Chapter Twelve
“Thanks again,” Poppy said, wishing Darius would put his arm back around her. She’d felt so safe, so protected there. He’d pulled her close and protected her without a second of thought. It warmed her heart. His simple, seemingly heartfelt words had moved the crowd. They’d agreed with him, nodded and cheered her and Darius on.
She wasn’t naive enough to think their support would move the judges, that would be foolish, but it was nice to know her friends and customers had her back, metaphorically speaking.
But Darius, at this rate, was going to steal her heart. She shivered with a small thrill, just thinking of his kindness. He was a good man. He’d come a long way since he screamed out of town on his motorbike. Not that she’d actually witnessed his departure.
She’d been holed up at home, broken hearted, eating ice cream alone in bed, in a ridiculously expensive prom dress. The dress her mother had taken her to the city to purchase, after Darius invited her to the dance, three days earlier. She’d spent every penny she could spare on it. The only money she hadn’t devoted to the dress was her culinary school tuition. Thank heaven she hadn’t wasted that, or she’d have lost her career along with her pride and her heart.
She shook off the thoughts. That boy was gone, as was that girl. They were older, wiser and kinder. And she wanted to get to know him better.
She smiled at Darius, hoping he couldn’t read her expression.
“That’s my girl,” Darius praised, gathering up their food wrappers and disposing of them.
“Your girl?” she chirped.
He grinned. “Get baking, cookie.”
“Seriously, did you just go there? Bad food jokes?” She rolled her eyes and started kneading the bag of icing she’d prepared earlier. Time to stack some small cookies.
“That’s not a bad food joke. Want to hear a bad food joke?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “Why didn’t the sesame seed want to leave the casino? Because he was on a roll.”
His chuckle made her laugh. “Stop right there.” She held up an icing covered hand.
“Are you sure? I know some eggscellent food jokes. I’m not yolking.”
“Where is this coming from? These are the worst jokes I’ve ever heard. Stick a cookie on here, will ya?” She nodded toward the tower she was steadying with one hand. The oven timer dinged. “Oh no. I can’t let go. Can you take those out and trim them? It’s the tower pieces.”
He carefully set a cookie on top of her tower and turned to the oven.
“No, wait, I have an idea. Hold this. I want to try something.” If she planned it right, she could cut and wrap cone shapes to give the towers’ pointier tops. He held the stack long enough for the icing to set and hurried to help Poppy trim and wrap the tower cookies before they cooled too much.
Working in unison, they built layer after layer of gingerbread until the base form was complete. Six round towers surrounded a square center comprised of two layers. Through the open castle door, you could see inside to a room filled with open chests. She’d be filling those chests with shiny candies to represent treasure. The castle walls were notched at the top to represent brickwork. All that was left was the icing and final candy placement. Finishing touches would include gingerbread men decorated like knights and cookies shaped as their horses. The crowing touch was a gingerbread girl, decorated like a medieval princess, complete with conical hat.
“It’s incredible,” she whispered, half afraid saying it out loud would curse their success.
“Yes, it is,” Darius agreed loudly, obviously not superstitious. I’m ready to ice.”
Icing bags filled, they attached the proper tips and began the tedious task of applying the designs they’d sketched in advance. Standing on opposite sides of the counter, they set to work.
The sweet, sticky scent of the icing was balanced by the spicy zest of the fresh gingerbread. The busy sounds of the spectators filing past the kitchens became a background drone as they concentrated. Neither spoke, yet there was a palpable companionship between them. Pausing to rest her hands, Poppy set her bag down on the table and watched Darius work. A slight frown furrowed his brow. He moved slowly and precisely. She peeked around to his side. Each and every line was perfect. He must have been practicing. Not that she could figure out where he found the time. His dedication impressed her.
He looked up, his gaze tangled with hers, somehow stealing her breath. Mesmerized by the smile lighting his face, she struggled to turn away and focus on the project and not the sudden urge to kiss him.
Sudden. Right.
She’d been dreaming about kissing him from the moment he walked into her office. He had an irresistible magnetism. It wasn’t just his charm and good looks she was falling for; it was the easy companionship they shared. They could talk about literally anything. They didn’t always agree, but easily agreed to disagree on political matters. He gave generously to charity and she’d seen him assist more than one older lady with her groceries. He shoveled snow all along their business block without asking for recognition. She wouldn’t have even known it was Darius if she hadn’t glanced out the front window early yesterday and caught him in the act.
She was hoping their elaborate castle would bring in more than last year’s top entry. If she wanted to achieve that lofty goal, she’d better get back to work and stop thinking about the crowd and Darius’s handsome face.
“We’ve got this,” she whispered under her breath. “I just need to focus.”
“Do you always talk to yourself?” Darius asked with a wink.
Waves of warmth washed over her, like hot icing over a cookie. Hot, sweet and all encompassing. “Sometimes,” she admitted with a shrug. “I’m motivating myself.” It was silly, but it worked. Self motivation, visualization, pep talks, all that woo-woo stuff. Things she’d never believed in that had helped her change her life.
“Good to know. I’m ready to start placing candies. Or should I start decorating people? I’m good with either.”
