Page 76 of Sweet Somethings

"He said my father apparently couldn't hammer a nail and that my grandfather had wanted him to go into business with him, but it wasn't in the cards. He also told me my dad dropped out of college without telling my grandfather. He sold his belongings and ran off to LA to find his true passion—whatever that was. Oh, and I guess he used to play the guitar."

"So you have something in common with him. How does that make you feel?"

"I honestly don't know."

"Does it make you want to know more about him?"

"Maybe."

"Hasn't your grandfather told you about him?"

"No. Maybe if I'd asked, he'd have answered, but I never did. My dad wasn't part of my life. I had other problems to worry about."

"That makes sense." She paused. "You know what I liked most about your music tonight?"

"What's that?"

"I could feel emotion coming from your strings. You don't like to show how you feel. You've got the tough guy mask on almost all the time. But tonight was different. You were part of a group. You were engaged with the music. It was like it released something in you, opened a gate or a lock."

"I don't know exactly where you're going with this, but I will admit that music was always an escape for me."

"When did you start playing?"

"I was about eight or nine. One of my mom's boyfriends was a guitar player. He taught me how to play, and he left me a guitar when he took off. I kept playing it." He thought about all the dark nights when music had blocked out reality. But realizing how much he was giving away, he cleared his throat and said, "Baking must be like that for you."

"It wasn't in the beginning. I told you, right after my parents died, I couldn't go near the kitchen, but then it became a safe place for me again."

"And Fairhope is an even safer place."

"Yes. But I don't feel like I ran away from New York. Fairhope is a nice place to live, and it suits me more than the big city. I think you like it, too, even though you probably wouldn't admit it."

"It's not all bad."

"High praise," she said dryly.

"Speaking of praise, how did our cakes go over today?"

"They're our cakes now?" she teased.

"I feel I have somewhat of a claim on the toasted almond cakes."

"They were amazing. The restaurant loved them on sight, and they called me later to tell me that everyone at the party raved about them."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks. Hopefully, I'll get more business out of it."

"I think you're going to have more business than you can manage. You might have to consider hiring someone and letting go of some of your control in the kitchen, not that that would be easy for you. You are as tough as any drill sergeant I've ever had."

She looked surprised at that. "I'm not tough. I'm sweet—everyone says so."

"Not in the kitchen, babe."

"What do you mean?"

"You're cutthroat. I was afraid for my life when I dusted the pans wrong."

"You were not," she said with a frown. "And I just wanted to get everything right."

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