by Lacey Baker
She watched as he casually moved away from her to a table where coffee had already been brewed. He poured the liquid into two white mugs and brought one back to her.
“Thank you,” she said before accepting the mug. “So you always make your own coffee?”
Adam nodded and watched her take a sip. “It’s the most important tool we’ve got. And we may have a bunch of sleepy volunteers arriving this morning.”
Taylor sipped the coffee and was surprised at how good it tasted. “Mmmmm.” She looked down at the mug and then up to him. “Okay. I see your point.”
She also saw how kind he was. When he’d first met her—at the Ogilvy offices—she’d snapped at him. And here he was, helping her out of a bind, anyway. Sure, she’d sold him on the fact that the competition would gain him some exposure, and that would certainly help him if he were truly looking to start his own bakery. But at the same time, he’d owed her nothing. He wasn’t being paid to do it, and there was a possibility that they would lose. In that case, the exposure for him might not be that good.
Well, she wasn’t about to let that happen. Taylor wanted to win, and she wanted that win to boost both their careers.
“Now, let’s finish the base. Then we can start shopping for ingredients if we want to start baking,” he said.
They were standing much closer than they had been before. His dark brown eyes seemed a little darker, and maybe a touch warmer, than she remembered them being yesterday.
Talk about work. Winning this competition is important for both of you. The rest is foolish nonsense.
“I assume you have a shopping list,” she said while fully intending to listen to that voice in her head.
“Sure I do.” He pointed to his temple. “It’s right up here.”
Taylor looked at him skeptically. Lists are what kept her repeatedly on budget in her projects. “No list? Doesn’t that seem a little off the cuff?”
“I got a couple things written down, but you gotta leave room for inspiration.”
He sounded so convinced that his way was the right way. “Inspiration sounds expensive.” She walked over to the table and set her mug down. “I think I’ll tag along.”
Because she wanted to make sure he didn’t overspend on his inspiration. Not because she’d liked standing that close to him.
The restaurant supply store they went to looked like a warehouse that was stocked from the top shelves, at least fifty feet off the floor, to the bottom. Blue signs with white numbers identified the aisles, while a map Taylor had snagged from the basket when they first entered helped them navigate.
“Aisle 12 row E; that’s where we should find the baking items,” she said while looking down at the map. Adam had secured one of those flatbed carts and was maneuvering it expertly while they walked.
“We’ll start at the beginning of aisle 10 and work our way down. There are different items I need and some aren’t specifically geared toward baking.”
She followed his lead because shopping for food items was not on the top of her things-perfected list. In fact, since she’d returned from L.A., she’d been telling herself she was going to get to the grocery store to grab a few things. After her conversation with Adam last night, she’d felt the need to make that trip a little sooner. She could prepare a home-cooked meal if she had the time. Or if she made the time.
“If you employ this ‘wander around’ type of strategy you’re more likely to overspend. Let’s just focus on what we need to get the batter made.” She purposely changed her tone to give more of a suggestion instead of a command.
“You cannot plan everything. Sometimes it’s best to let things flow and see where they lead you.” He turned down aisle 9 instead of 10 and Taylor frowned.
“I like plans. I like order, and I like the predicted results that come when I’ve done exactly what I set out to do.”
“And do you ever manage to have fun in between all those plans and goals?”
He stopped, reached up onto a shelf she would have never been able to get to on her own because he was a good bit taller than her, and grabbed two large white tubs.
“I have plenty of fun.” Taylor tried to ignore the slight sting of his very accurate words. In the last couple of months her idea of fun had been the few hours she’d managed to step away from the project in L.A. to go shopping. “But I also know the value of hard work.”
“So do I.” He turned the corner to go down the next aisle. “Watch!”
Never in a million years would she have guessed what was about to happen. But in the next few seconds Adam took a couple steps and then broke out into a run, his hands firmly on the handle of the cart. When he stepped up onto the back bar of the cart and proceeded to take a ride along the coasting wagon, Taylor held her breath. Then she covered her mouth to stifle a grin as the store manager turned the corner just in time to scowl at him when he almost crashed into a display. By the time she came to the other end of the aisle, he was jumping down off the cart.
“Now that was fun! My friends and I used to do that in the supermarket parking lot when we were kids. Until our mothers caught us one day and made us come back to the store during closing to make sure all the carts were neatly stacked for customers the next day.” He laughed and stepped away from the cart. “You wanna try it?”
Taylor couldn’t help but laugh, too, because she could imagine a younger Adam doing exactly what he’d just done but going much faster outside in a parking lot. “Oh no,” she replied with a brisk shake of her head. “That’s a little too much fun for me.”
She felt a twinge of admiration at how easily he’d been able to let go and do exactly what he’d wanted, when he wanted to…but that would remain her secret. Did that make her dull or too uptight? It probably meant he was right: she didn’t make the time to stop and just have fun. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted to until that very moment.
