by Traci Hall
“Ma, Moooom. You’re supposed to be resting, not wasting all of your international minutes on checking up with the customers. I told you I would do it. I am.”
She turned so that her back was to him, but he heard her say, “I hired some part-time help. Yes, we’ve been busy. It’s okay you left. Don’t worry.”
Her shoulders climbed back up. “I think I know how to make a sugar cookie.”
Ouch. And he thought his mom’s emotionless apathy was bad. Maybe hers was too controlling?
“I have to go,” Teagan said abruptly. “I have cookies to bake.” She slammed the handset onto the wall unit. “Damn that feels good.”
Riley waited by the couch, standing, uncertain. He put his glasses on and counted to ten under his breath. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a container of leftover Chinese food from their dinner last night. “Want some? Breakfast of champions.” She acted like they hadn’t kissed. Nothing had changed.
“I had peanut butter toast this morning. I woke up starving.” He didn’t regret their time together, no matter how many oven burns he had.
“Chinese food,” she said, digging her fork into the cold rice. “Leaves you hungry thirty minutes later.” She chewed, her eyes closed. “Still tastes great.”
Riley wasn’t sure what to do. They’d had a connection that upset her. Whatever her mom had said made things worse. “Are you okay?”
“Sure.” She opened her eyes and popped another forkful into her mouth. “You see what I mean though? I grew up fighting to be heard. To be seen for me.” Teagan set the container down on the kitchen counter. “My dad, he tries, but even he has old-fashioned ideas.” She opened the fridge, searching for something else. “Can you believe she questioned my ability to make a damn sugar cookie?”
Riley wisely kept his mouth shut.
Teagan dragged out a bagel and some cream cheese. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? It’s going to be another busy day. Bet you’re sorry you offered to help, huh?”
“There’s no place else I’d rather be.” That was the truth. He’d had plans to hang out at the beach with Carrie and some other neighbors, but Teagan was way more exciting. She looked at the world in a completely different way than he did.
She sliced the bagel and put it in the toaster, getting down a plate. Washing some grapes, she put them in a bowl and nodded to him. “I’ve been making sugar cookies by myself since I was ten.”
“I’ve been eating your cookies for the past few days. They’re delicious. Better than any other cookies I’ve ever had.”
The toaster dinged.
Teagan blew on her fingers then snatched the hot bagel free to set it on her plate. “Thank you. I couldn’t’ve done it without you.”
“Your mom will be happily surprised when she comes home to a freshly painted kitchen.” For as opposite as they were, they each had Mom issues and were susceptible to guilt trips. She handled the situation by yelling while he tended to keep his mouth shut.
“Maybe.” Teagan spread cream cheese on each half and handed him one wrapped in a napkin. “It’ll probably be the wrong color. Eat. You’ll need the energy.”
Riley took the bagel just so they wouldn’t argue. The kiss went on the back burner, but not forgotten. “So, how many Candy Cane Cookie Bouquets are going out today?”
“Thanks to your incredible twisting skills, we were able to knock out another fifty dozen. That’s phenomenal. And last night I got a bunch of orders for out of town. People willing to pay expedited shipping. I checked the orders compared to last year and instead of being slow, we’ve tripled the business.”
“Probably due to your vlogging viewers.”
She paused before eating her bagel. “Ya think?”
“That’s the only factor that could be different. Everybody knows where you are and what you’re doing.” He shrugged. “Despite the stalker potential, it’s effective marketing. 250,000 viewers is a lot.”
“If you weren’t so shy, you could sing one of your songs on the vlog. Catch the ear of a studio guy.”
He cleared his throat, rejecting the idea immediately. “No. I have a job, teaching kids. That’s what I do.” Eighteen years to retirement.
“That doesn’t have to be the only thing you do.” She pointed her bagel at him. “Seems kinds of limiting, actually.”
Was it? Not everybody had to be on the stage. He was happy.
“My dream was to get out of Kansas. I did. Got a great job by the beach.”
