Page 41 of Never Let You Go

While we take our seats, I snap pictures of the breadbasket at the center of the table, contrasting with the colorful dishes. My phone buzzes, again. Voldemort. I send it to voice mail, again. Less than a minute later, the voice mail tone chirps. I set the phone on silent.

“Do I need to cast a spell?” Christopher smirks when my phone screen lights up with the same nickname.

I take the phone to the kitchen counter and set it screen down. “No,” I admit softly. “It’s the office in New York. But there’s nothing they can do to me while I’m here, so…”

“So…not answering?” Christopher says.

“That’s right.”

“What could they possibly want from you?” Grace frowns.

“It’s nothing… It’s just… work-related.”

Christopher sets his fork down with a loud clank. “They can’t have you working for them while you’re here with me.”

The heat coming from him electrifies my veins. I hold on to his gaze as if he’s some kind of buoy. “I’m not working. It’s—It’s complicated. It’s about what I’ll be doing when I go back.”

He frowns.

“When do you go back, again?” Grace asks.

“In less than six months,” Skye answers. “That’s in a loooong time.”

Christopher grunts.

“And they’re already bothering you with what you’ll be doing when you get back?” Grace asks.

“Yeah. My boss.”

“He’s not your boss as long as you’re with me,” Christopher cuts in.

As long as you’re with me. My spine tingles. “That’s why I’m not picking up his calls,” I breathe.

Christopher grunts again—something that sounds like “good.”

Grace’s eyes dance between the two of us. “How’s the apprenticeship going?”

I wipe my mouth. “So far, so good? I guess? The theory is okay, not too hard to memorize.” I take a sip of wine and glance nervously at Christopher. “It’s the practice. I’m such a klutz. It’s like I have two left hands. I don’t know.”

“It’ll take time,” Grace says.

“You care about what you do, and the dough senses it,” Christopher cuts in.

The dough what?

“The dough is a breathing, living thing,” he continues. “When the baker is in a bad mood, or doesn’t care, the dough senses it. Just like a pet. It feels your intention and reacts to it.” He drills his gaze into mine. “You are a caring person. You’ll never totally screw up your baking.”

I reach for my glass for composure, my eyes unable to leave his. The back of my hand hits the stem, the glass tilts away, and Christopher’s hand wraps around mine and the glass. “See?” I breathe, my cheeks ablaze.

He gives my hand a squeeze. “You just need to gain confidence. And, sometimes, you’ll need the right person next to you at the right time.”

He brushes his thumb inside my wrist before removing his hand.

Heat zings to my center.

And confidence sweeps through me as well.

“Nice catch, Daddy!” Skye giggles. Thank god she’s oblivious to the subtext between us.

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