Delicious Temptation

by Sabrina Sol

  Chapter Fourteen

  Eric propped the sheet of drywall against the new granite countertop he’d already covered with a tarp. He looked around and checked off the list of prep steps in his head. Everything was ready and in place to replace the drywall in the bakery’s kitchen. Now he just needed Miguel to show up so he could get started.

  He checked his watch again. Fifteen minutes past six. The bakery had been closed for more than an hour and he still hadn’t done a thing.

  Where was Miguel, and why hadn’t he called?

  Apparently none of the Robles siblings knew how to use a phone today.

  He’d been waiting for a call or a text from Amara since that afternoon to let him know how the meeting with her parents went. No news didn’t necessarily mean good news. At first he was worried, but then as the minutes grew into hours, he became irritated. He knew it was silly to expect that he’d be the first on her list to call either way it went. But didn’t he at least rate in the top five?

  Maybe the news was good, and she and her family were out celebrating right now?

  Eric stomped over to his tool bag and pulled out his phone. A black screen met his glare. He pushed buttons, but nothing happened. Nothing was going to happen. His phone had died and he’d left his charger back at the house.

  Son of a bitch.

  His anger diminished slightly. Perhaps Amara or Miguel had tried to call him after all. He shoved his phone into his back pocket and looked around for a paper and something to write with. It would only take him about ten minutes to run home and come back, but he didn’t want to chance Miguel showing up and thinking he was the one who had bailed.

  Eric walked to the front of the bakery in search of something he could write a note on, but before he got to the cash register, he heard a key turning the lock on the front door.

  Instead of Miguel appearing on the other side, Amara poked her head in and met his eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” He didn’t mean to blurt it out but she’d surprised him.

  “I came to find out why you’re not answering your phone or the bakery’s phone. Miguel says he’s been trying to call you for the past forty-five minutes.”

  “Oh. Yeah, sorry. I just realized my cell is dead. I was going to run to the house and get my charger.”

  “What about the bakery’s phone? Miguel says it just rings and rings and rings.”

  “I unplugged it. We were going to be working on the kitchen walls tonight and the wires from the phone in there were in the way.”

  She walked inside and he pulled her against him for a kiss. All of the frustration he’d felt earlier melted away in her arms. He noticed, though, that something was off about her. He ended the kiss and asked the question he had a feeling he already knew the answer to. “How did it go with your parents?”

  “Not good, of course. You can still work on the remodel, though, so at least I didn’t screw that up.” She wrapped her arms around herself, and his chest ached at how defeated she looked. “Anyway, I didn’t come over here to talk about them. I came to tell you that Miguel can’t make it tonight after all. Something happened on a job site today and he had to drive all the way to San Diego. He thought he’d be back in time but his boss is making him stay overnight. He says he won’t be able to come help you until Friday after work.”

  He wanted to press her for details about her parents, but now he had another problem. “Friday? Well, that kind of sucks.”

  “Why? What’s the problem?

  “He was going to hold the drywall sheets in place while I screwed them into the studs. I usually rent a lift if I’m going to do it by myself. Guess now I have to wait to do it until Friday. That means I’ll be behind schedule a few days.”

  “Sorry, Eric,” she said, and reached out to touch his shoulder

  “It’s fine, really. I’ll just work Saturday night and all day Sunday to catch up.”

  “But that would mean you’d be working for twenty-four hours straight.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve done it before. Besides I have no other choice. I don’t want to cost you guys any extra money if I fall behind.”

  “Then you do have a choice after all. I can stay and help you.”

  “Help me hang the drywall? No way.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you don’t know how.”

  “You said you just need someone to hold it up for you, right? I think I’m perfectly capable of doing that.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think I could handle seeing you handle my power tools, And, beautiful, you’d be too much of a distraction. Besides, don’t you have to be back here again at four in the morning?”

  “As long as I get to sleep by eleven, I’ll be fine. That gives us about four hours. Will that be enough time?”

  “I don’t know, Amara. I don’t think your parents would like it very much if they found out you were helping me.”

  “Why? Miguel helps you all the time. What’s the difference?”

  “Uh, I think we both know the difference.”

  “I’m a big girl. I can go out at night by myself. As long as I tell them I’m staying out and I have my keys, they’ll go to bed and not think twice about me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. Let me call my mom first and then we can get started.”

  For the next three hours, Amara and Eric worked side by side installing sheets of drywall. He’d even let her screw in a couple of the sheets herself. They didn’t do much chitchatting, since they were focused on getting the project done before Amara had to leave, and it was obvious to him that the meeting with her parents still weighed heavily on her mind.

  Because she’d been so quiet, he hadn’t been as distracted as he thought he’d be.

  Fine. He’d been distracted a few times. Like when he got a closeup view of her ass as she climbed up his ladder.

  “Are you sure I’m doing it right?” she called down to him. “Wait. Were you staring at my butt just now?”

  He jerked his head in the opposite direction. “No. Of course not.”

  “Of course you weren’t.” He could hear the smile behind her words and he grinned, too. The mood instantly lightened between them.