“There are short term goals,” Teagan said. “And long term goals.”
“This isn’t about me.” Riley didn’t like being under scrutiny. “This is about finishing up the cookie orders and getting them to the post office on time.”
“True. How are you with packing tape?”
He grinned and handed her the bagel half. “Great. You finish your breakfast and I’ll go get some of the free boxes.”
She set the food down and grabbed his arm, giving him a light kiss on the lips. It didn’t have the sizzle of their previous kiss, but it still had a nice tingle. “Thank you. I meant what I said earlier. I couldn’t do this without you.”
It wasn’t often Riley got to feel like a hero, but he liked it.
Chapter Six
Christmas Eve
Teagan adjusted her elf hat and stared directly into the camera. “Okay, friends. I am not going to rant about anything today. Instead, I’m going to leave you with a positive message of love and happiness and the hope for each of you to experience these things. Yes, the music teacher is a cutie pie, but I am single, and will stay single. I have things to do that can’t wait. I owe it to myself, don’t I? Just like you owe it to yourselves to go in search of some happiness. I won’t talk to you tomorrow, but the day after. We can compare notes! Thanks for caring, guys.”
She took the elf hat off and went into the kitchen to rinse her coffee cup. Her ass would be dead in the water if it wasn’t for Riley. He’d helped her with the out of town deliveries, so that today it was all local. They could be done by three. She couldn’t believe it, but she figured that Riley was right. Her vlogging had brought in new customers to Becker’s Bakery. Just maybe it wasn’t on its last leg.
But where did that put her? She didn’t want to inherit the dang thing. She wanted the freedom to travel. If people were willing to pay for her opinion, she owed it to them to have one. That required seeing the world and taking part in it.
She didn’t regret coming home and helping her mom and dad. Would they appreciate a painted kitchen? Maybe. Her luck she’d choose the wrong color and her mother would hate it. Complain for the next twenty years.
Riley knocked on the front door, not as chipper as he’d been in the last few days. Thank God, she thought. She’d been wondering if he was human.
“Morning,” she said. Yesterday’s kiss on the couch had been ignored, too hot for her to consider until the work was done.
“Morning.” His voice was deeper than normal too. Sexy. “How’d you sleep? I counted candy cane cookies.”
“A true baker.”
“I’m looking forward to our date tonight.”
Shit. She kept hoping he’d forget. “Are you sure? It doesn’t have to be a date. Just a trip to the beach. At night. Ten minutes.”
“I get to call the shots,” he said. “Don’t back out on me, Teagan.”
“I’m not.” She’d be the biggest jerk if she did, after all of his hard work. Not a single complaint, either.
“Good.” He passed by her into the kitchen, turning toward her so suddenly that she bumped into him. “I’ve been thinking about this.” Riley took her face gently between his warm palms, cradling her cheeks before, with deliberate thoroughness, kissing her, heating her entire body with that one action.
She melted, then pulled herself out of his expert embrace. “Knock it off, Riley. None of that, or we won’t get the deliveries out.” It was difficult to focus when she just wanted to drag him back to her virgina
l twin bed and do him every which way.
The man was impervious to her ratted hair, her face without make-up, flour creased at her neck. He insisted on liking her and she couldn’t figure it out. Damn, the way he kissed? At quarter after three, if he wasn’t too pooped to pucker, then she’d give him all she had.
“You drive a hard bargain.” Riley set a reusable grocery bag on the counter. “I brought Nature Juice with a B vitamin kick. Guaranteed to get you through the next few hours without crashing.”
“And you know this, how?”
“Studying for finals in college. And high school. Rather than steal my friends Adderall, I asked around at the health food store. It worked for me, anyway.” He blushed.
“Straight A’s?” She took a stab in the dark at his nerdy youth. Band camp, angsty poetry. Intelligence behind those designer frames. Not her previous style. Maybe it was time to be open to something, or somebody, new. No, I’m leaving.
