It's good to be fae. Or, in my case, with one.
“Oh, I think we'll need a bit more time to decide,” Taeven said. “My friend is a baker, and he's very impressed by your desserts.”
“You're a baker?” The man grinned at me broadly. “It's always nice to meet a culinary brother.”
“Oh, I'm not in your league, Sir,” I protested. “I mainly bake bread. The closest I've come to these beauties is probably my cream puffs.”
“Ah, but the pastry dough for puffs is difficult to do,” he protested. “Once you've mastered that, you are just a few steps away from grander delights.” He stepped out from behind the counter and pointed out several items. “All of these use that very same dough.”
“Really?” I bent to gape at some of the amazing desserts.
“All you need is a steady hand, a good recipe, and patience,” the baker said. He looked from me to the Falcon Lord. “Come in back, and I will show you.”
“What?” I squeaked.
The man laughed. “I have some shells prepared; it will only take a few minutes to show you how to assemble them.”
“I would be most honored to watch.” I held my hand out to him. “Shane Ruhara.”
“Samuel Ricard,” he replied.
“And this is Taeven Rumerra, the Falcon Lord,” I introduced them.
“I didn't realize you were a warlord.” Samuel bowed deeply to Taeven. “I'm honored to have you in my shop. Please, come on back.”
Samuel led us behind the counter and around the busy staff, who gave us shocked looks. We went back into a workroom crowded with massive steel mixing bowls so large that they sat on the floor, and a huge table covered in flour. Ingredients lined the shelves and tools hung on the walls. I felt instantly at home.
“Here we are.” Samuel waved at the table, in particular at the glass bowls heaped with crispy, puffy pastry shells. “You'll recognize these, I'm sure.” He grabbed a paper doily, then set a shell down on it. “One moment.”
I gave Taeven an excited grin as the baker went to an enormous icebox and took out a cone-shaped piping bag full of cream. He brought that, along with some bags of chocolate and frosting to the table, then proceeded to construct a beautiful eclair-like dessert, going slowly enough that I could follow the process. When he was done, I just gaped at it.
“Would you like to try your hand at one?” Samuel offered me the bag of cream.
“I'm afraid to waste your supplies.”
“Nonsense, you'll be eating it when you're done.” He grinned. “No waste.”
“Then I'd be delighted.” I took the bag of cream and proceeded to mimic what he'd done.
Samuel watched carefully, giving me tips on how to angle the bag for decorating and such. When I was done, I was shocked by what I had made.
“Well done, Shane.” Samuel waved a hand at the dessert. “Now, you reap the rewards.”
“It's too beautiful,” I protested.
“Yes, but its purpose is not just to be admired, but to also be eaten,” he shot back. “First you consume with your eyes, then with your mouth.”
I cleared my throat, taking his words in a way that I was certain he hadn't intended.
“Yes, it sounds erotic,” he shocked me by saying. “But great food, especially a great dessert, has an element of eroticism to it, don't you think? There is nothing as sexy as pastry.” He waved his hands outward toward my creation.
“If you don't eat that erotic pastry, I will,” Taeven declared. “And I'll probably come in my pants as I do.”
“Now that, I must see!” The baker quickly scooped up the dessert he'd made and offered it to the Falcon Lord. “Have all the pastries you want, my lord.”
The three of us burst into laughter, but then Tae took a bite and started groaning. Samuel was nearly right; there's nothing as sexy as pastrywhen the Falcon Lord is eating it.
Chapter Eleven