“Okay, back to work,” he announced and they made their way down the remaining aisles.
Forty-five minutes and a completely full cart later, they were standing in the check-out line.
“You must come here often,” she said. Adam had known exactly where to go in this mammoth store. He was also very familiar with the check-out process because he’d bypassed the self-checkout stating the machines at that end didn’t allow businesses to use their discount card without calling a staff member to assist. He figured it made more sense to just get in a clerk-assisted line and enjoy a little cordial conversation while he made his purchases.
The self-checkout lines were shorter, but she didn’t say that.
“I’m here at least twice a month. Ray’s getting a little older so I like to do as much as I can to help out.”
Fun. Helpful, compassionate.
It hadn’t occurred to her that there were men like this around. Not like her ex, with his careless, callous breakup talk.
It was finally their turn and they stepped up to the register. The clerk came from around the little area where he’d been standing with a scan gun in hand.
“Hello. Nice day for shopping,” he said cheerfully.
“It’s a better day for Christmas shopping, but sometimes work overrules.” Adam jokingly thrust a thumb over his shoulder in Taylor’s direction and the clerk looked over to her and grinned.
“I see. Taking care of what your wife wants to do first. That’s a smart man,” the clerk added with a chuckle.
Wife? What? No!
“Ah, no, we’re um, we’re not married.” That correction needed to be made immediately.
“Oh.” The clerk looked from her to Adam and then back to her again. “My fault. You two look like the perfect couple.”
With that comment, Adam glanced at her and Taylor stared back.
Did they look like the perfect couple?
Of course not. She’d been part of a couple before and that had b
lown up in her face. Even thoughts of trying again over the years ended with work coming to save the day.
Clearing her throat she looked away first. “We’re working together on a fun project.”
When she chanced another glance at Adam, he’d stopped staring at her but was grinning. “Yeah, she says it’s fun, but I’m the one doing all the heavy lifting.”
She dug into her purse for her wallet. “But I’m the one paying.” She pulled out her company credit card and waved it in the air.
The clerk looked at Adam and they both laughed. “She wins!”
They rode back to the bakery in Adam’s company truck, their purchases stacked in the back. After he parked, Taylor stepped out and met him around the back of the truck where she opened one of the doors. Adam ran into the bakery and came out with a smaller version of the flatbed cart they’d used in the store. He positioned it on the curb right across from the open doors and they began unloading their haul.
“Imported honey?” Taylor asked when she had the chance to read the label on those first tubs he’d put on the cart in the store.
“I’m known for not skimping when it comes to quality.” He reached into the truck for one of the large bags of flour.
“Well, I’m known for coming in under budget.” The tub was heavier than she’d anticipated so it took a bit of her rarely used muscle to get it off the truck and onto the cart.
“I’ll get those and you can get some of the lighter stuff.”
Turning her lips up she shook her head. “I’m good. They’re not too heavy for me. But thanks.”
“You say thanks, but you look like you’re thinking ‘oh please, stand back and watch me work.’”
Laughter came in a quick unexpected burst—the way every emotion she’d been experiencing around this guy had in the past few days.
Adam placed a second bag of flour on the cart and stood to stare at her. He had been doing that a lot, especially since that wife remark back at the store. Had that made him as uncomfortable as it did her? He hadn’t corrected the clerk. Maybe because she’d jumped to do that so quickly. With a shake of her head she told herself for the billionth time that none of this mattered. She only wanted them to be the perfect team to win this competition.
“So did you pick up all your fancy baking skills during the time you were at culinary school?” She had to say something because this stare-off they had going wasn’t ceasing.
“A few, but I wasn’t there long,” he replied. “Maybe six months before Cheryl’s accident.”
Her heart immediately sank. She hadn’t meant to bring up his wife’s death. “Oh Adam I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about that.”
He stopped and looked as if he were really contemplating her words before shaking his head.
“No. It was a long time ago. Well, three years ago. My father was big on what he thought were good long term careers for his children. Becoming a baker wasn’t exactly what he had in mind for his son, so I went to college here in Philly and graduated with a business degree. That’s where Cheryl and I met. We were married right after graduation and had Brooke months later. My dad always taught his sons especially, the importance of taking care of their responsibilities above all else. So I worked two jobs to support my family until Cheryl was able to start her in-home daycare. About a year after that Brooke started school, and we were finally in a good financial position where I could work only one job. So I went to school at night.”
She hadn’t imagined she’d have to fight back tears hearing his story, but her mood had suddenly gone melancholy at the thought of what he’d gone through.
“And then Cheryl died.” She finished for him because saying those words had to be hard for him.
“A car accident.”
“Oh, Adam.” She forgot about the supplies in the back of that truck and stepped closer to him but then stopped. Should she touch him? Just a consoling hand to his arm or shoulder? Would that be appropriate? Would he think she was overstepping their professional boundaries?
He stood a little straighter, holding his head a bit higher. “It’s been a challenge raising my baby on my own, but baking is something that always seems to put a smile on my face. And on Brooke’s. So, where’d you get your passion for architecture?”
She never thought she’d be so glad to see a smile on someone’s face. How wonderful was it that even through the midst of all that loss and sorrow, that he could still find some happiness.
“Seeing amazing buildings all around the world when I was growing up.” Feeling a bit lighter now, she grabbed another tub from the truck and he picked up a box. They met at the cart, both putting their items down as she continued. “I was born in Philly and mostly lived here until I was six. My mom’s an international lawyer and my dad’s a diplomat. We moved every couple of years.”
He looked surprised. “That’s a lot of moving.”
“Oh no, I loved it. Well…at least I learned to love it. Being so young and having to be uprooted so much was hard in the beginning, but as I got older I learned to find the best in every move. I mean some kids collect dolls. I collected passport stamps.”
And she really loved looking at her old passport books to see all the different places she’d been. It gave her a sense of accomplishment.
Adam chuckled. “Don’t ever say that to Brooke. She loves her doll collection above all else.”
“I’ll bet she does. But you know, being single and loving travel is why the firm sees me as the go-to girl for faraway projects.”
“Is that what you want to do forever? I mean, travel to faraway places to do these special projects? And where do you go for Christmas?”
It had been a long time since she’d thought about forever. One project at a time had been her motto these past years.
“I planned on forever once. It didn’t work out. But for Christmas I usually visit my parents. Unfortunately, this year they’re in Singapore. And I have a gingerbread house to build here.” A fact which she was actually very excited about, and not just because of the possibility of a promotion. She was actually enjoying working on this project so far.
“So you don’t miss hosting your own traditional Christmas?”
A traditional Christmas – like the ones she’d seen in Christmas movies with a family in their house, a Christmas tree with lots of presents underneath, stockings hanging by the fireplace, a big home-cooked meal. She hadn’t thought about it in a long time, but yeah, she missed it because it had once been her only dream in life.
“Life doesn’t always turn out the way we plan. So wherever I hang my stocking, it’s Christmas.” For the first time in all the years she’d been saying that, it sounded hollow.
“See, that I understand because I was going to be a world famous pastry chef. But sometimes plans just don’t work out.”
“It’s never too late.” For him, at least, she believed that.
They finished unpacking the supplies and she moved to stand closer to the cart while Adam closed the doors of the truck.
When the truck was locked he came to stand on the other side of the cart. The air today was brisk but the sun shined brightly while people moved about going to and from, but for just a few moments it seemed as if it were just her and Adam. A breeze blew lifting her hair on the sides where her hat did not cover. He extended his hand, brushing back the few strands that flew into her face.
“Thanks for saying that and for your help with the shopping today.”
His fingers brushed over her chin and every word in her vocabulary was lost. A familiar voice broke through the haze of…what exactly had she been feeling in that moment?
“Taylor. I thought that was you. You know Annabelle, I believe.” Bradford and Annabelle walked up to them and Taylor was only half grateful for the interruption.
Before she could wonder what the odds were that they’d run into thei
r rival teammates on the street like this, she remembered Annabelle’s restaurant was just around the corner. Bradford was wearing his usual charismatic smile and wool dress coat. Beside him Annabelle was casually dressed and effortlessly pretty. Taylor summoned her best professional smile.
“Yes. We’ve met.”
Annabelle gave Taylor a cordial nod and then turned her attention to Adam to introduce herself, “Annabelle Renard.”
Bradford pointed to Annabelle. “Gold medalist in last year’s European Pastry Panache Competition.”
Adam nodded and extended his hand to Annabelle. “Adam Dale, voted best personality in high school,” he said proudly and with a smile.
“Oh?” Annabelle replied while shaking his hand.
Bradford continued his very obvious display of showing off by pointing at Adam. “Wait, you’re ah…you’re the donut guy from Ray’s.” He looked toward the bakery window. “Right here. Man, you make the best jelly donuts.”
“Yeah, that’s me,” Adam nodded and looked like he accepted the compliment.
But Taylor wasn’t satisfied. “And that’s just his day job. Adam is a very talented patisserie,” she announced.
“Oh?” Annabelle replied once more. “How nice. May the best team win, huh?”
“Absolutely,” Taylor replied and watched happily as Annabelle and Bradford walked away.
“Talented patisserie? I like the sound of that,” Adam told her when they were once again alone.
She grinned at him. But was now more determined than ever to stay focused and win this competition. “Don’t let it go to your head. Let’s hurry back, we gotta meet the volunteers.”
Chapter Eight
Back at the Marketplace, Adam immediately jumped into work. He’d assembled a tool belt which made Taylor chuckle.
“Are you a baker or a construction worker?”
“I’m a jack of all trades,” he replied with a hand on the side of the tool belt as he posed like a cowboy.
“Okay, well as long as you master the baking on this one, sir, I’ll respect that,” she replied easily.
