Page 20 of Summer with the Single Dad

Her mouth twitched, but she stowed her smile. “I knit. Or at least I used to. It helped with dexterity and hand coordination.”

“For surgery?”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t knit now?”

“I haven’t in … a while.”

“Because you’re not a surgeon anymore.”

“Correct.”

“I like to bake cakes.”

That stopped her in her tracks, and he didn’t realize she’d stopped until he was six strides ahead. Her mouth hung open. “Is this some kind of a game?”

“Game?” he asked, walking back toward her, his head cocked to the side like a puppy. “No. Why would I … I’m sorry, I’m really confused.”

“I have a very secret obsession with baking and decorating cakes. Like nobody knows about it. Not my parents, not my sisters, not T—” She stopped herself before she said ‘Tad’. “Nobody. It’s how I relieve stress. I like fondant. I like gum paste, and modeling chocolate. I was on a farm animal kick for a while. It was also really good for precision movement. A steady hand is needed for piping icing just like it is for—”

“Surgery.”

She nodded. “Yes, for surgery. But unlike knitting, I still bake. It relaxes me.”

“What do you do with the cakes?”

“I take them and anonymously donate them to the children’s hospital wing.”

His gaze softened, and she squirmed beneath it. “My girls became obsessed with some YouTuber who does elaborate cake decorating. Then they made me make the duck cake from The Australian Women’s Weekly Children’s Birthday Cake Book because they saw it on Bluey. My cake was worse than Bandit’s. But I’m a perfectionist. So I made another one, even though Aya’s birthday had passed. Then another one, until it looked better than the one in the book—and way better than Bandit’s. And soon, my nieces and nephews were having me make their cakes and a few for kids at their school.” He reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out his phone. “Talia’s birthday was in May—that’s Clint’s daughter—and I made her this mermaid cake.” He flipped through a few pictures until he reached the one of the round cake covered in purple, blue, and green sparkle-dusted scales. The mermaid was cartoonish, but beautiful, sitting on a rock, surrounded by fish and shells, a small octopus and a dolphin. “I’m pretty proud of this one.” He beamed.

“It’s beautiful,” she said in awe. “Really, really beautiful.”

He was already flushed from running, but more color infused his cheeks from her compliment. “It relaxes me, too. And watching the YouTube videos and cake decorating shows on Netflix is something the girls and I bond over. They like bragging that their dad makes cakes. So it’s not bad for my ego either.”

“Definitely something worth bragging about.”

For the first time since she met him, he actually looked a little bashful and glanced away. “Well, anyway, I’m not playing any games or trying to make fun of you. I think it’s pretty cool that we both like making cakes though.” He stowed his phone and indicated they should start running again.

Still a little bewildered that she found someone who shared her affinity for cake baking and decorating, it took her a moment to register what he was getting at and she just stared at him in wonder and blinked a bunch.

“Run?” he prompted.

“Oh, right. Yeah. Let’s run.”

They fell in line with each other again and suddenly the conversation flowed as naturally as if they’d been friends for ages. They stuck to the topic of cakes, but that carried them all the way back to the brewpub.

He could have easily parted ways with her when they reached the base of the hill leading up to his house, but he didn’t. He followed her past the other cabins. They slowed to a cool-down walk when they hit the property though, their chests heaving, foreheads misted with hard-earned perspiration. Their grins matched too.

“So, without a hospital around to donate your cakes, are you taking a hiatus while on vacation?” he asked as they approached her cabin.

“I did bring most of what I would need if I wanted to bake and decorate one. That’s what was in one of those totes you carted in the other day.”

“Oh, I have everything you could ever imagine. You didn’t have to bring stuff.”

“Because I knew there was a fellow cake-freak on the island,” she scoffed.

He chuckled. “Fair point.”

---