Page 38 of Tacos & Toboggans
“Done?” he asked, and I nodded, so he lifted my pan and slid it into the oven next to his before he closed the door. “I didn’t know how much fun making cookies could be,” he said as he waited for the timer to go off. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“You’re welcome, though you kind of invited yourself,” I said with a chuckle as I cleaned up the supplies, leaving only the cinnamon and sugar out for the last batch.
“I did, didn’t I?” The question was asked with a little clap that had me laughing.
It had been two weeks since my surgery, and he’d stuck close to my side the entire time. He’d been correct when he said the pain would improve quickly, and by the middle of the first week, I was able to take nothing but Tylenol and Advil to get me through the day. While he was at work, I napped and worked on my book orders, never more grateful that I’d broken my left arm; otherwise, there would be some disappointed kids this Christmas. The time away from the diner had made it easy to get caught up on the orders, and that was a silver lining in this cloud. At least, when I went back to work next week, there wouldn’t be a backlog, which would make the holidays more enjoyable for me and the anxious parents awaiting their special edition books.
When Major finished the workday, we always shared dinner from one of the many meals Ivy had left in his freezer. He’d only been late one night, but I had been so lost in my work that I hadn’t noticed. Then, after dinner, he always convinced me to sit with him and watch a movie or play a card game. I taught him to play Kings Corner, and he enjoyed winning more hands than he lost. Oddly enough, we’d developed an easy friendship that didn’t require ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ only ‘can I help you’ and ‘will you join me?’
Tonight, when I told him it was time to make some Thanksgiving cookies for the weekend, he refused to let me go alone. That gave me a strange sensation behind my sternum. The sensation was probably happiness, something I hadn’t experienced in far too long.
As though he’d been doing it for years, he pulled the pans from the oven, shook on the cinnamon and sugar, and slid them onto the rack. “All done.”
“I tease you, but it means a lot that you came with me tonight,” I said, holding up my splint. “It probably wouldn’t have worked one-handed, as much as I want to pretend it would.”
He untied the apron around his waist and tossed it into the hamper. “Probably not. It’s a nice splint, but you still can’t use the arm, and those pans are ungodly heavy.”
“It is a nice splint. It’s almost like someone scared everybody senseless at the hospital about ensuring it was made perfectly.”
When he gave me the side eye, I snorted and shook my head. Finally, he held up his hand. “All I said was that it was important to maintain the alignment, but that you needed a durable splint since you’d be returning to work.”
“The way I heard it, you threatened everyone with the loss of payday donuts for a month if they screwed it up. I don’t know what payday donuts are, but I know it would be a solid motivator for me, too.”
He tossed a thumb at the bakery cases behind us. “Payday donuts is when I bring in donuts from the bakery on payday. Simple, but effective as a means of keeping people loyal.”
“You’re diabolical,” I said, laughing as he shrugged.
“I wield my power via sprinkles and peanuts. It’s why all the girls want me,” he said, blowing on his fingers and rubbing them on his shirt.
“I can name about ten off the top of my head that would date you in a heartbeat,” I said, shutting down the lights and motioning him to the front of the bakery.
“Are you one of them?” he asked in my ear, making me jump.
“Major, I’m the last person you want to date. I’m like down here,” I said, holding one hand by my knees, “and you’re up here.” I held my other hand above my head. “You must be exhausted. We should head home,” I said to distract him from that discussion.
He grabbed both my hands gently and held them between us. “We’re both right here,” he said, his gaze holding mine. “Equals in everything except your beauty, which is unmatched by any woman I’ve yet to meet in this town. You may sell yourself short, but I never will. Got it?” Rather than speak, I nodded because speaking might reveal the sound of the tears I was holding back. “Good. Before we head home, don’t wehave to wait for the cookies to cool so we can put them in the case?” he asked, motioning behind us to the oven.
“Nah, the bakers will do it when they come in tonight. I let them know they’d be waiting. They’ll be good and cool that way before they go in the case. If they go in the case.”
“If?” he asked as we grabbed our coats and shrugged them on.
“Sometimes they package them by the dozen. It’s easier than taking twelve from the case every time someone wants them.”
“Because no one buys just one?”
“You know it,” I said, laughing as I locked the bakery behind me. I was one of the lucky few who had a key to both the diner and the bakery, and it wasn’t a responsibility I took lightly.
“How about a piece of pie before we go home?” he asked. Before I could answer, he held up his hand. “And don’t say your hips don’t need a piece of pie.”
“But that’s exactly what I was going to say,” I said, biting back a smile at his long-suffering sigh. “That said, if we’re lucky, there’s a piece or two of Mel’s lemon meringue left, and my hips always need a piece of that.”
He clapped like a little kid about to see Santa Claus. “What kind of jam do you put on that?”
“What do you think we are? Monsters?” I gasped as I clutched my fake pearls.
“You have to admit, there was a fifty-fifty chance you were going to come out with something like orange marmalade.”
“Oh, that goes on peach pie.” His nose curled a bit. “Don’t knock it until you—”
