She smoothed her hair back more than once as the breeze tangled through it, and he was about to ask her if she was getting cold when she said, “Is that the greenhouse?”
“Yep. Ready to see the lemon trees?”
“I am.” Gwen smiled at him.
Seth wondered what it would be like to have Gwen smile at him every day, because the way she was smiling at him right now made him feel like he could find beauty in any place if she was with him.
As he neared her to take the steps to the lower yard with the greenhouse, she said, “Hey, I’m really sorry about all those immature accusations earlier.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He reached up to tuck a piece of her blowing hair behind her ear. “Nothing you accused me of was entirely untrue, although I think you’ll find some surprises.”
Gwen didn’t know what was happening to her. When Seth had tucked her blowing hair behind her ear and she’d felt the warm brush of his fingertips, she’d wondered if swooning would ever come back in fashion. Not that she was about to faint, but her boss was hitting her with too much, too fast.
First, he baked? Like Top Chef baking. Gwen hadn’t even tasted the final result, but she’d only seen his method of assembling ingredients in one place: television. Not even Pierre baked without measuring first.
And Seth had had a steady girlfriend, one whom he’d had to move away from to get over? Her frat-boy image of him had been pretty much blown apart. And why in the world did he need to get a bank loan to buy a restaurant that his dad already owned? She had a million questions, but there were probably only a few more minutes on the oven timers, and she really wanted to see the greenhouse. Gwen had a small affinity for lemons. Okay, so a rather large preference, since most of her bathing product choices were lemon-scented. The scent of orange was a close second.
She smelled the lemon trees the moment Seth opened the door to the greenhouse.
The place was illuminated only by the moonlight and stars, but that was enough for walking among the young lemon trees. Gwen was pretty much speechless as she walked around the small trees, then looked at the table with rows of potted herbs. Another table held what looked like rose bush starts.
“Do you have a green thumb as well?” Gwen said.
Seth was inspecting the herb pots as if he was some sort of master gardener too.
“Not really.” He looked up, and even in the dimness of the greenhouse she could feel the warmth of his gaze.
Gwen shook that thought away. Seth did not see her like that, and she wouldn’t even allow her brain to go there.
“This is actually my dad’s hobby, although my mom has come to enjoy growing as well.” He brushed his hands off. “This table of herbs was my idea, for, you know, cooking. But my dad loves to interbreed roses.”
“And the lemon trees?”
“My mom.” Seth smiled. “It appears you have something in common with her.”
“Hmm.” Gwen tried to act dismissive, but in truth, her pulse sped up. So what if Seth’s mom liked lemons enough to actually grow lemon trees? Gwen walked to the table of rose bush cuttings and bent down to smell a couple of them. “I suppose you do the watering when they’re out of town?”
“We have a gardener,” he said. “But I’m the one overseeing these herbs. They can be finicky.”
She felt his gaze on her, but she wasn’t quite ready to meet it—not in this place of heady fragrance and moonlight.
“We should probably check the ovens.” Seth moved to the door of the greenhouse.
Yes. How could she have forgotten about the cupcakes for even a minute? With Seth holding the door for her, she hurried out of the greenhouse.
The temperature outside was markedly cooler than inside the greenhouse, bringing much-needed clarity of mind.
Once they were back inside, Gwen smelled the sure scent of baked goods.
Seth beat her to the first oven, and he whipped out the first batch of cupcakes before Gwen had even reached the counter.
Thankfully, they were lightly browned and not burned.
“Perfect,” Seth declared. Then he took out the second batch from the other oven and set the muffin tin on a cooling rack. Of course he would. Apparently, he didn’t do anything subpar when it came to baking.
Gwen watched him for a moment, marveling at how he could be so cool and collected, and at ease, even though it was nearly one o’clock in the morning. The bright lights of the kitchen made Gwen realize that she probably looked like a ragamuffin. After working a long shift at the restaurant, her go-to was a long bath, then straight to bed.
