by Lissa Manley
Then Grace’s gaze fell on the mess the mixer had made on both the counter and Ally and Drew. She blinked. “Oh, dear. Looks like the mixer got away from you two.”
Along with Ally’s good sense. She cleared her throat and hoped her blush wasn’t too noticeable, though given how hot her face was, they might need to call the fire department again. Oh…wait. The friendly local fireman was already here….
“I’m so sorry.” Ally pointed to the mess. “I’ll clean it up.”
“Oh, no worries,” Grace said as she got a rag out of a drawer next to the sink. “Nothing that a little spray cleaner won’t take care of.”
Ally looked at Drew, noting the brown flour dust coating him, and couldn’t suppress a giggle. “And a washing machine.”
“I’m cleaner than you,” Drew said, flicking at her face, his finger coming away with a bit of brownie batter. “Being taller, I was out of spray range.”
“But you’re wearing a white dress shirt, and I’m not,” Ally said, nodding toward the brown-tinged front of his shirt.
He looked down. “Oh.” The dismayed look on his face was priceless.
“Yeah. You’re a mess,” Ally said, pointing at his shirt. “A chocolate mess.”
He ran a finger through her hair. “You’re a double-chocolate mess,” he said, holding up a glob of batter. “And gooey.”
Ally touched his forearm and came away with her own clump of goo. “Ha!”
He swatted her hand playfully. “Hey, keep your dusty mitts off my brownie batter,” he said in a teasing tone.
The flirty side of Ally made an unusual appearance. “You’re not my boss,” she returned tartly, darting her hand in to swipe at more batter.
Grace broke in. “Here, you two,” she said, handing them clean rags. “If you can stop playing around, clean yourselves up while I work on the kitchen.”
Ally suppressed a grin and took a rag.
“Party pooper,” Drew said to Grace under his breath as he grabbed a rag.
“Moms are supposed to be party poopers,” Grace said. “It’s our job to keep everyone in line.”
“Oh, she’s not a party pooper at all,” Ally immediately said. Didn’t Drew know how fortunate he was to have a caring, fun-loving mom like Grace?
Drew gave her a bemused look. “I was joking.”
Ally paused in trying to get the batter dust off the front of her apron. “Oh.” Guess she’d jumped the gun in defending Grace.
“Though I appreciate your coming to my rescue.” Grace gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes, then crooked a thumb toward Drew. “This one is always giving me a hard time. I need an ally.”
Ally bounced her gaze back and forth between Grace and Drew, fascinated by their good-natured teasing.
Drew gave Grace a big hug. “Oh, come on, Mama, you know you love it.”
Ally hung her gaze on them.
Grace hugged him, patting his broad back. “You’re right, I do.” She pulled away, pointing to the brown dust now speckling her front. “Good thing I’m wearing an apron, huh?”
Drew cocked his head to the side. “Maybe I need to remedy that,” he said, then went closer to the mixer with an outstretched finger, as if he were going to dip his finger in the batter.
Grace held up a finger and shook it. “Drew Antonio Sellers, do not even think of flicking that batter on me!”
Ally widened her eyes.
Drew gave an exaggerated evil laugh, his hand suspended over the bowl of batter. “I’ll stop if you promise I can lick the bowl when you’re done.”
Ally tried to envision him actually licking the mixer bowl, wondering how that all worked.
Grace shook her head and backed up, presumably out of flicking distance. “I’m not the cook. Ask Ally.”
He turned toward Ally, pressing his face into a speculative expression. “Whaddya say?”
“Whatever you want,” she told him, inching back, not quite sure he’d actually fling batter but wanting to minimize the chances just the same. “Just keep your batter to yourself.”
He dropped his hand. “You’ve made an excellent choice,” he said, smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “If you continue to cooperate, I might just share the bowl with you.”
“I just have one question.”
“Shoot.”
“How do you actually lick that bowl?” she asked, pointing to the bowl.
His eyebrows scrunched together. “It’s just an expression.”