“Mostly,” he mumbled, shaking up a juice container and handing it over. “Drink it quick though. Tastes like healthy stuff.”
“What a recommendation!” She accepted the container which had floating particles in it. “I can whip us up some pancakes…”
“Too loaded with carbs. We need to be fighting machines.”
“Okay.” She shivered and shook the bottle. “On the count of three?”
He nodded. Shook. Counted. Uncapped. They drank in unison and if her face looked as puckered as his, well, neither of them enjoyed their breakfast.
“This sucks,” she said, swallowing down a chunk of something. She hoped it was pineapple.
“It kicks in pretty quick,” he assured her. “Got a list?”
She loved that he utilized lists. That he was so organized. Cute and effective. She was the sort of person to throw shit against the wall to see what worked. “On the back of the Chinese food receipt.”
He looked on the counter until he found what he wanted. “Got it. So, I can do these morning deliveries while you bake a last few batches?”
“We have an order for the bank, and then a giant basket for Randall Wallace and the town council. Remind me to pack a few empty smaller boxes so that the people can take some home over the holiday and the cookies don’t go to waste.”
“That’s smart.” Riley walked out of the kitchen and brushed by her so close they touched. “Pretty and clever.” He patted her ass. “Let’s move. I want to be done working so that we can play.”
With that last remark, he grabbed the keys to the van and headed toward the bakery to get the cookies.
Teagan snapped her mouth shut, hearing her mother scold that open mouths caught flies, but what would her mother say about a skinny Irish music teacher patting her daughter on the behind in the Becker kitchen?
She followed quickly on his heels, her body flush with ideas that would get her on the naughty list pretty fast.
“Riley, hang on. We have time—don’t speed.” She couldn’t allow herself to get distracted so she stuck her nose in the air and got to work.
Chocolate caramel spice logs were chilling in the industrial-sized fridge and Teagan just had to slice them, dust them with nutmeg and bake. She got out a frying pan and a cube of butter, oatmeal and ginger.
“Making eggs?”
“No, Mr. McSorley, I am making German Lace cookies.”
“You fry them?” His shook his head back, his glasses sliding along his nose.
“Cook the ingredients on the stove top, then bake them.” She’d forgotten they were a pain in the butt to make, but worth it. “Divine,” she promised.
“What are they for?”
“The basket to the town council. It should be the last one we take, since the customer picked the biggest assortment of German cookies we offer. I figure we can stick in a few candy cane cookies, some of the thumbprint with the apricot jam?” She ticked off what she had left. “Chocolate walnut cookies, peach sponge cake, peppermint oatmeal…”
Riley squeezed her shoulder, then kissed her cheek, his hair tickling her skin. “You’ve done a really great job for your parents. They’ve got to be proud.”
“Well,” she shuffled away from his warm hand. “You do what you gotta do.”
“No,” he said. “Lots of people would’ve done what they wanted, no matter what.”
Uncomfortable with his praise, she shooed him toward the stack of boxes waiting on the counter.
“Just go.” She snuck a peek at his hind end as he left, his arms loaded with cookies. Snug denim curved over his butt, red sneakers on his feet. A green t-shirt with a reindeer on the front and a red Santa hat. How many holiday shirts did he have, anyway?
She’d need a shower and to shave her legs before going to the beach tonight. The thought made her skin crawl—the beach, not the shower—but she’d promised, and she tried really hard to never go back on her word.
Soon the butter was melted in the pan, and she added the rest of the ingredients for the lace cookies. Cloves, heavy cream. She loved this one and only got it from her mother at Christmas. It was her first time making it alone and she felt a pang of homesickness that took her by surprise.
She missed her parents.
Her mother’s stroke never should have happened, but when Teagan thought back to the family’s eating habits, how could it not? Butter, cream, eggs. Heavy gravies, rich pastas. Homemade thick bread and golden honey.
