especially when it comes to these honey biscuits. If these aren’t done perfectly and on time, it will taste like you’re chewing on a cement puck. And I will not tolerate cement pucks coming out of my place.” She looked over at Drea, who was attempting to knead dough, and her expression turned grave. “Lordy, girl. How many times do I have to tell you? You’ve gotta put your back into it! You have to show it who’s boss. The way you’re rubbing it, you’d think you were angling for a proposal. Well, that’s no way to treat dough or a man.”

  Drea pulled a shocked face. “Aunt Joyce!”

  “What? Just because I’m old don’t mean I’m dead. And don’t think I don’t just know my way around the kitchen.”

  Liv and Drea looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

  “What?” Aunt Joyce said. “I don’t see anything funny. You’d better get on that dough the right way, gal.”

  Drea let out a sigh, sobering up, and looked back at Aunt Joyce. “I am rubbing at it hard, Aunt Joyce. This dough is tough. I’m doing the best I can.”

  Aunt Joyce shook her head. “Girl, you call that tough? We haven’t even added all the ingredients yet. Maybe your arms need a little building up. I thought everybody in New York took some form of kickboxing or something like that. Didn’t y’all have to take some kind of martial arts class in order to ride the subways?”

  Liv shook her head. “That’s not right, Aunt Joyce; don’t use tired stereotypes about how tough New York is to try to get weakling Drea here to knead your dough harder.”

  “Yeah,” Drea said before she thought about what Liv had really said, and then she gave her sister a confused look. “Wait. What do you mean weakling Drea? I’m no weakling. This dough is tough. Why can’t we use one of those two big electric mixers over there.”

  Aunt Joyce gave her a look as if she’d just committed blasphemy in the sanctuary. “Because those mixers are for other things. And not my hand-kneaded honey biscuits, that’s why. My hand-kneaded honey biscuits are called hand-kneaded honey biscuits because they are just that. Hand-kneaded, and with love, mind you. Like I always say, food always tastes good when it’s cooked with love.”

  Drea gave her a shrug. “Well, I guess my food won’t ever taste good, because I don’t love to cook.”

  Aunt Joyce let out an exasperated sigh. “Bless her heart. What am I going to do with this child?” she said to the ceiling, the Lord, the universe in general, and then turned back to Drea and gave her a sweet, though quite menacing in its own way, smile. “Well, it’s a good thing you have many other talents, dear. God don’t put us on this earth without giving us talents. Yours will show themselves”—she paused, then added—“in time I’m sure. Now, head on over and start pulling out the ingredients we need, and let your sister do the dough.”

  Drea walked over to the pantry to gather the other ingredients. She paused after the butter and turned toward Aunt Joyce. “Wait, what ingredients are we going to need?”

  Once again Aunt Joyce sighed, in that moment probably rethinking the sister’s invitation and no doubt her initial trip up on the roof that got her into her predicament. “I’m gonna shout them out. You just prepare to pull ’em.”

  She then turned toward Liv and pointed her finger. “Okay, looks like we’re shifting and you’re up for double duty. How about you take some of
those musings of yours out on the dough, and while you’re at it add in the butter, sugar, and a pinch of salt. The honey will come later.”

  Try as she might, Liv couldn’t get mad over the bit of chaos. It felt good having her hands moving, squishing in and out of the dough. Putting all her strength into something that would make people happy as well as nourish them. The rolling, then the precise measuring and laying them out for the oven. There was a clear satisfaction to it that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Made all the better when she would look up and see her aunt and her sister right along with her.

  * * *

  “These came out delicious, baby!”

  It was just before opening and Liv couldn’t help feeling pride over Aunt Joyce’s rave review over her batches of biscuits. In the end, she had given her a little more leeway over making them. And though Liv hadn’t totally made them on her own, the fact that they were mostly by her hand made her feel pretty good.

  “She’s right, these are okay, almost as good as Aunt Joyce’s. Give you a little more time and you’ll be there, big sis,” Drea said, finishing her own biscuit before downing it with the rest of her green tea.

