Mitch pulled a face. “Then maybe I should be rooting for this meringue to completely flop.”
She knew what he was hinting at and couldn’t say she wouldn’t enjoy being Mitch’s date for the soiree. Showing up on the arm of someone as tall and as handsome and as charming as Mitch was every girl’s dream. Still, her dream to wear the title of head baker was a bigger one.
“How about this.” She gave the concoction a final stir. “Either way, I’ll save you a dance.”
“I can settle for that.”
Faith never knew where their conversations would take her. This evening alone, there had been so many twists and turns, emotional highs and lows. Their interactions were bristly one moment, flirtatious the next. He’d obviously been on his best behavior since they’d arrived at the bakery two hours ago, careful not to point out any infractions or shortcomings. She could appreciate that he was a rule follower, but what she didn’t appreciate was the feeling of being under a microscope, her every move analyzed and evaluated. It was stifling.
“When do they select the bakers?” Mitch asked.
“Next week. Which is why I need to practice these meringue kisses. Something doesn’t seem right with the taste or texture.”
Faith set the handheld beater aside and unplugged it, and Mitch quickly picked it up, dragging his index finger along it to pull off a dollop of sugary fluff. He popped his finger into his mouth.
“Faith.” His eyes nearly rolled back, and a throaty groan rumbled his chest. “This is heavenly.”
“You don’t think the lemon is too tart?”
“Not at all. It’s refreshing without being overpowering. The perfect combination.”
That was her hope. Untying the strap on her apron, Faith tugged it free and folded it into a ball that she settled on the counter. “Speaking of combos, we made a pretty good one this evening, didn’t we? I can’t believe we got all of those cookies baked, iced, and packaged in just under an hour and a half. Cynthia is going to be thrilled with the way they turned out.”
“In fairness, I only helped with the cookie cutting and packaging, which we can both admit are the least important parts of the whole process.”
“Not true.” Faith clucked her tongue. “Without you and those trusty cookie cutters, they would just be sugary lumps and not adorable little woodland critters. They turned out just perfectly for the women’s retreat.”
Mitch’s lips moved into a slow smile. “I’m glad I could help,” he said, this time picking up the spatula to put the whole thing into his mouth. He licked off the excess, savoring every last bit until it was clean. “How come you aren’t going on the retreat?”
“Can’t.” Faith collected the mixing bowl filled with meringue and headed to the big refrigerator to stow it away. She would work on it again tomorrow. Something still wasn’t quite right with the consistency. “As a small-business owner, I don’t get a lot of time off.”
“When was the last time you took a vacation? A sick day?”
“I’m closed on Sundays, so I always have that day as a reset. But other than that, Christmas, I guess. New Year’s.” She shrugged, shutting the door to the fridge before leaning against the cold stainless steel. “Honestly, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be, so it doesn’t feel like I’m missing out on anything.” She pushed off from the appliance and came back over to Mitch.
“How many people do you have on staff?”
“Staff?” She sputtered a laugh. “I don’t have a staff.”
“No employees?”
“Nope.” Hooking her thumb and thrusting it to her sternum, she said, “Just me.”
“Is that by choice?”
It hadn’t been. Not really. Faith had wanted to hire someone to help her out at the bakery, even if only to work the register so she could stay in the back to do her baking. But it wasn’t in the financial cards, and she didn’t see that changing any time soon.
“It would be nice to have some help, but I don’t have the money to pay for employees at the moment. So, for now, it’s just a one woman show.”
Mitch leaned in. “A pretty impressive show, if you ask me.”
“Yeah?” She inclined her head, a challenging gaze in her eyes. “You weren’t too turned off by all the potential safety hazards?”
He moved in even more, their faces coming so close she could feel his breath feathering lightly across her mouth. “Not even a little,” he said in a voice much lower than normal. “Not turned off at all.”
What was happening? If Faith had to guess, Mitch was about to kiss her. Did she want that? Yes, absolutely. Every morsel of her being wanted him to close the gap the rest of the way and press his full lips to hers. But her brain—the part that tended to ruin everything—was sending off warning signals, a persistentblare even louder than the shrill smoke alarm from the other day.
She needed an escape because if she continued to stand in front of this man with his tempting mouth and his intense look of desire in those melted chocolate eyes, she couldn’t promise she would behave.
