Page 34 of The Sweetest Ingredient

Lucia scoffed. “You want to make pet food for humans?”

“Um, no. I’m thinking we could expand our clientele and attract more customers, like dogs. I’m going to make a batch.”

She rolled her eyes. “Can’t wait to see the boss’s reaction to this.” Lucia speared me with a narrowed stare. “Where did you work before?”

I swallowed. “Oh, uh...actually, I never worked at another bakery. I’m more of a freelance baker.”

Lucia’s lips tightened. “Freelance?”

“Yep. Just me, my apron, and a dream.”

“Right.” Lucia looked unconvinced. She stomped into Bishop’s office and shut the door.

Five minutes later, Bishop swaggered into the kitchen, his expression stern. “What’re you doing, Kenzi?”

My mouth dried. “Making yummy pet desserts?”

Bishop pursed his lips. “This isn’t what I pay you for, Kenzi.”

From behind him, Lucia’s snicker turned into a barely concealed cackle. She had ratted me out and was enjoying my discomfort.

I tugged at my apron strings. “But it might bring in more business.”

“Do you think I’m running a pet store? Stick to the menu,” he replied gruffly.

The deep timbre of Bishop’s severe tone made my stomach drop into my sneakers. My internal ‘Fraud Alert’ siren flashed like a neon sign above my head because I was less of a baker and more of a...well, faker.

And yet, I blurted, “It’s called diversifying the portfolio, Bishop. Ever heard of it?”

He feigned surprise. “Yes, but we only do traditional recipes in my bakery. Should we venture into cat toys next?”

“Only if we can make them edible.” I shrugged. “We can reel customers in with goodies for their pets and then dazzle them with our main menu.”

Lucia reorganized the spice rack near me to eavesdrop.

Bishop rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I don’t think so.”

“Please? Let me make one batch,” I pleaded. “It’s my…my dream to create my own brand of pet delicacies. Plus, Maxwell doesn’t offer them. We could be more innovative than him.”

We stared at each other in tense silence. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, and the oven groused.

“Fine.” He waved a hand, relenting. “On a trial basis only, and if it doesn’t work, you have to drop it.”

“Okay! Yes, no problem. Thank you,” I rambled.

My heart felt lighter. I couldn’t believe he gave in. It was like George Knightley of Emma agreeing to wear skinny jeans. Stranger things have happened, right?

Gathering the necessary ingredients, I carefully followed my grandma’s formula, adding a pinch of this and a dash of that, feeling her presence in every ingredient that I measured. The delicious aroma of peanut butter and oats enveloped me.

As I mixed everything, my passion and creativity shined through with each stir. This time, I was determined to get the recipe just right. Bishop may rarely laugh or offer a real smile, but I was going to turn his frown upside down with these pet treats.

Lucia watched me from the corner of her eye, but held her tongue.

“Here goes nothing.” I slid the tray into the oven.

When the timer dinged, I pulled the golden-brown biscuits from the oven.

Bishop exited his office. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” He examined the bone-shaped treats and nodded. “We can try them out today, but I won’t make any promises.”

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