She blinked, then dipped her head. “So, um, you don’t actually lick it?”
“No…I use a spatula,” he said, picking one up.
“Ah,” Ally said, finally understanding the concept. “That explains it.”
He peered at her for a second. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve never licked the bowl?”
She shook her head. “Nope.” None of her “mothers” had ever had time for baking, much less “licking” the bowl afterwards. They hadn’t had time for much at all, most especially not a sullen teenager just wanting to fit in somewhere.
His eyes popped wide briefly. “Well, then you’ve missed out on a wonderful thing.”
A little pang for all that she hadn’t had growing up jabbed at her. All she could do was nod. And hope that he didn’t ask for details about her childhood. Sharing her story was hard.
“Well, in that case, let’s get these brownies mixed and in the oven, and I’ll show you how we do things when we bake in the Sellers household.”
He set the spatula down, then opened the drawer next to the dishwasher. He pulled out a dark blue apron with the word grillmaster emblazoned across the front in red block letters. As he tied it on, he said, “You game?”
She hesitated. Part of her wanted to say no. But another daring part of her—the part that was beginning to discover what she’d missed growing up in foster care—wanted to experience the things a normal family did. Like licking the bowl. And baking. And spending time together having fun.
Her plucky side won out. “I’m game. Let’s bake us some brownies, mister.”
“Great.” He rolled his sleeves up. “If we work quickly, we can get a batch of chocolate chip done before my next meeting, and we can lick that bowl, too. Nothing better than cookie dough, if you ask me.” He gave the mixer a long, appraising look. “I’m sure we can figure out how to use this thing without another mess.”
Ally looked around and noted that Grace had quietly, yet conspicuously, disappeared from the kitchen.
Ally’s palms began to sweat. She was alone with an appealing man clad in an apron, with batter on his cheek, on a mission to lick a bowl, if only he could figure out how to operate a rogue stand mixer. All for her.
She swallowed, thinking maybe she should have kept her walls up after all.
Chapter Six
Ally stirred the pot of spaghetti on the back burner while also keeping an eye on the meat sauce simmering next to it. Her gaze snagged on the veggies that needed to be cut up for the salad and on the fruit that still had to be washed and prepped. Still lots to do…
Suddenly, the sauce bubbled up just as the oven buzzer beeped, signaling that the pasta was done. Mild panic spread through her. Who would have guessed that making a meal, and having it all be ready at the same time, would be so challenging?
Grace stepped in. “Let’s turn this sauce down a bit.” She twisted the knob on the stove. “Why don’t you drain that pasta in the sink, okay?”
Ally nodded, still feeling very much the novice in the kitchen. “Okay.”
“You’re doing great cooking your first meal,” Grace commented while she stirred the sauce. “It all looks delicious.”
Ally dumped the pasta in the holey thingamabob Grace had set in the sink. “I hope it is.”
Grace had invited the whole family for Ally’s inaugural dinner, and Phoebe, Carson, Heidi and Drew were due to arrive any minute. Mr. Sellers, as usual, wasn’t expected.
Ally flung her gaze around nervously. What to do next? She wanted t
his dinner to be perfect. She laughed under her breath; it was as if she were cooking for the president rather than the Sellers family.
“I’m going to turn this sauce off. I think it’s done,” Grace said.
“Great.” Ally said, wishing she had three more hands and another brain as she looked at the fruit and veggies again. “I think I’ll chop the veggies for the salad.”
“I can help with that,” a male voice said from behind her. “I’m a great sous-chef.”
Ally turned and saw Drew standing there. Her heart bounced, and she pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh, hey, there.”
He looked as good as ever in worn jeans and a long-sleeved blue button-up shirt that set off his brown eyes just right. His hair was attractively mussed, as if he’d been outside, and in his hand he held two small bouquets of gorgeous daisies.
“For the chefs,” he said, holding the flowers up. “Your favorite, Mom.”
Ally blinked, going a bit breathless. She’d never once received flowers….
