Page 9 of Frosting and Flames

Rachel makes a sound of amusement and I look over at her, surprised at the slight smile on her face. I don’t think she’s ever smiled around me.

“What?” I ask, bits of danish escaping my mouth. I quickly wipe them away and stuff the half-eaten pastry back in its sleeve.

She gestures toward me. “You made a funny sound.”

Shit. What did I do now? “I did?”

She nods. “Like you were having a… private moment with the danish.”

“Oh.” Heat touches my cheeks briefly. “I guess I was. It’s amazing.”

She gives me a brief nod. “Thanks.”

“You made it?”

She makes a sound of affirmation. “Yeah. I’ve been working on perfecting the recipe lately, actually.”

“Well, you have a winner. I’ve never had one this good.”

Her head tilts to the side. “Where do you normally get yours? I’ve never seen you in here.”

“The grocery store.”

Her immediate tsk is so loud, it’s almost comical. “Oh, no. They don’t even have a proper bakery. Danishes are meant to be experienced freshly baked. It’s not worth it otherwise.”

I keep my smile to myself at her passionate outburst. It’s the most she’s ever spoken to me.

“Now I know.” I take a second bite, savoring the buttery richness, and contemplate my next question. “Would it be okay if I came back some time to get another?”

She seems to pick up on the unspoken subtext.Is it okay for me to be here?

“Sure.” She smooths her hands down her apron. “That’d be fine.”

As basic as it is, her answer does more than she knows to ease the ever-present tension in my gut when it comes to this bakery and her.

Hailey returns, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Nick. Apparently, our parents donate them every year, but don’t put it as an order in the system since we don’t get paid.”

Rachel makes a quick sound of exasperation before stopping herself and turning away.

Hailey holds her hands out helplessly. “We don’t have the cookies.”

Ah, shit. My first job is in the crapper. Still, I don’t want Rachel and Hailey to feel bad about it. It’s not their fault.

“No sweat,” I tell them. “I’ll pick some up at—”

“Don’t say the grocery store,” Rachel says, turning back toward me, her finger pointing accusingly. “And we honor our promises. Even if we didn’t know we made them.”

“I… Okay.” I’ll go along with whatever she says.

“How are we going to make five hundred cookies?” Hailey murmurs to her sister. “Should I call Sydney?”

Rachel bites her lip. “No, she deserves her day off. I’ll make it work. I always do.”

A couple comes in and I step aside so they can browse the pastry case. As Hailey answers their questions, Rachel runs a hand through her dark hair, wisps of it escaping her ponytail, and closes her eyes, the lines bracketing her mouth suddenly appearing more pronounced.

“I can help.” The words escape before I can snatch them back. What am I doing? She already rejected my offers of help yesterday, first to examine what went wrong with the oven, then to clean up. “If you want,” I add lamely.

She gives a half-smile. “I don’t make customers help with their own orders.”

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