Teagan’s saving grace had been moving away to college and discovering smoothies. She traded one meal for a shake of blended fruits, veggies and protein. Added exercise by walking through the shaded trails. Her curves weren’t going anywhere, and she had no desire to be a stick figure, and God help her, when she died they could bury her with a loaf of fresh bread and warm butter, but she was healthy.
Now to get her parents aware of the blender for something besides gravy. The phone rang. She took the frying pan from the burner with one hand and picked up the handset with the other. “Happy holidays! Becker’s Bakery.”
“Schnicklefritz! Merry Christmas, Teagan.” Her dad’s booming voice held a tremor.
“What’s the matter, Dad?”
“Ach, nothing.”
“How’s Ma?”
“Fine, fine.”
He was lying, she could hear it. “You’re upset.”
“Yes. A little upset.”
“Why?” Teagan thought back to each of the orders that she, with Riley’s help, had gotten done. She didn’t think she’d missed anything. Had she?
“We should be there with you over the holiday. I feel like we left you with a mess. I know there weren’t many orders, but you never liked the bakery. It was our joy. Instead of spending the time with you, our daughter, our maus, we are not together over this season of family.”
They’d discussed all that before leaving, she thought shrewdly. “Did you get into a fight with Mom’s cousins?”
“They are a stubborn bunch of—”
“Dad,” she interjected. “You’re supposed to be relaxing. Mom needs to rest. We talked about the holiday. I would do the orders,” she didn’t tell him that business had tripled with little sign of slowing down, “and you and Mom would have a magical Christmas with her family.”
“You are our family.”
Her eyes welled with surprised tears. “Ah, Dad. We’re going to have an awesome Christmas when you come back. January 6th. No biggie! Besides, there were a couple of Christmas’ when I went to a friend’s house instead of coming home.”
Silence hung like an accusation.
Finally, “We missed you, but we knew you were having fun. We just want you to be happy.”
Guilt over something she hadn’t realized she should be guilty for rose up her throat with the nasty juice. She swallowed it down. “Shit.”
“Cussing before noon?”
“Since when is that a rule?” She stirred the cooling ingredients in the fry pan. “I’m sorry. Dad, I don’t want you to feel bad, okay? This trip was about Mom, anyway.”
/> “She’s sleeping off her aunt’s mulberry wine.”
Great. There was hope for her yet. “Get her drunk more often. I love you both. I’ll call you later. The last delivery should be done by three.”
“So late?”
He had no idea what the bakery was like and she wasn’t telling them. Teagan held her tongue. “Yep. Bye, Dad.”
She placed the handset in the receiver and cranked the music. Since she was alone, she went with Green Day—the early, angry years.
*****
Riley smiled as he got out of the car. Dropping off gifts on Christmas Eve was very cool. He could see why Santa was into it.
The last lady, who worked at a liquor store and smelled like her product, had given him a bottle of champagne and a teary-eyed kiss of thanks.
He couldn’t wait to share it with Teagan. It was after one and he was counting down the hours until they got to close for the day. He worked hard at Watkins Elementary, but this was more physical. Normally he liked routine. If this was his shop, or his livelihood, he’d do things a little differently. Like tossing every post-it note that Teagan used for delivery addresses and getting a system that couldn’t be lost so easily. Or misunderstood. Her number 3 looked like an 8.
He opened the door to the bakery and was blown back a few feet by screaming guitar riffs that reminded him of his elementary school days, when his step-dad was still alive and his mom occasionally took the stick from her ass to have some fun.
Teagan, a dishtowel wrapped around her head like a kerchief, rocked out as she put together a basket the size of a round kitchen table. It was a work of art, he thought, eyeing the small plates of cookies tucked in among peppermint sticks and chocolate bars, round oranges and crimson poinsettias.
She hit a note so high, so pure, he took a step back. Teagan’s voice rivaled any female rocker he’d ever heard. Which was admittedly not many, but she could hold her own with the divas.
The door slammed closed behind him, setting off the lobby bell.