Grace stepped forward and took her bouquet. “Oh, Drew, they’re lovely.”
Ally smiled. He’d just brightened her day considerably. With the flowers, of course. “My favorite, too,” she said, taking the other bouquet. “Good choice.”
“I aim to please,” he said, rolling his sleeves up.
And he was right on target.
“I’ll get some vases from the curio in the living room for these while you two work on the salad.” Grace left the kitchen.
Drew headed to the sink and washed his hands. “So, how have you been?”
It had been three days since they’d baked together, and Ally had seen neither hide nor hair of him since, though she’d thought about him a lot. Too much, probably, given they were just two ships passing in the night, as the saying went. She enjoyed being around him and hadn’t forgotten how cute he’d looked with brownie batter all over his shirt. Or the way she’d felt when he’d had his hands on her shoulders, tugging her closer….
With her tummy fluttering, she placed the flowers on the counter and opened a plastic container of strawberries. “Pretty good, considering.” Thanks to him and Grace—and God, of course; Ally knew she could count on Him to listen to her prayers, which had been plentiful lately. “I talked to Sue again, and she’s working with the insurance company on a settlement.”
“Makes sense.” He pointed to the salad fixings. “You just want me to cut up the broccoli and mushrooms?”
“Um…yeah. That’d be good.”
“Chop or dice?” he asked.
She stared at him, noting his strong, shadowed jawline for no reason at all. “I have no idea.” Her cooking cluelessness knew no bounds.
“Small or big?” he asked.
“Small?”
He picked up the knife with a flourish. “Small it is.” Without missing a beat, he started expertly cutting up the broccoli.
“You obviously know your way around a kitchen,” she said.
“Yes.” He gave her a teasing grin, exposing straight, white teeth. “Well, except when there’s a tricky stand mixer involved.”
“Touché,” she replied, returning his smile, her gaze holding his for just a moment too long for comfort.
Feeling flustered, Ally grabbed a small knife to distract herself from Drew by cutting the tops off berries. She was careful to hold it the way Grace had taught her last night when Ally had helped her make dinner.
The utensil felt awkward in her hands, though, and as she tried to adjust the handle of the blade to work right, she wondered at the wisdom of using a sharp knife when Drew was around, making her feel as if she were all thumbs.
Taking a deep breath, she put the knife down and went over to stir the meat sauce. That should be safe enough. “So, heard anything from the fire department in Atherton?”
Drew turned. “Not yet.”
She slowly swirled the sauce. “When do you expect to find out?”
“Anytime,” he replied as he chopped, having no such trouble operating a knife. “My lease on my apartment only goes through the end of the month, so hopefully I’ll know something by then.”
“So you’re really moving?” she asked.
“That’s the plan,” he replied, keeping his eyes on his chopping. “Speaking of plans, what’s yours?”
Good question. “I’ve been asking myself that a lot in the last few days.”
“What have you decided?”
She returned to the berries and picked up the knife, determined to make another go at cutting them. “Nothing yet.” It wasn’t as if she had a lot of options at this point.
He stayed quiet for a few seconds. Then he stopped chopping and looked right at her. “I hope you don’t mind me bringing this up, but you told me you’re working with very limited resources.”
Her shoulders stiffened, and she had to put down the knife again. “Yes,” she replied hesitantly, still feeling funny sharing so much personal information. Given her traumatic history, she wasn’t used to opening up.
He stared at her, waiting, it seemed, for her to go on. She picked up a berry and examined it, then put it back. Maybe it would be okay to share her situation with him just a bit. After all, Drew and his parents had welcomed her into their home, no questions asked. She probably owed them some kind of explanation.
“I’ve been, uh, on my own for a while.” Not to mention that without a college degree it had been almost impossible for her to find a job that paid more than minimum wage. She’d been living paycheck to paycheck for years, holding down minimum-wage jobs. Some months she subsisted on peanut butter sandwiches.
“No family, then?” he asked, his voice low and gentle.
