by Lacey Baker
“Keep me posted,” Linda said before hanging up.
Taylor was stuffing her phone back into her pocket when Josephine asked, “Taylor what happened?”
“Annabelle dropped me. The competition starts tomorrow. I need to find another baker, fast.”
That was all the explanation Taylor gave before hurrying back to the office.
At almost four in the afternoon Taylor was on her tenth call.
“Look, I totally understand it’s a busy time of year for bakers, but it’s for a good cause.” She paused briefly to remember the pitch she’d been reciting all afternoon to one baker after another. “And a giant gingerbread house. I mean, come on. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
Rubbing the back of her neck, she tried to keep her smile in place and prayed her tone was still upbeat and personable.
The baker turned her down, anyway.
“Of course,” she replied, disappointment like a familiar slap in the face at this point. “I’m sorry to bother you. Merry Christmas.”
Time to scratch another name off the list. After hanging up the phone, she did just that, with more gusto than was probably necessary.
But she would not be defeated. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the phone and dialed another number. Her gaze went to the cherub-like Santa on the edge of her desk.
“Hello? Le Gateau? Hi! Yes. This is Taylor Scott again, um, I was wondering if you’d reconsider… Hello?” Did he just hang up on her? “Hello?”
Are you kidding? Was that what people did at Christmastime? Hang up on other people because they happen to call back to ask a question they’d asked—more like begged—an hour ago? How could that be possible?
Taylor frowned and hung up the phone seconds before Linda walked by.
“Any leads?” she asked hopefully.
Taylor gave her a thumbs up, because again, she was not going to admit defeat. There was a way to fix this and she was determined to find it.
She was a troubleshooter by nature; that was what made her good at supervising projects. If there was an issue, Taylor could evaluate it and find a solution. There was never any doubt in her mind about that…when she was on a normal architecture project. But this gingerbread house contest was anything but normal. And it was the biggest obstacle in her career at the moment.
Sitting back in her chair and moving so that it started to spin slightly could be a way to spark an idea. Or not. But then the Santa on her desk once again caught her eye. She stared at him a few seconds, wondering if she were being childish or silly. This was no time for games. Then again, what did she have to lose?
“Come on, Santa, can’t you grant me an early wish this year?”
She tried not to take the non-response personally.
“Any luck?” Josephine asked from her desk on the other side of the cubicle.
Taylor turned in her seat. “Not yet. And I’ve already called half the bakeries in town.”
Josephine frowned. “So what will you do?”
Glancing back at her desk, she saw the wrapper to the cupcake she’d eaten while she was making her list of bakeries to call. She picked it up.
“Josephine, what bakery did you use for the Christmas party?” Yes, the delivery guy had been rude, but the red velvet cake had tasted delicious.
Josephine left her desk and now stood at the entrance of Taylor’s cubicle. “Ray’s Bakery. Why?”
She had an idea. Dangling the cupcake holder between her fingers she grinned. “’Cause desperate times call for desperate measuring cups.”
Josephine stared blankly. “Did you just make a baking joke?”
“Never mind.” Taylor stood to grab her coat. “I’ll call you later.”
The first thing Taylor noticed when she walked into Ray’s Bakery were the delectable scents. Fresh baked bread, cinnamon, and sugar aromas wafted through the air. It was like a preamble to the picture-perfect line-up in the display case. While chocolate was her favorite decadence, the iced pastries looked divine. Huge muffins stood in straight lines while rows of cupcakes in a rainbow of icing colors marched up and down the row beneath. On the other side of the case were cookies and cakes and in seconds Taylor could feel herself gaining weight from simply staring at all the treats.
But she wasn’t here to purchase anything to eat. She had an agenda and she remained focused on that alone.
“Be out in a minute!” someone from the back yelled.
There was no one in line, just a little girl sitting at a white table who appeared to be doing schoolwork. It was a nice-looking bakery with five sets of table and chairs and a glass storefront with Ray’s Bakery in frosted white letters on the window. She’d used every bit of her control to not become mesmerized by the contents of the display case.
Instrumental Christmas carols played lightly, and she hummed along with “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.” Her humming was apparently so loud the little girl sitting at the table looked up at her. She was a pretty child with chubby cheeks and thick brown hair styled in two afro puffs. Caught, Taylor covered her mouth and whispered “Sorry!”
The little girl chuckled and shook her head before going back to her work. Taylor returned her attention to the display—this time a little more quietly—and admired the poinsettia-themed design scheme that started with a few bulbs and a bunch of the holiday flowers twined into a thick thatch of fresh garland. Even if Christmas decorations weren’t so much her thing, she loved flowers, and poinsettias were among her favorites.
The delivery guy came out carrying a tray of cookies. He immediately leaned over to slide them into the display case, so he didn’t see her until he stood up.
“Yes,” he said. “How can I help you?”
The words seemed to slow as his lips dipped into a frown, telling her he wasn’t happy to see her. To tell the truth, she wasn’t all that thrilled to see him, either.
