My mind wanders to lazy mornings spent in the fields, followed by runs downtown and busy mornings in a bakery. Mabel’s old bakery. I imagine how amazing it would be to spend my mornings catching up with my sister before rushing back to my own store to do the one thing I love:bake.
“What are you doing?” Walker’s gruff voice shakes me from my daydream.
I spin, holding up the spatula to him. “Making apology cupcakes.”
Walker’s frown turns into a long sigh, and he ruffs one of those big hands across his face. “I told you, you’re forgiven.” He strolls past me and goes to the sink to scrub off the day’s work from his hands.
“Still, I wanted to do something for you and my mom.” Because, although they both say everything is fine, I still feel terrible about what happened.
Now I study Walker as he drops his gaze to the ground and slides his hands in the pocket of his Wranglers before stepping up next to me. From this close, I can see speckles of green in his deep brown eyes. God, he’s beautiful. I step back. If I don’t, I’m liable to wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him.
“So you like to bake?” He glances over my shoulder at the mess I’ve made.
“I’ll clean it up, I promise.”
Walker sighs. “That’s not what I was saying. I’m—” He pulls at his hair. “Fuck, I’m no good at this.”
I take pity on him and his inability to make conversation.Or maybe on my inability to trust that someone actually wants to make conversation with me. That I have anything worth telling. “Yes, I bake.”
“Professionally, or …?”
I smile over my shoulder as I take out the measuring cup and begin sifting through the ingredients on the counter. “Yeah. My first wedding cake was probably five years ago in Vermont.”
“So you were, what, twenty …?”
As I dump the eggs I’ve just beaten into the mix, I smirk at him. “Trying to figure out my age, Cowboy?”
He shakes his head but a smile teases his lips. “Something like that.”
“I was twenty-one. It was my third winter away—since you’re nosy and need all the facts.” He nods in response so I continue. “It was my second year at that particular resort, and since the chef I worked with the year before learned I had an interest in baking, he put me on that line.”
“So that’s what you prefer? Baking?”
I nod. “When I was in high school, I worked in the local bakery in town. It’s not open anymore, but I loved it there. There’s something so soothing about being in a kitchen. My mind relaxes when it’s just me and ingredients.” I reach for the vanilla and add a teaspoon to the cake mixture.
Walker folds his arms across his chest and leans against the wall. “That’s how I feel out on the farm.”
I grab the mixer and turn it on. “My dad was the same way. So was Mom.”
“But not you or Penny?”
I pause the mixer, holding it midair. “Just never felt like it was mine. And Penny had books. I guess I always wantedsomething that was my own, too.” I set the mixer back in the bowl and turn it on.
“So why not open up your own bakery?” he asks, loudly enough that I can hear him over the noise. “Is it because you love to travel? Don’t want to stay in one place?”
“So many questions, Cowboy.” Satisfied no lumps remain in the batter, I turn off the mixer and get out the first cupcake pan. Then I reach for the cooking spray and grease the pan before pouring some of the batter into each cup. “First one down,” I mumble as I place the pan in the oven and set the timer.
“Guessing you don’t want to answer.”
“I’ll answer yours if you answer mine?”
He pauses, then shrugs. “Okay.Within reason.”
I laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in your darkest secrets.”
Something passes over his face, an unease that has me wondering what type of secrets Walker could be hiding.
“I’ll go first. Do I want a bakery? Sure, one day. It’s not that I love traveling. It’s just the only way to get real experience in kitchens without schooling.”