  When she finished, he held the ladder for her as she made her way back down toward solid ground. But she stopped at the last rung, which made her just a few inches taller than him.

  “It’s a good thing that you weren’t staring at my butt earlier.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I’m not going to stare at yours while you pack up all this stuff.”

  He laughed and grabbed her off the ladder, then spun her around once and set her down to give her a quick kiss. They worked together to fold up the tarps. As she focused intently on making sure the corner of each tarp folded over onto each other exactly, he couldn’t help but notice how nice it had been to have her there. And they hadn’t even had sex.

  He’d never met anyone so generous, so selfless, so beautiful on the inside and out. She’d stayed to help him even though hanging drywall was the probably the last thing she’d wanted to do after dealing with her parents. Still, she’d pushed through without complaining once. She was definitely a trooper, and he hated to see her so deflated. He wanted to make it all better. But how?

  He took the folded tarp from her then grabbed her hand. “So, are you ready to talk about what happened with your parents? Is everything okay?”

  She nodded, but he could see the weariness behind it. The urge to take her into his arms and soothe her worries revved up inside him. “It’s fine,” she said, and sighed. “I should’ve known they’d never go for it.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “What always happens. They don’t trust me with the bakery because of that stupid cupcake shop fiasco. I get it, I do. But at some point they’re going to have realize that I’m their only hope, right? Or maybe I just need to accept the fact that it’s never going to happen and eventually th
e bakery will close and I’ll have to get a job decorating cakes at the supermarket.”

  “Don’t think like that. You can’t give up, not yet.”

  “Then when? I’m serious, Eric. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother trying for something that I know is such a long shot.”

  Her sense of defeat pained him. He was usually the negative one, not her. There had to be a way for him to show her that all was not lost.

  “Stop being so hard on yourself,” he said, and pulled her into his arms. “You convinced them to let me finish the remodel, and that’s huge.”

  She nodded with a tired smile. “Honestly, it was more Miguel than me. I guess you two are back to being friends?”

  “Yeah, things are cool.” But only because he doesn’t know about us.

  “Good, I’m glad,” she said with a yawn. “Okay, I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

  “Yeah, it’s getting late. You should go home and get to bed.” Although he hated to, he released her.

  But she didn’t move. He smiled at her, but stopped when he realized she wasn’t smiling back. Instead, her brow furrowed and she bit her lip. She looked serious, determined even. His heart beat faster, and he swallowed hard as he waited for her to say whatever was on her mind.

  “Despite being disappointed about everything else, I am glad you’re going to be sticking around for awhile. I know we’re trying to keep things, um, casual between us, so is that okay that I said that?”

  It was only a whisper, yet it reverberated through his whole body. The invisible chains that had kept him from letting her know what she did to him or what she was beginning to mean to him fell down around his ankles. He couldn’t lie to her now if he tried.

  “I don’t know,” he whispered back. “Is it okay for me to say I’m glad that I get to be around you some more, too?”

  The slow smile on her face stopped his heart. “Yes, that’s definitely okay. That’s great, even.”

  He could tell she meant the words, and that surprised him. But before he could say anything else, she turned and walked out of the bakery, her hips swaying back and forth like a pendulum, hypnotizing him, so he couldn’t even think of going after her. Because if he’d caught her, he’d want to lay more than just drywall.

  And it wasn’t until much later that he realized that swaying had been deliberate, even exaggerated.

  His laugh bellowed throughout the empty bakery.

  Amara Robles had made damn sure he’d watch her ass as she left.

  Chapter Fifteen

  There was nothing more depressing than a rainy day in Los Angeles.

  Especially when the gray, gloomy skies matched your already miserable mood.

  Amara attempted a smile when thanking the man who bought three dollars worth of pan dulce, but stopped trying when he grumbled back some unintelligible response.

  Yep, the rain made everyone a sour puss.

  Her stomach rumbled and reminded her it was time for lunch. She thought about texting Daisy to bring her a sandwich when she came in later, but decided against it. It was too cold for a sandwich. She was too sad for a sandwich. What she needed was something warm and full of carbs and calories. She needed comfort food.

  Amara looked around the bakery. There were definitely carbs and calories galore, yet, nothing she’d made sounded good. Her eyes roamed the shop one more time until they stayed on the container filled with rolls.

  Capirotada.

  Her mouth salivated just at the thought of her homemade Mexican bread pudding. She did a quick mental inventory of the pantry and thanked God that she had what she needed to make one special batch just for herself.

  Two hours later, it was ready.

  This time her smile came naturally. Amara looked down at the first piece she’d just served herself and noted that although it looked like a jumbled mess, it smelled intoxicating. It was a sweet, spicy aroma that screamed holidays with family, cozy evenings by the fireplace and all the things that had ever made her feel warm and happy. She cut into the dessert with her fork and took a bite. Melted, salty butter and cheddar cheese mingled with a sweet syrup made from piloncillo, cinnamon, and cloves. The mixture coated raisins, pecans, and warm, mushy pieces of day-old bolillo rolls. Capirotada had always reminded her of a rustic French toast casserole, but the addition of the dried fruit and other components made it more like a bread pudding. It was both sweet and savory, decadent and nourishing.

