Page 26 of Bake You Mine
AfterThe Pinnacleran the story, talk in town shifted to the competition. Aubrey worried that her heart eyes were evident to the world. No one had mentioned anything, so maybe it was all in her head, just like everything else.
Aubrey had done all she could about the reviews, so it was time to put her full attention where it mattered.
Unfortunately, that meant talking to Liam. Or texting. Having his contact information in her phone was a head trip, especially after their conversation at the cocktail party. She’d played it over and over in her mind, trying to assess the meaning.
Tired of driving herself to distraction, she’d assigned his contact the poop emoji to remind herself that while her crush on him grew, it had no place in the competition.
Texting was more manageable than being around him. She’d sensed him looking at her differently, as if she no longer existed outside his orbit.
That may have been wishful thinking. Or he was using those flirtatious charms on her without even realizing it. That hadto be it.
She had to work out some of that frustration, and she was tired of being in the house, though it was empty for once. Daphne was at Chris’s, and Aubrey’s father was at a board meeting for the local homeless veterans charity. She couldn’t think in the creaky old house, so she hoped the vacant space would inspire her.
As she turned out of the driveway, her phone chimed with the text tone she’d assigned for Liam. He had to have a unique tone; otherwise, her heart would leap into her throat whenever her phone alerted. She exhaled a sharp breath before reaching for it.
Last course: a regional cheese plate with homemade pimento crackers and our famous fried pickles. Could you make a puff pastry to accompany it?
On the drive, she pondered Liam’s suggestion. More often than not, her thoughts turned to a slow-mo reel of him flicking his hair out of his eyes.
After she pulled into the alley lot behind Petit Chou, she fired back a text.
Sounds good. I’m brainstorming now. I’m going to make the bread, but I haven’t decided what. I need to get with my baker. Should we print up menus delineating who’s done what?
Despite being in the middle of dinner service, Liam responded immediately.
That’s a great idea. Let me know what you come up with.
She locked the car with one hand and tucked her sketchbookunder her arm. Without thinking, her feet took her the long way around Sweet Briar.
It was the kind of night where summer lingered, but autumn slowly seeped in.
Music and conversation drifted onto the sidewalk. There were several places to grab a bite on Sweet Briar. Happy Endings, a sports bar and grill, drew a crowd for late-season baseball. Calabria, an old-fashioned Italian restaurant in business since her father’s childhood days in Port Fortune, attracted an older clientele.
Elevation’s crowd was younger, thanks to the decor and, judging by the women in attendance, hot chef. The line wasn’t so bad for Friday night; it was only about ten deep.
The oversized garage doors were thrown open, giving a perfect view in. Liam lived up to his hot chef persona. He floated around the tables like a movie star at a premiere, with charisma that knocked people stupid.
She shoved her head down and considered a pastry to pair with the cheese plate. A rustic cherry hand pie? Or a cheese Danish? No, the latter wouldn’t work, as she already served something similar at Petit Chou.
“Aubs!” Liam’s little sister, Sasha, ran out from the hostess stand onto the sidewalk in three-inch heels. She bent slightly at the waist and wrapped an arm around Aubrey’s shoulder. “What are you doing here past your bedtime?”
“I bet she’s working on the menu for the first challenge.” Liam appeared, making her heart beat out a staccato.
Where was the ringtone for real life?
She turned to find him wearing an expression that bordered between a smirk and a smile. “I was, actually.” She moved her sketchbook from one arm to the other.
“Ah, pastry chefs, sketching as if they were fashion designers or architects.”
“Maybe because we’re a little of both?” She glared at him. “Don’t you have a dinner service you should be running?”
The conversation around them lulled, making her entirely aware they had become the evening’s entertainment.
“Greeting diners is part of the job,” Liam said.
“Sure it is, hot chef,” Aubrey murmured.
Liam cleared his throat. “No more troll comments or reviews?”
