Page 31 of Whisking It All

“I have an idea for the brunch menu,” he said. “Tomorrow morning. Seven o’clock. I’ll pick you up.”

“And take me where?”

“Where all the inspiring ingredients are.”

∞∞∞

WhiskyBusiness: Happy October!

DiceDiceBaby: Happy October. Is that a thing people say to each other?

WhiskyBusiness: *eyeroll emoji* It is if you say it.

WhiskyBusiness: Don’t you just love the fall?

DiceDiceBaby: I guess? I’m more of a spring guy myself.

WhiskyBusiness: This weather makes me want to wear cozy sweaters and drink hot chocolate and make pies.

DiceDiceBaby: Don’t you make pies year-round?

WhiskyBusiness: Not fall pies. Apple and pumpkin and pecan.

WhiskyBusiness: I just found my grandmother’s recipe for sweet potato pie. I’m dying to make it.

DiceDiceBaby: That’s one of my favorites. My friend’s mom used to make it for me every Thanksgiving. It’s a fall classic.

WhiskyBusiness: Then I’ll definitely have to make it.

WhiskyBusiness: This is my first real fall in years.

DiceDiceBaby: You didn’t have fall where you lived before?

WhiskyBusiness: Not like this. Not like leaves-changing-color, chill-in-the-air, time-to-make-soup fall.

DiceDiceBaby: What kind of soup would you make?

WhiskyBusiness: I’m no good at making soup. I always burn the bottom of the pan.

DiceDiceBaby: Then what kind of soup would you want me to make for you?

WhiskyBusiness: I love a good chouriço and kale soup.

DiceDiceBaby: I would gladly make you chouriço and kale soup.

DiceDiceBaby: If you were here.

WhiskyBusiness: I know you would. And I would make you a pie.

Chapter 11

Ethan wandered into the bakery long after the vineyard had closed for the day to find Tessa sitting on the counter, crumpled pieces of notebook paper scattered around her as she tried to finalize the bakery’s opening menu. She’d discovered a box of index cards full of her grandmother’s recipes in a drawer beneath the front counter and had been slowly setting aside the ones she wanted to revive (or reimagine)—like the sweet potato pie.

But she didn’t want to just resurrect the bakery as it had been. She wanted to make it her own. Being a pop-up shop allowed for room to experiment, try new things to see what worked, and hopefully by the time she left Aster Bay, she’d leave Sugar Grapes with a few new tricks up its sleeve in case her father decided to make the bakery a permanent fixture of the vineyard someday.

Ethan took one look at the exhaustion in her face and insisted on taking her out to dinner. He’d wanted to go to Lemon and Thyme, but Tessa had had enough of Jamie for one day. Every time they were together, she got more confused. They’d bicker and snipe at each other one minute and then suddenly they’d be flirting and he’d look at her with all that banked heat in his eyes until she didn’t know which way was up. Tessa was all too familiar with never standing on solid ground, and she was tired of it. Her time in Aster Bay was meant to be simple, but she should have known better. Nothing was ever simple about Aster Bay.

In the end, Ethan agreed to take her to the Dockside Diner, a little hole in the wall on the edge of town. The sparkly red vinyl booths and chrome and faux-marble linoleum tabletops gave the place a vintage vibe, and every surface was pristine. The metal napkin holders on each table gleamed in the fluorescent lights, no drippy ketchup bottles in sight, and a teenager in a spotless white apron was diligently scrubbing the counter when they arrived.

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