Page 35 of Whisking It All

DiceDiceBaby: Me too, princess.

Chapter 12

Jamie drove up the gravel driveway to Ethan’s house at 6:59 a.m. Ethan had called him the night before on his way to the airport, making Jamie promise he’d help Tessa find her footing with the bakery and the festival. “She’s feeling like an outsider,” Ethan had said. “She doesn’t know the area, or which vendors to use. She wants to be taken seriously on her own merits, and you could help her make the right connections to get her started.”

Jamie knew no better way to welcome Tessa into the food scene of Aster Bay than a trip to the farmer’s market. But as he walked up to Ethan’s front door to pick Tessa up for their hunt for “inspiration,” Jamie suddenly had second thoughts. He was not the right person for this job, for teaching someone how to assimilate into Aster Bay. After twenty years, he still didn’t feel like the town had fully embraced him, aside from the guys who had become more family than friends.

Tessa threw open the front door, turning and walking back down the hallway before he even had a minute to say anything. “I just need to brush my teeth!” she called over her shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom.

When she re-emerged, Jamie was still standing in the foyer and she skidded to a stop, her eyes raking over him. He cleared his throat, arching an eyebrow at her and trying not to enjoy the fact that she was checking him out. He was supposed to be helping her build a name for herself as a chef, like her father would have if he were in town, not like a man who couldn’t stop thinking about her raven-wing eyes, or the sounds she made when she came.

He held out a cardboard coffee cup to her.

“Oh, thank God.” She reached for the cup, speaking directly to it. “Hello, lover.” As she took a sip, she caught his amused smirk. “I…really like coffee.”

“So I gathered. Nice shirt.”

She glanced down as though she were seeing the hot pink t-shirt with a picture of a giant frosted donut over each breast for the first time. “Thanks,” she mumbled, adding something about laundry day before taking another sip of her coffee and releasing a happy sigh. The sound warmed him more than coffee ever could. He thought it best he not examine why.

He cleared his throat. “Did I get it right?” At her questioning look, he gestured to the coffee cup. “How you take it?”

“Oh! Yes! I mean it’s no Starbucks, but still. How did you know?”

“It’s how you prepared it at the restaurant the other day.”

She let out a surprised laugh. “And you remembered?”

He shrugged, like it was no big deal. Like he didn’t remember every second he’d spent in her presence over the last two weeks. Every snarky remark, every flutter of her eyelashes, every sigh… Stop.

“Any word on your grandfather?”

“Ethan called about a half hour ago. Gramps is scheduled for surgery on Wednesday, but he’s stable for now. He got mad at the nurse for not letting him have bacon with his breakfast this morning.”

Jamie smiled. “That sounds like Henry. I’m glad your dad is there. I’m sure your grandmother appreciates it.” He gestured to the front door. “Shall we?”

The roads of Aster Bay were mostly deserted this early in the morning, making the small town with its perfect rows of trees along each sidewalk appear more like a movie set than an actual town. He loved fall in Aster Bay, the baskets of flowers hanging from each lamppost color coordinated for the season—orange, yellow, and deep burgundy mums declaring that fall had arrived, even if the trees hadn’t started changing colors yet—and the air just beginning to take on the crisp smell of autumn.

Whisky was right. It made him want pie and soup. Maybe he’d make chouriço and kale soup later, even if Whisky couldn’t taste it.

He pulled the car into a parking spot in the small lot next to the town common, an entire block in the center of town devoted entirely to a playground, gazebo, and green space. That morning, the green space was covered with row after row of white pop-up tents, each one occupied by a local vendor. A few customers were already milling about, but this early in the morning, it was mostly just the vendors.

“Ready to be inspired?” Jamie asked.

“Always,” she said, withdrawing her small, leather-bound notebook from her back pocket.

The first tent boasted an assortment of baked goods and a giant coffee urn. Jamie nodded to the woman as they walked past, then leaned down so only Tessa could hear him. “Don’t eat Linda’s muffins if you value your digestive health.”

She laughed mid-sip of her coffee. “Thanks for the warning.”

They walked past the next few tents, Jamie greeting each person by name, tossing out well wishes for their spouses and asking after their children. He’d worked hard to learn every name, to remember little details about each person so they would know he cared about them. So they’d forget he hadn’t always been one of them.

He paused in front of a tent filled with crates of vegetables in every color of the rainbow—beets and cabbages, multicolored beans and what must be the last of the eggplant crop. The back of an old pickup truck was pulled up behind the tent, the bed piled high with ears of corn. Tessa ran her hand lovingly over the vegetables before she began scribbling in her notebook. What he wouldn’t give to see what she was writing in there.

“Don’t tell me you’re out of beets already,” Ricky said as he pulled a crate of peppers from the cab of the truck.

Jamie smiled. “Not even close. I wanted to introduce you to Tessa.” He dropped his hand to the small of her back, his palm barely making contact with her and yet the touch still made his mouth go dry. As his hand met the curve of her spine, she looked up from her notebook as though emerging from a trance. “Tessa, this is Ricky DaSilva. He owns DaSilva’s Farm on the edge of town and has the best produce in the county.”

“Are you Ethan’s daughter?” Ricky asked, setting down the peppers and taking a step forward. He extended his hand to her.

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