She slid a glance his way as she shook her head. He regarded her with soft eyes and obvious sincerity and concern that made her gut clench. How was she going to talk about this when she was so used to keeping everything in? She’d always been so determined to stand on her own because that’s what she’d had to do and she didn’t know any other way. “I—”
“We’re here!” a girl’s voice hollered from the front of the house.
Ally clamped her mouth shut, feeling an odd mix of relief and disappointment that shoved her even more off balance.
“We’ll talk later,” he said quietly just as a blonde girl who looked to be around twelve or thirteen ran into the kitchen.
“I heard there are dogs staying here!” she said, her voice dripping with excitement. She glanced around. “Where are they?”
“Well, hello to you, too, Heidi, Heidi Bo-bidy,” Drew said in a teasing tone. “Since when are dogs more important than me?”
The girl laughed. “Hey, Drew, Drew Bo-boo,” she said, skipping over. Without hesitation, she threw her arms around him and gave him a big hug.
Drew hugged her back, lifting her off her feet. “Whoa,” he said. “You’ve grown since the last time I saw you, Bo-bidy. Must be all that ice cream you eat at Phoebe’s store.”
Heidi giggled as he set her on her feet. “Yup. I get paid in all the ice cream I want.”
Ally couldn’t take her eyes off them, the big firefighter hugging this little blonde dynamo. She cleared her throat, focusing on the most obvious question at hand. “Bo-bidy?” she said, angling one brow up.
Heidi looked at her, smiling, her blue eyes sparkling. “It’s from a song Drew taught me.”
Ally frowned.
“You know. ‘The Name Game’ song?” He proceeded to spew out a mouthful of words that rhymed with Heidi in a singsong voice.
Heidi did the same, using Drew’s name. Both of them laughed uproariously when she was done, and then they high-fived each other.
“Good job!” Drew said. “You’ve got it down. Now let me introduce you to the very nice lady who owns those two dogs you’re so interested in seeing.”
He made the introductions, and then he and Heidi went off to drag the rest of the family into the kitchen.
As they walked away—the tall, dark, broad-shouldered man
and the short blonde girl bouncing along beside him—Ally stared at them. She simply couldn’t get over how they’d interacted. Hugging. Teasing. Cute inside jokes and songs.
She shook her head. Drew was wonderful with Heidi. Really wonderful. He was definitely worth a second look.
For anyone but Ally.
*
Drew looked out the window over the sink, trying not to make it too obvious that he was watching Ally and Heidi play with Rex and Sadie. Well, mostly he was watching Ally.
He could hear their shrieks of delight echoing through the early evening air, especially Heidi’s as she ran around and Rex jubilantly chased her, nipping at her heels and yipping in delight. Ally stood back with Sadie, laughing at Rex’s antics, her face lit up with a brilliant smile.
“They’re really having fun,” Phoebe said behind him.
He turned. “Yeah. Thanks for taking over for Ally in the kitchen so she could go out and introduce Heidi to the dogs.” Carson was down in the basement with Mom, helping her change the furnace filter. Dad wasn’t around enough to do many household chores, and hadn’t been for a while.
“Hey, no problem. Ally looked a little overwhelmed by all this,” she said, gesturing around the kitchen.
“Yeah, she’s just learning to cook.”
“That’s what Mom said.” Phoebe picked up a berry. “She seems nice.”
“Yup,” Drew said before he went to the fridge to get the salad dressing out.
“Pretty, too.” Phoebe’s voice oozed casualness that made her question far from actually being casual.
Oh, boy. Here came the interrogation. “That, too.”
“Single, right?”
“Yep.” He put the salad and the dressing on the counter to be taken in to the dining room.
“Obviously compassionate, if she rescues homeless dogs.”
“Guess so.”
“She looks to be about your age.”
“Not sure.”
Phoebe looked out the window at Heidi and Ally. “She seems to like kids.”
“Looks that way.”
Dead silence.
Drew finally rolled his eyes as he grabbed the salad. “Why don’t you go ahead and say it.”