  It was the perfect comfort food.

  She took another bite just as Daisy walked through the front door. Her cousin stopped, turned up her nose, and took a deep whiff.

  “Do I smell capirotada?” she asked, looking around.

  “Maybe,” Amara answered with her mouth still full.

  Daisy walked over to her and spotted the small casserole dish on the counter. She raised her eyebrows. “But it’s not Friday. I thought you only made capirotada on Fridays so you could use the stale rolls that didn’t sell during the week?”

  “I needed it. It’s been a helluva week.”

  “It’s only Wednesday.”

  Amara popped another piece into her mouth. “Exactly.”

  “Hey,” Daisy said. “Don’t eat all of it. I want some, too.”

  Her cousin helped herself to a serving and moaned around her first mouthful. “Oh. My. God. It’s still warm, and the cheese is all gooey. I always think the cheese doesn’t belong when I watch you make it, but then I take a bite and it’s perfect.”

  “It’s really no different from adding fruit to cottage cheese—the sweet goes with the salty,” Amara explained, and dug in for another bite. “You know some people actually make apple pies with cheddar cheese, too? It looks and sounds off, but it works.”

  The two of them polished off half of the casserole dish. “Our abuela was the one who taught me how to make capirotada,” Amara said. “Every now and then, I think of ways to tweak the recipe, make it more sophisticated, but I never end up doing it because this is one of those foods that’s more about tradition than style. When I make it like she used to, I feel close to her. It makes me happy, no matter what’s going on in my life at the time.”

  Daisy nodded. “Ah. So this was a I’m-depressed-because-my-parents-shot-down-my-bakery-ideas-again capirotada?”

  “You could say that.”

  Her cousin gave her a side hug. “I’m sorry, Amara. I wish I could’ve said something or done something to change their mind.”

  “I know you do. But I don’t think there’s anything—”

  Amara stopped mid-sentence as her dad opened the bakery’s front door, looking stiff and uncomfortable. He walked over to the counter and nodded once.

  Although it wasn’t unusual for him to stop by, she hadn’t been prepared for the stomach flop his unexpected visit caused. She hoped he didn’t want to talk again about what happened. No matter how happy her abuela’s capirotada made her, she wasn’t sure it would be enough.

  “Hey Dad, what’s going on? Did you need something?”

  “Well, not really. I just needed to talk to you about something.”

  “I’ll go find something to do in the kitchen,” Daisy said, and started to back away.

  “No, Daisy. You stay. This affects you, too.”

  Amara’s stomach flopped again, then flipped. Now what?

  Her dad cleared his throat and braced himself on the counter with both hands. “Your mother and I have changed our minds about the bakery.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Really?” Hope welled inside her heart, but she knew to push it down until she heard everything he had to say first.

  “We decided we are going to let you go ahead with your plans for the remodel and new menu, but we’re still not selling the bakery to you.”

  “Then how are you going to pay for everything?”

  “I spoke to Mr. Montoya and we signed an agreement today. His first deposit should cover the costs of the rest of the remodel and some of the other things you wanted to do.”

&nbs
p; Amara gasped. “You talked to Brandon?”

  “I did. He seems like a smart young man with good business sense. I trust him.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Daisy moving side to side, obviously trying to contain her excitement. And while Amara was just as excited, the idea that her parents trusted Brandon more than her stung.

  Why couldn’t they trust her the same way?

  Just be happy that you’re getting to bake what you want to bake again.

  She was happy. Thrilled even. And to show it, she ran around the counter and hugged her dad. Daisy squealed and ran to hug him on his other side—making him the middle of their giddy girl sandwich.

  He managed to wiggle out of their clutches eventually, and Amara calmed down enough to tell him, “Thank you, Dad. This means a lot and I promise I won’t let you down again.”

  “De nada. Just remember that this isn’t a pass to go crazy and change everything. I still own this bakery so I need to be involved with the decisions, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “And I guess when I get back home I’ll call Eric to let him know.”

  Amara’s spirit deflated a little. She wanted to be the one to tell Eric. “I’ll tell him,” she blurted. “That way I can go over the plans again. He’s supposed to stop by later to drop off some, um, supplies.”

  “Fine, you do it. We’ll talk about everything else tonight after dinner. Your mother is going to want you to…is that capirotada?” He walked back to the counter and bent to smell the casserole dish.

  “It is,” Amara said with a smile.

  “But it’s not Friday.”

  “I know. I just felt like making it today. You can take the rest home if you want. Daisy and I already ate too much of it.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Daisy said.

  “Well, we already had lunch and your mom is taking a nap. I guess I can take it and we can have it later for dessert.”

  “Sure, Dad. Go ahead.”

  Her dad picked up the casserole dish and started to walk toward the door. She covered her mouth to stifle a giggle, though, when he hesitated then came back to grab one of the forks from the plates still on the counter. When he left, she noticed he didn’t cross the street toward their house, but instead turned right and continued walking down the sidewalk. She estimated it would take him about ten minutes to finish what was left in the casserole before going back home.