“Oh no, it’s you,” was his follow-up line before he glanced over at the little girl. “Brooke, hide the cakes.”
Taylor pasted on her best smile.
“Are you Ray?” She really hoped he wasn’t the baker she needed to help her win this competition. This guy, as annoying as he still seemed, was actually more alluring than she’d recalled. He had wary yet kind root-beer-colored eyes, which she’d glimpsed when he talked to the little girl, and a rich sepia brown complexion. But his looks didn’t matter. What mattered was talking to Ray and getting him to help her.
Clearly she had to go through this guy first. “Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot the other day.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” he said and walked around the display case until they were standing in front of each other.
Taylor frowned, but before she could reply, the little girl, Brooke, was up from her seat and coming to stand next to them.
“Daddy, you told me to always be nice to customers,” she said.
Taylor couldn’t help but smile at how cute she was with her two puffed ponytails. She was equally impressed with her when Brooke extended a hand for Taylor to shake and said, “Hi. I’m Brooke. Welcome to Ray’s.”
Taylor happily accepted her hand for a shake. “Nice to meet you, Brooke. I’m Taylor.”
Satisfied that introduction may have changed his attitude toward her, Taylor turned her attention back to him.
He was still frowning, but he did say, “How can I help you?”
“I need to speak with Ray.”
“I’m Adam. I work for Ray. He’s not here.”
So if you’re looking for him, you can be on your way. He didn’t say those words, but definitely looked like he wanted to.
It just dawned on her that he was putting cookies and cupcakes onto the shelves, not carrying boxes out of the bakery to be delivered. “Did you make that Christmas tree cake? And those amazing red velvet cupcakes? Or did Ray?”
&
nbsp; “Yeah, that’s all me,” he said nodding his head.
That wasn’t good. Or rather, it was, since he was here for her to speak to about the competition. She’d just have to try and get him to forget about what happened yesterday.
Even though she wasn’t totally sure she could. It had been a very long time since a guy stayed on her mind all night.
“And obviously you have a lot of experience with baking. Cookies. Icing. Decorating.” Her practiced pitch began to roll smoothly off her tongue.
“My dad can make anything.” Brooke spoke up as if she were a live commercial.
“Ever make a gingerbread house?”
Brooke was ready with another answer. “Dad made a whole gingerbread village one year.”
Encouraged, she pressed on. This has to work! “And what about a giant gingerbread house? Big enough to stand in? Could you make one of those?”
“I’m not sure I understand.” As he peered at her, she couldn’t help but think about Josephine’s words. Had he been staring at her yesterday? Because he certainly didn’t look besotted now.
“Look, I’m an architect, and I’m representing my firm in the City’s Giant Gingerbread House Competition. Seeing that it needs to be at least eighty percent edible, I need a baker to team up with. And I’m thinking that should be you.”
His smile was slow, but genuine…and sort of sweet.
The fact that he was also shaking his head in the negative was not so cool.
“I’m flattered.” He looked at Brooke and then up to Taylor again. “But I don’t have a lot of spare time.”
“But, Dad, it sounds so fun,” Brooke insisted.
Please listen to Brooke!
“Don’t you have homework to do?” Adam asked, not really swayed by his daughter’s comments. “That table right there has got your name on it. And keep your paws off the Christmas cupcakes. I got eyes in the back of my head,” he warned with just the slightest tinge of humor.
Brooke giggled and hurried away. Taylor liked the sound of the little girl’s laughter, but immediately pressed on.
“Look, you have a gift. That cake was amazing and obviously you’re a great pastry chef.”
“I’m just a baker.”
He was sweet to his daughter, and modest.
“‘Just a baker’ could not make that amazing Christmas tree cake.” It took a few seconds to realize she meant those words. Despite the mess he’d made of her plans, the cake had been spectacular in taste and design.
“That was just a passion project my boss lets me do every now and then. This doesn’t really fit our clientele. I’m here to crank out the donuts and the muffins.”
Those last words sounded like a pledge he recited to himself every day.
He looked over Taylor’s shoulder to the line that had formed while they were talking. “And speaking of which… I’ll be with you folks in just a few seconds.”
She looked back then turned her attention to him once more.
“But you have to do it.” She was pleading—very close to begging, but whatever, it was what needed to be done. “There’ll be prestige. Christmas spirit. Something for your free time.”
He laughed. “Free time? That’s something I don’t have.”
Desperate beyond measure at this point, she leaned in and whispered. “But I’ll be in a terrible situation if you say no.”
Again, that not-impressed look crossed his face. It was followed by a lift of his brow and a hint of amusement. None of which should have been appealing to her in any way.
“Are you trying to guilt me?”
“I don’t know.” She actually contemplated that question for a second. Guilt hadn’t been part of her original pitch, but… “Is it working?”
“To guilt someone you have to know them and ah…well, we don’t—”
“Fine. I’m a Sagittarius and I love peppermint bark.” This was taking too long and she didn’t have time to waste.
