Jamie:
And catering?
Silas:
Sorry, my friend, but she loved the ladies garden party you all did last month.
Jamie:
So if she likes our food, maybe it won’t be so bad?
Silas:
Ah, sweet Jamie. I wish that were so. She had a list a milelong of ways it could be improved upon.
Jamie:
Delightful.
“Where are the cupcakes?” Marissa called out.
Shit, the cupcakes. I whipped open the oven door and breathed a sigh of relief to see they were the perfect golden shade. I grabbed oven mitts and pulled out the large tray.
“Jamie?” She walked down the kitchen toward me at abrisk pace. “Oh, you’re on top of it.” She smiled warmly. “Thank goodness.”
“Baking is my jam,” I reminded her gently. She always got a little tightly wound when we were nearing the deadline for a catering job.
“Right. Yes. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She patted my arm.
Guilt flickered. I really wished I was happier to be here, because she was a good boss. I was just tired of making other people’s recipes, of the night and weekend shifts to cover events, of the tension that took over the kitchen when we were on a deadline.
“Let’s get those cupcakes cooled and frosted,” Marissa said. “We’re on a tight schedule here.”
I couldn’t make the cupcakes cool any faster. I did a circuit of the kitchen, checking Theo’s work, and put the finishing touches on the entrees. I frosted the cupcakes last, got them packed up and helped load everything for delivery.
Luckily, this executive banquet was at a hotel with its own serving staff, so it didn’t require my attendance. I headed home to Lady and Tramp, stomach fluttering once again at the thought of texting with my match again tonight.
But first, I had groceries to buy, dogs to walk, and biscuit recipes to test. No rest for the wicked—or the small-town entrepreneur, apparently. If I wanted to open a gourmet dog treat bakery, I had to build up a clientele, which meant developing recipes, testing them on Lady and Tramp—along with friends’ dogs—and establishing enough demand I could persuade my family to lend me start-up capital.
By nine p.m., the entire kitchen smelled of apples and cinnamon. I also had bananas and yogurt, and chicken, beef, and bacon prepped for two other recipes.
My phone buzzed, andPrince Charmingflashed on the screen.
My heart leapt at the little nickname I’d given my match.Finally!
Prince Charming:
Hey, is it too late to text?I don’t know what time you go to bed.
Me:
Picturing me in bed already, huh? Naughty!
Prince Charming:
You caught me, lol
Me:
