Page 35 of Forbidden to Fall

As we gorged ourselves on steak, mashed potatoes, and asparagus, I attempted to force Archer to acknowledge that the food alone had made our attendance worthwhile. He responded with a distracted affirmative answer.

I followed his gaze and smiled when I realized what had gotten him that way.

Juliet Monroe, the mayor’s daughter, was sitting a few tables away.

I cleared my throat—to no effect. “Too bad there are absolutely no pretty or interesting single women here tonight…”

“Yeah…” he mumbled, still not paying attention.

I thought about jabbing him with my elbow but decided against it when I saw a couple of Wade’s students walk in. I glanced at Wade, but he was too busy flirting up a storm with Ari. It was…a lot, honestly.

A good time for me to do some prep work with the students.

I scooted my chair out. “I’ll be right back.”

It took a few minutes for me to brief Wade’s students on what they’d need to do, and then Ethan walked in late, so I had to start over. Just as I was finishing round two, one of the caterers asked the students if they wanted some dinner, since there was plenty. Anything I still needed to say was drowned out by nearly audible teenage salivation, so I told them I’d be back in fifteen minutes to start the prep.

I weaved my way through the tables toward Archer but winked at him and made a U-turn when I saw him with Juliet. Atta boy.

I looked around to see how many people were still eating. Most, but I had a feeling the dessert service would creep up on me faster than I wanted it to. I might as well get started. Heaven knew it had been difficult enough for Mrs. Keller to leave the evening to me—she was picking up her daughter from the airport. I had to make sure the dessert left a good taste in everyone’s mouths, literally and figuratively.

I headed back to the prep area, where the students were finishing up their plates of food.

“Once you’re done,” I said, “go ahead and put your dirty plates in the sink, then we’ll get an assembly line going. Once the cheesecake is cut, it needs to be plated, then I’ll do the glazing and let you know when we’re ready to start serving.”

Glazing was the step that required the most artistry, and Mrs. Keller would want photo evidence of the dessert presentation. She’d been highly opposed to allowing high school students near anything associated with the bakery. Only my firm assurances that they would be minimally involved and the realization that we’d have to refuse the event otherwise had led to her relenting.

Ethan scarfed down the last bits of his food as I handed the cheesecakes into the hands of the other three, one by one.

“So good,” he said through a full mouth as he slipped his plate onto the other dirty ones.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” I said as I grabbed for the two squeeze containers of glaze. “Would you bring the dessert plates from that far cupboard?” I stopped, frowning, then looked around. “Where’s the other glaze?”

Ethan was stacking his arms full of dessert plates—way too high—but he stopped.

“Is this it?” Diego asked, picking up a bottle by the sink.

Once upon a time twenty minutes ago, it had been full. Now there was about a quarter of it left.

My heart hammered. “What? What happened?”

All three of the honor roll students’ eyes went to Ethan.

His mouth opened as his eyes darted from them to me. “I…didn’t know it was part of the dessert. It was just…out on the counter.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “What happened to it?”

His shoulders lifted. “I like some sweet with my steak. To balance it out.”

I stared at him. “You used almost an entire bottle of maple glaze on eight ounces of filet mignon?”

“No,” he hurried to say.

I looked at him, waiting for him to expound.

“I like it on mashed potatoes too,” he elaborated. “What?! I’m a salty-sweet guy.”

I could hear my pulse. Or maybe it was Mrs. Keller’s disappointment pounding in my ears. It sounded a lot like my future at the bakery fluttering away on the breeze.