“So, should we use a different extract for the next batch?” Seth asked, his hazel eyes zeroing in on her from across the counter.
Gwen shook her head, mostly to clear her straying thoughts.
“No?”
“No, I mean, yeah, let’s try the almond,” she said.
He smiled. “Sounds good to me.”
When he smiled at her like that it only made her feel guilty for how snarky she’d been to him. Mean, truthfully. Why did he have to agree with her put-downs, and why did he have to be rich and talented and good-looking and generous with his time?
“Should I put the eggs into the mixer?” she asked.
“Yep.” Seth was already adding up another batch of dry ingredients—flour, salt, and baking powder—to a bowl. Without measuring.
Gwen cracked the two eggs and turned on the mixer, then added the butter and reached for the sack of sugar. “Um, how much sugar again?”
“About a cup,” he said, glancing over at her.
She began to tilt the bag, and he crossed to her in two strides and put his hand over hers with a chuckle. “Easy, there, it’s all going to come out at once.”
So, with his hand on her wrist, they poured sugar into the mixing bowl as it rotated, beating the eggs and butter.
“Looking good.” Seth released her and moved away, taking his warmth with him.
Gwen stared down at the mixing batter, trying to refocus her thoughts and slow her breathing. She was not developing a crush on her boss. And when had the kitchen become so hot? Weren’t these fancy ovens supposed to contain their heat? Finally, she turned toward the island just as Seth turned toward her, holding the bowl of dry ingredients.
“I’ll put that in,” she said, and he handed her the bowl. “Any special method I should be aware of?”
“The slower the better,” he said with a wink.
Gwen knew she was about to blush, and she covered it up by turning toward the mixer and dumping in the dry ingredients. Judging by the puff of flour that escaped, she’d probably poured it in a bit too fast.
She sneaked a glance over her shoulder to see if Seth had noticed. He had a slight smile on his face while he took out the cooling cupcakes and put in more clean liners. Something struck her then—she’d never seen Seth in a home environment. And although this was a gorgeous cabin with a professional grade kitchen, Seth seemed perfectly at ease.
She’d never seen him so . . . relaxed. And, dare she suggest, content? Maybe even happy?
“Do you want to try one?” Seth lifted his gaze to meet hers.
“Try one?”
His mouth quirked. “A cupcake?”
How did he do that? Make her feel like he was teasing her and being sincere at the same time? “Um, we don’t have frosting yet.”
One of his brows lifted. “Do you require frosting on all your cupcakes?”
Gwen held back a smile because even though Seth wasn’t exactly the man she thought he was, that didn’t mean she was going to do a one-eighty. “I do, in fact. I don’t even consider a cupcake finished without frosting. And sprinkles.”
“Hmm.” Seth pulled another muffin tin toward him. “I hope we have sprinkles then.”
“If you don’t, I have some at my place,” she said. “Along with the toothpick flags.”
She knew he was trying not to laugh. She set her hands on her hips. “What’s wrong with flags on cupcake
s? Aren’t you patriotic?”
He raised his hands. “I have no problem with it. I just think it’s . . .”
She waited, and when he didn’t finish, she joined him at the counter and took over the job of putting in the cupcake liners. He was watching her movements, but she ignored him.
“It’s sweet,” he said.
She looked up at him, which was probably a mistake. Because they were standing a lot closer than she’d realized. And he was holding a cupcake, the wrapping peeled from it.
“Try it,” he said. “Just one bite.”
She exhaled. Then she leaned forward and took a bite out of the warm cupcake. The light lemon and sugary taste melted on her tongue. It was amazing. Without the frosting. She plucked the cupcake from Seth’s hands and, ignoring his grin, took another bite. “Okay, you win this round.”
He laughed.
“But . . . I know it will be better with frosting, sprinkles, and a flag.”
