Robin finally looked at Sammy. She couldn’t hold back the nervous laughter anymore. They both erupted. “That was…something else.” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Suddenly her knees gave out, and she braced herself against the counter. “I thought the inspector was bad enough. Then the oven…talk about going out with a bang. I sure made an impression.”
“You did great,” he said. “Want me to look at this oven? I can check it more closely if you want.”
“That would be great. I’ll figure out how to reset the electrical breaker for the building.” She grabbed the binder again and flipped to the correct page. “I hope it was just the heating element. I really should think about buying a new oven, but the bakery can’t afford to spend several thousand dollars right now. I’m just glad it broke after I finished baking for the morning. Well, almost finished. I have a pan of coffee cake I’d hoped to bake.” She realized she was babbling, but the release of shock kept her mouth moving.
“We can’t have a good coffee cake go to waste. Let me see what I can do.”
Before she could protest—but really, was she going to?—Sammy slipped out of his jacket and tugged the huge oven a few more inches away from the wall. He poked around for a few moments. She found the instructions for resetting the breaker, and soon she got the lights on again.
“I’m going to need my tools.” Sammy passed by her and out to his bike. A waft of his aftershave tightened her belly. Sammy sure had smelling good going for him.
She came back in and tried to stay occupied as he tinkered with the inner workings of the oven, but the bakery remained quiet, and there was only so much busywork she could do. The bakery was strangely devoid of customers, so she didn’t even have sales to distract her. She found herself staring at Sammy’s green Henley, slim jeans, and broad shoulders more often than she would like to admit.
What if he couldn’t get the oven fixed? Did needing a new oven count as an emergency? Maybe she should be calling her grandparents. She drummed her fingers on the worktop.
Sammy pushed the oven back toward the wall. He dusted his hands together. “I think I got it now. I put the old heating element back in, and the oven is turning on. This happens sometimes when the element doesn’t quite fit correctly. This will only be temporary, though. It looks like you will either need all new parts or an all-new oven.”
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.” A tight muscle in her back loosened. One problem postponed.
“Do you have a ShopVac somewhere? I’ll clean out this glass and get it back in service.”
Robin helped Sammy clean out the oven and the powder from the fire extinguisher. “Thank you, Sam,” she said. “You have an uncanny knack for walking in right when I need you.”
He looked into her eyes. “I have a Spidey sense for when you need my special skills.”
Gulp. Was it hot in here? Must be the oven’s preheat cycle. “Should we start on the next batch of bread?”
“Yep. It’s baguette day, right?”
“You’re in luck. I finished those before the oven conked out. You won’t have to learn the trickiest bread to make until another day. Let me get this coffee cake in first.” She slid the pan into the now-hot oven. “It should be ready just in time for a break. We’ll share a slice.” Wasn’t she supposed to be cooling things off between them? Offering a man her fresh-baked goods was not cooling off. But what was she supposed to do when he kept rescuing her?
“Sounds like a plan.”
“We make a good team—as friends, I mean.” She couldn’t look him in the eye.
“Right.” His voice was flat.
Rats. But that’s what she wanted, right?
* * *
Sammy madehis last delivery and took a deep breath. The heaviness in his chest stayed put. He checked his watch. Time for him to get to the youth center. He’d promised to be the judge for a Ping-Pong tournament after school today.
The trip to Duluth on Sunday with Robin hadn’t felt like a drive between friends. And when they’d baked bread together yesterday, he’d kept being reminded of how he and Robin could work well together. They had an easy friendship that wouldn’t take much fanning to blaze into love. And then at the bank, Fran Turner had said something about building a home with the rest of his money.
He’d tossed and turned all last night. Not with a nightmare this time, but fighting off dreams of a snug log cabin, his arm around Robin in front of a roaring fire. He still had the land outside of town even though Nathan Decker kept pestering him to sell.
A nice dream, but the conversation at the bakery threw cold water all over his passion.As friends, I mean.Robin’s words stuck in his mind like a stubborn knot in a piece of wood marring the surface.
He swung a leg over his bike and pushed off, his gloves gripping the handles. The late, bright sun warmed his face. As he rode to the youth center, he dodged here and there, avoiding the snow that had melted into slush piles. The warm spell wouldn’t last, but it was nice while it was here.
He coasted into the driveway of the youth center as a minivan pulled in. Ronnie Dahlquist, her husband Peter, with his distinctive dark hair and beard, and her brother Tiago piled out.
“Hi, Mr. Johnson,” Tiago called and then raced for the front door.
“T! Manners!” Ronnie called after him. Ronnie wore her long hair pulled up in a high ponytail. The Latina woman was good for Peter Dahlquist. She kept him on his toes.
“It’s no problem.” Sammy wheeled his bike into place in the fish-shaped rack he’d built last fall after the old one had fallen apart. Scales formed the slats for the bike tires, and he’d given the whole thing several layers of sealant until it shone.