  Liv felt her lips tighten at Drea’s backhanded compliment, but she’d take it anyway. Drea hadn’t had the best of mornings, having been essentially shooed away from any sort of real baking by Aunt Joyce after her full-on display of lack of skills in the kitchen. But Liv had to give her credit for squeezing those lemons for all they were worth. In the short morning prep time, her sister had tidied up the pantry, then gone out and fixed up the counter and even rearranged the tables in a more pleasing manner. The best was that she took it upon herself to take down the old, worn curtains that had seen better days, pulled the old blinds all the way up so that the natural light from the street came in, and washed the front windows down so the whole place took on a new, bright cast as the morning sun started to stream in.

  “I think it looks great, Drea,” Aunt Joyce said. “Though I would’ve appreciated it if you’d asked me before taking down my curtains.”

  “I’m sure you would have, Aunt Joyce, and I’m sorry about that,” Drea said to her as she put down her teacup and then wiped down where it had been on the counter, then went to put the cup in the sink in the back. “But I couldn’t risk your telling me no. Those old curtains had to go. Now, if you don’t think I’m overstepping, I’d like those blinds to come down too. Maybe we can get that Errol of yours to come on in here and do that. I’ve got a few more ideas about changing the decor if you’re open. I’m not much help in the kitchen. I might as well do something with my time while I’m here.”

  Liv took in Aunt Joyce’s serious expression. She could tell that though she was a little put out, she still appreciated Drea’s initiative, and Liv also could tell she liked that Drea had showed some real interest in the shop. But there was a part of it that gave Liv pause. She didn’t want Drea giving Aunt Joyce false hope. They were only there for a short amount of time. They had already been there for a week and Liv could tell Aunt Joyce was clearly on the mend. She was starting physical therapy and would be her old self fairly soon.

  Was it fair to talk about improvements on the shop and get her invested without leaving support in place? If they were going to really help out here, they’d have to do more than just making the shop look better. Liv would have to talk to Rena about getting Aunt Joyce more help for the future. Maybe she should just put Drea off this idea about improvements?

  She had to figure out a way to balance helping Aunt Joyce with the shop and getting on with her job search. Before she knew it, she’d have to head back to New York and get on with her own life, and she supposed Drea would have to do the same. “You did good, Drea. Everything already looks much brighter and cheerier, and I think doing a little something with the tables was a good idea too, but I’m not sure about bigger improvements. I’m not sure Aunt Joyce can handle much more new business. I mean, it’s not like we’re staying on to help her.”

  Liv knew immediately that she’d overstepped when she saw the stiffening of Aunt Joyce’s back. Not to mention how quickly Aunt Joyce whirled around toward her. “Who said anything about you having to stay on to help, missy?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I wasn’t trying to upset you, I just didn’t want Drea to do too much and put more pressure on you when you didn’t need it.”

  “Well, don’t presume to know what I need or don’t need. I know I called you for help, and I do appreciate it.” Aunt Joyce softened her tone, but only slightly. In that moment, reminding Liv of her own mother and even a bit of herself. She could see every bit of the Goode temper rising up. “I think your sister has wonderful ideas, and I fully support them. Now, as to how they are worked out for the future, well, I for one will let the future handle itself. It all works out in the end. I have no worry about that. And you shouldn’t either. Maybe that’s your problem. You think too far ahead for other people when you shouldn’t.”

  “Amen to that, Aunt Joyce.” Drea was quick to chime in. “I’ve been telling her that for the longest time.”

  “Don’t use this as an excuse to dump on me just because you don’t have your life together.”

  Drea rolled her eyes. “Oh boy, here we go. The queen of deflection deflects again. I’m just gonna leave you to it and to yourself.” She turned back toward Aunt Joyce and smiled. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Aunt Joyce, and for being able to have the vision to keep your mind in the present instead of focused on ridiculous worries that you have no control over . . . or for staying stuck on the mistakes of the past.” And with that, of course, Drea couldn’t help but give a slick little side-eye toward Liv once again.

  “Well, look at mister fancy over there,” Aunt Joyce said, shifting the subject and bringing their attention to Brent, who was across the street with a couple of men in khakis and polo shirts with blazers. “He’s out early too. I guess he’s taking this real estate thing seriously. Those must be clients of his. I do hope he’s getting his life together. Kath will be happy if he finally settles into something.”

  Liv frowned, remembering their conversation at the barbecue. “I’m sure. I wonder what property he’s listing, or if he’s just showing them the town. They seem pretty interested in this area,” she said, noting how they were taking in the bakeshop and the surrounding storefronts from their vantage point across the street. When Brent noticed them watching him, he waved, and they waved back. Then he shuffled his clients farther down the block.

  As quickly as Brent disappeared from view, Clayton appeared, walking into the shop looking like spring after a long winter.

  “We’re not quite open yet,” Liv said without thinking, her voice sharper than it probably should’ve been.

  “So this is how you’re going to help me keep my business under control, missy?” Aunt Joyce hissed from by her side.

  “Well, it’s seven-thirty, and when I peeped in and saw you were all here at the counter and the door was unlocked, I took it upon myself to come in and say good morning. I hope that’s not a problem, ladies.”

  Liv wanted to growl and at the same time she felt the heat of embarrassment as it rode up from her toes and wrapped around her body until it got to the top of her head. Why did he have to go and say something about peeking in? She looked up at him, expecting to see laughter in his eyes. A gotcha over her embarrassing Peeping Tom situation from the barbecue. She’d successfully avoided him by staying on opposite ends of the lawn and in totally separate spaces for the rest of the day after the incident. But still, for most of the rest of the afternoon, even though she would take peeks and not see him looking, she could still feel the heat of his gaze and his judgment. Had she ever been more embarrassed in her life? Probably not. Maybe not. Definitely not.

  “Of course, you’re always welcome, Clayton,” Aunt Joyce said.

  “And here, you’ve got to try one of this morning’s honey biscuits. They are straight out of the oven. Liv made this batch
herself and, if I do say so, she did an excellent job. Despite her lack of manners.”

  Clayton gave Liv a smile and a tilt of his head. “Made with your very own hand, huh? Well then, I definitely won’t refuse.”

  Liv fought to stay neutral. It wouldn’t do to be anything but kind. Besides, she’d already proven herself a bubbling idiot by bumping into him and smashing cherry pie on his shirt. She needed to once and for all show some type of smoothness in front of this man. “I’ve got a few skills in the kitchen,” Liv said, hoping she came off somewhere near Cool Town and not Dork Street. She caught a smirk from Drea and decided she probably got caught up somewhere on Geek Way. But then Clayton took one of her biscuits and put it to his mouth. He spread those deliciously full lips wide to take a bite.

  He proceeded to chew, his closed-mouth smile causing his dimples to pop and creases to form in the corners of his eyes. Liv wanted to kick herself over the blossoming feeling of joy that came over her. Darn! She was not supposed to care about how Clayton felt about her freaking cooking. She let go of a breath. Maybe Clayton’s feelings had nothing to do with it. Maybe she was just happy because somebody felt her biscuits tasted good.

  “Just delicious,” he said, looking Liv straight in the eye. “These are really good. You do have some skills, and here I was thinking you are just a pretty face and a brain. But then again, I should have known about your hidden talents, Livia.”

  Why did everything Clayton Morris say send her half into a tailspin? Thankfully, he turned toward Aunt Joyce. “Superb culinary skills must run in the family.”

  Liv inwardly shivered. The man should never say the word culinary again.

  Drea snorted. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  Clayton turned her way. “Oh really?”

  “It would seem I wasn’t so blessed, but that’s okay, I’m not crying about it.” She put her arm around Liv’s shoulder and brought her back to reality. “I’ve got my own talents and my sister has hers, and as you can see, she uses it well.”