Page 44 of My Secret Snowflake
I texted Raphael to make sure I didn’t have to come in—once I heard Sebastian was going to be here and I was looking for an excuse to avoid him—but he said it had been handled and even he wasn’t in the office this weekend.What did Raphael find? How could we not need to do more?My curiosity is killing me.
Did I just switch the salt and the baking powder? I check the recipe again. I did it right. I line up the rest of my ingredients so my distraction doesn’t result in inedible cookies. Lily would never let me bake again.
Next up is to add the flour into the rest of the dry ingredients, but I’m not careful, and some puffs out, covering my front in a fine layer of white dust. Great. I add the rest of the ingredients, mix the batter, and then separate the dough into two halves and cover it in plastic wrap to let it sit. Now to wash all the dishes and clear my space so I can roll out the dough. I head to the sink.
“I’ll wash those for you,” Zeke says. “I’ve just finished ours.”
“Thanks.” I pile the dishes on the counter.
Rupert greets someone enthusiastically in the hallway, and then Sebastian stands in the doorway to the open living room and kitchen area.
I’m spotted with flour and wearing a huge apron. Not exactly my best look.
He half-smiles, looking quite comfortable.
“Sebastian, maybe you can help Iris?” Lily winks at me. She gives the impression of a sweet librarian, but she definitely has a mischievous streak underneath. So much for helping me avoid Sebastian at her party.
Sebastian flashes me a quick glance.
“Oh, sure,” he says.
He hesitates a moment before walking over. He bites his lip like he’s thinking about what to say. Cute. But this is so awkward. I know I should apologize—before he tells me again that he’s not interested in dating.
“I’m here to help.” He smiles as he joins me at the counter
That’s good. He’s acting normal.
“Do I need an apron?” He gestures to mine.
“You didn’t bring your own?”
“I’m not sure I own one.” He holds up his hand. “But I do cook, before you get the wrong impression.”
“You’re just tidy,” I say.
“I could probably use an apron,” he says.
“If only I knew who your Secret Snowflake was,” I say.
“Let’s see if Ernest brings his own, if he comes,” Sebastian says. “If not, you could buy him an apron.”
“How did you know he’s invited?” I ask.
“I invited him,” he says. “Wait…”
“So did I,” I say.
He glances at me, his eyebrow raised.
“You’re okay with aprons but not underwear?” I tease. “Doesn’t that send a domestic message?”
“Aprons are as safe as socks,” he says.
“Interesting. I have to get the cookie cutters from the pantry. I’m so jealous that Rupert has a pantry.”
“I’ll come too.”
The pantry is a large walk-in closet lined with shelves. It could be in a magazine spread. As I reach up to grab the tin, which is, of course, on the very top shelf because it’s probably not used often, Sebastian says, “I’ll get it.”