Seth took the half-eaten cupcake right from her fingers and popped the whole thing into his mouth, a gleam in his eye. “It’s pretty good for having to use the ingredients that were available in the restaurant kitchen.”
“Pretty good?” Gwen said. “It’s amazing!”
“Have you always gone all out for holidays?” he asked.
Gwen lifted her shoulder. “Yeah. My mom decorated to the hilt for holidays, and I guess it just stuck with me. It’s probably the only real thing I appreciate about her.” As soon as she said it, she wanted to take it back. She didn’t talk about her parents with anyone, not even Alicia. It was like their friendship was all about sharing work experiences and escaping their family issues.
“Where do your parents live?”
“Sacramento.”
“So . . . you’re not that close with your mom?”
Gwen walked to the mixer and turned it off, then brought the batter back and filled up the cupcake holders. She wasn’t nearly as suave as Seth had been with the first batch, but she could manage the task just fine. When she finished, Seth took the first tin over to the oven and set the timer. She set the second one in the other oven.
She turned, and there was Seth, leaning against the counter, his arms folded, his gaze on her. Waiting . . .
“Um, I haven’t exactly seen my parents for over a year,” she said. “I’m not proud of it, and I wish it could be different. But until they accept my choices in life, it’s too painful for all of us to even be in the same room together.”
Seth scanned her face. “Are you a felon, or something?”
“Ha.” Gwen leaned against the opposite counter. “That might be easier. I’m a college dropout.”
Seth’s brow rose. “And . . . ?”
“And that’s pretty much it. I dropped out of Stanford my sophomore year.”
He didn’t look shocked or disgusted, just curious.
“For some parents that’s worse than a teenage pregnancy or a drug bust,” she added.
Seth nodded. He wasn’t going to tease her or ask her a million questions? Despite this guy’s hidden talents at baking and growing herbs, he was still a frat boy, wasn’t he?
“My dad credits his heart attack to my year at culinary school in Paris,” he said. “Dad had a miraculous recovery when I told him I’d return to the States to finish my degree.”
Gwen’s mouth dropped open. “Ouch. But . . . Paris? Culinary school? You’ve totally held out on me and the entire restaurant. Does Pierre know?”
His mouth twisted into a half smile, and he straightened from the counter. “No one in Pine Valley knows except my parents, and they want to keep it that way.”
“Wait, why?” Gwen said. “I mean . . . who doesn’t want a chef in the family? That’s almost as good as a doctor.”
“Ouch.” Seth pressed a hand over his heart.
“Oh, my gosh. Don’t tell me your parents wanted you to be a doctor?”
He nodded.
“Sorry.” Gwen didn’t think he looked too upset by her comment, more like amused. Obviously, all of this chef-doctor-restaurant-owner had been reconciled with his parents, since he lived in their huge cabin.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I only cook when my parents are gone. You know, to keep the family drama to a minimum.”
Gwen couldn’t believe any parent would discourage their kid from becoming a world-class chef. “I have all kinds of things to say about your parents, but I’m going to hold back because I think we should get that next batter going, or we’ll be here all night.”
“Right.” Seth moved back to the island. “Although my schedule is wide open tonight, so I don’t mind.”
Gwen scoffed. “Everyone’s schedule is open in the middle of the night—because they should be sleeping.” She looked over at him. “Thank you, by the way. This is more than I would have ever expected—”
“Are you going to talk about me being a frat boy again?”
“I’ve repented of my preconceived opinions of you,” she said.
“Really?” His gaze looked hopeful.
Gwen decided to ignore the butterflies flitting around inside of her. “Well, mostly.”
“That’s more like it.” Seth chuckled as he mixed up another batch of unmeasured dry ingredients. “Mint?”
“Why not?” She picked up the extract and set it on the counter by the mixer.
Over the next two hours, they settled into a routine, and Gwen hardly noticed the passing time or the fact that she should be dead on her feet. Somehow, she still had energy, although she refused to analyze if the reason was because she was excited to deliver the cupcakes at the shelter in the morning. Or maybe it was because the more time she spent with Seth, the more interesting she found him.