“Still no.” He looked around her again. “Ms. Mason. Cherry Danish as usual?”
Taylor glanced over her shoulder to see the woman nod.
She tried again because there was no other option. What was she going to do if he didn’t agree? Bake her own gingerbread? “Ah, but it would be great exposure. I mean everyone around the world could see your talents. Our local news will definitely be there, and you know people are constantly recording on their phones. Who knows? It could go viral.”
“I have a line,” he insisted.
She made the mistake of looking back to see that the line was getting longer. Desperate as she was, she still didn’t want to cost the bakery any business. She pulled off her glove and handed him her card. “Here. In case you change your mind.”
Adam took the card. She couldn’t tell if he was just being polite or if he was actually going to consider her offer. But she’d given her pitch, so it was time to go. She walked away from the counter, offering the people in line an apologetic smile as she moved toward the table where Brooke was sitting. The girl had just snagged a red velvet cupcake from a stand behind her.
“Nice to meet you, Brooke. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” Brooke replied.
Taylor left Ray’s Bakery without a baker.
Chapter Five
It was an insane offer.
And she was a persistent and unpredictable woman.
Brooke said she had a pretty smile.
Those thoughts and many more competed for attention throughout the remainder of the day. When he gave a customer a red velvet cupcake instead of the blueberry bagel she’d ordered, Adam knew he was in trouble.
Was he really considering this? He couldn’t. He was a simple baker, working the job that paid the bills while allowing him to do the two most important things in his life—take care of his daughter and bake.
“The idea is totally ridiculous.”
He was leaning against the counter in his kitchen with the woman’s business card in had. That proved the conflicting thoughts had followed him home.
“You’ve been twirling that card all evening.” Jenny looked up from where she stood on the other side of the island. “And Brooke can’t stop talking about the Giant Gingerbread Competition.”
He hadn’t meant to speak his thoughts aloud. Especially not after he’d officially put an end to the family discussion of the gingerbread competition during dinner. Jenny was right; Brooke couldn’t stop talking about it. The excitement in her voice when she relayed the entire scene from the bakery to Jenny had caused Adam even more indecision. What parent didn’t want to do whatever made their child appear so eager and excited?
“I can’t. I got a job. I’ve got responsibilities.”
“You also have a life. One which you’ve been neglecting since Cheryl died.”
His fingers stilled on the card at the sound of her name, lips setting in a line while the remnants of grief tugged at his soul. “I’m taking care of our daughter.”
Jenny nodded, her chin-length black hair swishing with the motion.
“You used to do that when Cheryl was here, too. And you still invited all the family over during the summer to eat tons of barbeque and fresh biscuits and visit. You were on a bowling league with those guys from the barber shop, and you used to go for a jog every night after dinner.”
“Are you trying to tell me I’m out of shape?” The question was meant to take the serious edge off this conversation. Instead, it solidified the lump forming in his throat. There was no lie in what she said.
With a tilt of her head and quirk of her lips Jenny gave the perfect “I’m serious” look, and his fingers tightened on the card. He glanced down at it again seeing her name in bold black letters. TAYLOR SCOTT.
Pretty. Determined. Courageous.
“Brooke said this architect told you that the competiti
on would be great exposure. That it would show the world your talents. What if it also showed those investors?” His sister had a pinch of determination as well.
“You know that meeting did not go well. I could never go back to them without a culinary degree.”
“Why would you need a degree if you had a gigantic gingerbread house under your belt?”
It made sense, from a very basic point of view. If he could make a giant gingerbread house, didn’t it stand to reason he had superior baking skills, which could translate into big sales for a bakery he owned? The instinctive answer would be yes. But Adam wasn’t certain Nick Brexley and his partners would feel the same way.
“Adam, don’t you want Brooke to see you doing something that makes you happy, the way you used to be?”
“How would I find the time to do this? Business at the bakery is crazy busy with the holidays coming up and all these orders for office parties to fill.”
“Ray’s sons are in town to help him through the holidays. And you do have weeks of unused vacation,” she told him. “I really think you should take this opportunity, Adam.”
He couldn’t believe he was even considering this. But looking at Jenny right now, listening to her very convincing pitch, reminded him a lot of their mother.
There was no way Gloria would allow him to pass up an opportunity like this. And if she was here instead of in North Carolina where his parents currently lived, his mother would probably call Taylor and accept the job for him if she had to. The thought made him chuckle. He tapped the card in the palm of his other hand before heading into the living room to grab the phone.
Quickly dialing the number before his mind could shift again, he listened while it rang, heart thumping with each droning sound.
“This is Taylor.” She answered the second he contemplated hanging up.
“Hey. This is Adam. The Christmas tree cake guy.” Yeah, that sounded very professional.
“Oh. That Adam. The one who turned me down. How could I forget?” She didn’t sound excited to hear from him.
He supposed he could chalk that up to how nonchalant he’d been with her earlier today. A direct result of their very first encounter. But this was a new conversation, a fresh start for him—in more ways than one.
