Page 48 of Rebel Heart
Even his voice was far too much for me to handle. I could barely get out my own response. “Beau.”
Something flashed in his eyes, but he didn’t speak. He simply stood there, staring at me.
Unable to stand the intense scrutiny of that gaze, I asked, “What are you doing here?”
It was like I’d snapped him out of whatever thoughtswere swirling in his own head as he blinked at the sound of my voice, like even though he was physically here, his mind had drifted somewhere else.
He pulled himself together and sighed. “I tried. I tried so hard—twice, I might add—and I just can’t seem to do it right.”
My brows knit together. I had not a clue what he was talking about, even though I wanted to believe it was about him coming to tell me he just couldn’t stay away and ignore what had been starting between us. “Pardon?”
He ran his fingers through his hair and was beyond frustrated when he asked, “Can I just buy some cookies from you?”
Cookies.
This was about cookies.
“Your attempt at making them didn’t go so well?” I asked.
He shook his head and held up a bag. “I made two attempts. Both failed.”
The last thing I wanted to do was let my guard down around him, but some of his expressions now made sense. The defeat he must have felt was about the results he’d gotten with his attempts at baking.
I held out my hand. “Well, let’s see what you did wrong.”
Beau lowered the bag, caution etched into his features, and refused to give it to me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I’m nervous about letting you try these. They… They’re not good at all.”
For the first time since he walked up, I relaxed a bit and smiled at him. “If you think I haven’t experienced my fair share of baking blunders, you’re mistaken. The only way to learn is to figure out what went wrong and fix it for the next time.”
Hesitantly, he handed over the bag. I stepped out from behind the counter, walked over to one of the tables, and sat down. Beau sat across from me, his tentative stare on me the entire time.
Opening the bag, I pulled out the cookies and placed them on a napkin. “Are these all from the same batch?”
He pointed at them. “No. These two are from the first batch, and these are from the second. I knew the first ones weren’t going to be good when half of them were darker than the others. Clearly, I did something wrong.”
“And what do you think is the problem with the second batch?”
“Nothing, if you down a gallon of milk at the same time you’re eating them.”
“Dry?” I asked.
“Yep. And really… I don’t know, I guess, tough?”
I picked up a cookie from the first batch and tasted it. The flavor wasn’t bad, but there was clearly an issue with the baking time or temperature. “These aren’t awful, Beau. Given that you said they were unevenly browned, my guess is that you didn’t portion them equally. If they’re too big, they’ll need more baking time, and if they’re on the smaller side, they’ll need less time. I recommend using a cookie scoop. It’ll be precisely what youneed to make sure you measure out the same amount every time. I use one, too.”
Beau nodded his understanding. “A cookie scoop?”
“Yep. That’s all it should take.” I held the cookie up between us. “This was a valiant first attempt at real homemade cookies.”
Beau blushed, and my heart skipped a beat. How could one small compliment like that make him blush?
Not wanting to put him on the spot when it was clear he was already struggling, I moved to pick up a cookie from his second batch. I bit into it, chewed once, and stopped. The last thing I wanted to do was make him feel bad, but these were awful.
“I warned you they were terrible.”