“And that’s it.” Seth turned off the oven timer and pulled out the final batch of cupcakes. He didn’t know what type of reaction he expected from Gwen, but it wasn’t total silence. He looked over where she was sitting at the counter. She’d laid her head down on her folded arms.
“Gwen?” he said in a quieter voice.
She didn’t answer.
He walked over to her and moved to the side where her face was turned. She’d fallen asleep. Seth exhaled. It would be another hour before the newest batch of cupcakes was completely cooled and ready for frosting. They’d decided to do all the frosting at once when all the cupcakes were finished.
But Seth didn’t have the heart to wake her up. A quick glance at the oven clock told him it was 4:30 a.m. Yet, if Gwen continued to sleep like this, she’d have a sore neck. So Seth did the only logical thing he could think of.
“Gwen?” he said, nudging her shoulder. “Do you want to sleep on the couch for a while?”
She mumbled something but didn’t move.
“Gwen?”
Nothing. So he slid one arm under her knees and pulled her against him with his other arm. He lifted her up and carried her to the couch in the adjacent great room. The leather couches were overstuffed and oversized. Gwen barely stirred as he set her down. He left her there and went to find a blanket in a closet. He grabbed a couple of blankets and returned to the great room.
Gwen hadn’t even moved. For such a vivacious woman, she sure slept deeply. He draped the blanket over her, then grabbed a throw pillow and tucked it under her head. He stood for a moment, watching her sleep, as a myriad of thoughts flooded through him. Tonight had been unexpected, and he hadn’t even asked her the original question he’d meant to in the parking lot.
He yawned and decided he’d catch a little sleep. The sun would be up in ninety minutes, and he could sleep until then. Frosting would only take an hour with Gwen’s help, and she could be on her way well before her deadline of 10:00 a.m. Just in case, he set his phone alarm for 7:00 a.m.
Seth took the second blanket and went to change before settling on the other couch. He felt wired as his mind replayed the events of the evening, and he wondered if he’d fall asleep.
“Seth,” someone was saying.
“I’
m sleeping,” he mumbled. Then he realized the woman’s voice wasn’t his mom, or his sister.
He blinked his eyes open to find he was in the great room. And the place was flooded with the morning light.
Gwen was standing next to the couch, her arms folded, as she peered down at him.
Seth sat up and looked behind him at the massive windows. “What time is it?”
“It’s 7:30,” Gwen said. “What happened last night? How did I get on the couch?”
It took Seth’s brain a moment to catch up. He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Um, you fell asleep sitting on the barstool.”
“I did?”
Seth pushed the blanket aside and rose to his feet. When Gwen simply stared at him, he remembered he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He’d changed into gym shorts last night after he’d carried her to the couch.
When he met her gaze, Gwen flushed.
“Did . . .” She paused. “Did anything happen last night?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean—between us.” She took a step back, her arms still folded. “You’re, uh, not exactly dressed.”
“I changed before I crashed on the couch. I didn’t want you to wake up and not know where I was.” He grabbed his cell phone, wondering why his alarm hadn’t gone off. He’d accidentally set it for 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:00 a.m. “I didn’t mean to sleep so long.”
Gwen nodded and, avoiding his gaze, said, “It looks like all the cupcakes are done. I can frost them really fast and then be on my way. Do you have a pastry spreader?”
“Uh, sure.” Seth didn’t like how things seemed so awkward between them this morning. Last night, or should he say, earlier this morning, they’d gotten along great. “I thought we’d use decorator tips. I’ve got some you might like.” He headed toward the kitchen. “And breakfast. I’m starving.”
He supposed Gwen was following him, but when he reached the kitchen, she was still standing in the great room. “What’s wrong?”
Waiting for You_Pine Valley Page 4
