“Me.” Bri gets up reluctantly.
Bo is still asleep in Cam’s arms. “If you need help, just let us know,” Cam says. “We’re all here to help.”
“The aprons will be done this week too,” Bri says. “They’re adorable.”
“I’m sure they are.” He walks his friends to the door, and maybe I should go too. Everything is so weird. The worst part is, I keep forgetting I have a job to do. Although I’ve looked and I don’t know where that statue could possibly be. You’d think he’d have it sitting out. If he has it, why is it even hidden?
“You can go home. You don’t have to stay here.”
“I don’t have anything else to do today.” And I don’t want to go home. More and more I want to be here. Besides, I can look for the statue.
Only lately I’m wondering if there’s a way I can get out of this.
I don’t think it’s here. I haven’t seen it, and I’ve been upstairs and downstairs at this point. Maybe it’s not here. I’m afraid of what Ivan will do if I tell him that. If I say it’s not here, will he up and leave and search for it somewhere else? Or will he come here himself and tear the bakery apart looking for it.
I don’t want either to happen.
It’s quiet in this kitchen as Sawyer grabs his mixing bowls. “What are we doing?”
I watch his arms flex as he takes out a bunch of ingredients. I guess we aren’t wearing a shirt today. I want to tell him to put one on. It’s got to be a safety hazard.
“I want to make something new for the event. We’re going to create something. I think these truffles will be perfect. Bite-sized, not messy. I want to experiment. I’m going to make lemon ones, mango ones, and maybe some sort of vanilla. I made some chocolate ones the other day. Adding those to the menu. People can build their own boxes. Like a box of chocolates. They can fill them up with little bite-sized desserts. First box free.”
“That’s smart.”
“Going to have a few different types of drinks too. Some nonalcoholic champagne.” He grabs a mixing bowl, putting chocolate in it and setting it aside. “Iced coffee for sure.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Sawyer measures out some heavy cream. “Heat this up on the stove, but don’t boil it. Just a simmer.” Sawyer slides the cup of cream to me. My gaze lifts to his and there’s something unreadable in his eyes. Some sort of thick tension I’ve felt since coming here.
I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.
Still, he hasn’t mentioned it and I’m afraid to bring it up. He’s messing with my head. His brown eyes are darker than they were the other night, nearly black with flecks of light brown in them.
Clearing my throat, I move over to the stove to heat up the cream. I glance back at him, watching him prep things, every move deliberate. The air’s heavy with something that makes me feel warmer than the oven I’m standing in front of.
Sawyer clears his throat, writing something down, his muscles moving as he writes. He grabs the butter dish and puts a tablespoon of butter into the chocolate. “Is it hot?”
“What?”
Sawyer’s attention moves to me. “The cream?”
“Oh, uh...” I look down at the stove, watching it bubble gently as he walks over. His shoulder brushes against mine, shocking me with the contact, and my breath stalls as everything becomes heavy and hot. His gaze lifts to mine again, his attention like a hand down my spine.
Heat rushes over me and it has nothing to do with the stove. We’re close. His eyes flick to my lips then down at the cream.
“This is good. Here.” He takes it off the stove and shuts off the burner. His hand lands on my lower back, short-circuiting my nervous system, then he steps around me to grab a bowl of pink powder. “This is raspberry powder.” His fingers slip off my back. but I can still feel sparks tingle under my skin. My stomach is a mess. “Now add the powder and vanilla extract, and just a drop or two of this rose extract.”
I grab it from him, our fingers brushing. It’s barely a whisper of contact, but it steals every coherent thought I have in my head.
“Aiden?”
I clear my throat. “Rose?” He nods, oblivious to the tightness coiling in my chest. “Won’t that taste like a flower?” I can’t imagine that would taste good.
“Trust me. Just a drop, and we can add more if we need to.” I put a single drop in.
He touches my fingers.
