“I did change it, a tweak to the spice mixture. Thanks for noticing. You finish those, and I’ll get started on moving things around. He nodded his agreement and she hurried into the front of the shop. She needed a reprieve from his handsome eyes and troubling presence. Unfortunately, her heart hadn’t forgotten her attraction to him in the years since he’d ditched her.
She reminded herself the past was water under the bridge. They’d both been young. He’d been susceptible to peer pressure, and she’d been self-conscious and over-eager to catch a boyfriend. A dangerous combination. She wasn’t going to give in to her current attraction, even if he smelled deliciously of soap and spices. They were adults now. They could work together and forget their troubled history.
She hoped.
She took a few minutes to talk to the mayor, agreeing to take Darius on as a partner. Surely the small act of charity would be rewarded by karma at some point. She left Julianna to take care of the short line of customers and gathered her first load of supplies and hurried toward the back.
“Best tarts, ever,” Darius praised as they returned to the kitchen. “I’ll take a dozen of the meat ones to go. I know they’ll freeze well, so I can have a fix anytime I want one.”
Working in quiet unison, they carried everything to the new workspace, a gleaming stainless-steel table, four feet square, with two shelves below it.
With everything in place, she pulled out her sketch book. She used this book for many purposes, for work and for more personal things. Once upon a time, when she’d been engaged, she’d even started designing her own wedding cake. Darius didn’t need to see anything but gingerbread. Keeping the private pages from his view, she flipped through until she found the start of her gingerbread ideas.
“This is the beginning.” She folded the spiral bound book back on itself and laid it on the table and slid it toward him. “Go ahead and flip forward. Seeing the idea morph might help you visualize what I was going for.”
He took his time, carefully studying the sketches, sometimes flipping back a page or two as if reviewing the previous pictures. The first time he flipped, her breath caught in her throat and she prayed he didn’t flip backward. Her sketches and dreams were personal.
He turned each page without lifting the book from the table which removed the chance of him seeing the pages she’d folded back. Perhaps he realized she didn’t want him snooping at earlier pages. Tension eased from her shoulders.
He stopped and tapped the sixth design. “I like this tower concept. You could change it from square to round and add a few more in varying heights to increase appeal from all sides.”
He was right, she had added more towers. “Keep flipping until you get to the end. I did add more towers, but I didn’t think of making them round. I’m not sure how to do that. It’s difficult enough with straight lines.”
“Could you wrap the hot cookie around a tube as soon as it comes out of the oven?” he asked. “You’d have to work quickly.”
“Wrap and trim and hold until cool? That doesn’t sound easy, but it’s worth a try. Let’s go ahead and test that. I can walk you through my trial runs as we bake. What would we wrap it around? We need a template for the shape. The dough swells a bit, so we’ll have to cut it down quickly once it’s out of the oven.” She pulled ingredients from the cupboard as she talked. “We’re using an old family recipe.”
“Your grandmother’s, I assume?” He carried a large mixer from a counter and plugged it in on the island. “Those were the best gingerbread cookies ever. I’ve tried to duplicate the recipe, but I haven’t quite gotten it right.”
“Why don’t you go get another coffee while I mix? Then I won’t have to worry about you stealing my secret,” she teased.
He froze in his tracks and gave her a serious look. “I swear, on my business and my mother’s life, I will never share your recipe or use it for commercial purposes. Though I might use the cookies I make with it to sway others to my opinions.” He crossed his heart. “I promise.”
He looked ninety-nine percent earnest, but there was a twinkle in his eye.
“Scout’s honor?” She wasn’t truly worried. She was pretty sure the recipe came from a magazine or cookbook, but every year, her grandmother had won the prize for the best tasting gingerbread at the competition. She’d been champion until the competition changed from tasting cookies to include constructing increasingly elaborate houses. Last year, the winner had created Toronto’s CN Tower. “I don’t want you competing against me with my own recipe next year.”
“I won’t.” This time, he was dead serious. “Besides, we’re going to win this year, and be the team to beat next year.”
“I can live with that.” They high fived and got busy prepping a fresh batch of batter.
They worked quietly, side by side, Darius seemed to anticipate her needs. After culinary school and multiple jobs in the industry, she’d gotten used to working with pros who knew what came next. Julianna was her best friend, but was a bit of a klutz in the kitchen. She was great with customers and kept the front end in line, making her worth every penny of her wage. In the kitchen, she was a great cook, but a dreadful baker. She’d been more Poppy’s gofer than a true creative partner for the contest, but they had managed to bake their way into third place last year.
“How about this?” Poppy asked, holding an empty paper towel roll. “If we cover it in aluminum foil, we can try and roll the hot cookie around it.”
Darius looked thoughtful. “It could work. Let’s make a template first, then after the cookie swells in the oven, you can trim the excess quickly enough to get it around the tube before it starts to harden.”
The first three tries were epic failures. The tube kept crushing until they filled it with wadded up paper towel to add stability. Watching the fourth attempt slide off the upright tube, Poppy laughed herself silly. “Oh my gosh,” she exclaimed once she caught her breath. “We’re idiots! Why don’t we put the tube on the cookie and roll it up rather than rolling the cookie onto the tube?”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“No. We’ve been working vertically; we can do it horizontally. Roll it flat on the table and hold it in place until it cools. That way, it isn’t sliding off or crumbling under its own weight.”
Darius joined her laugher. His deep booming laugh echoed off the tiled kitchen walls and ricocheted straight into her heart. She always had loved the way he laughed without caring what other people thought. “We might just get this yet,” he said and starting rolling a fresh sheet of dough. She watched his hands as he rolled. His hands were sure and steady. She’d almost swear he cared about the dough. He treated it with a lover’s caress.
She slammed a mental door on the thought of his hands on her body. She was over that silly childhood crush. She had no interest in him. None.Well, maybe just a little.
Once again, they cut the dough with their template. They would use the same carboard shape to trim the cookie as soon as it was hot.
