Sweet Dreams (The Bakery Romance Series Book 3)

by Cecelia Dowdy

  “Is it required that you know how to cook in order to volunteer in the soup kitchen?”

  He stopped at another light and peered at her. “Honestly? Yes, if you want to volunteer regularly. I don’t make the rules. I just follow them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like I said, our church is in charge of cooking and serving on Wednesday nights. It’ll make things easier for you to get your community service hours if you knew how to cook.”

  “What about those ladies who put together those toiletry bags and sandwiches? They didn’t cook. They didn’t even come back into the kitchen to help us. Why can’t I do that?”

  He sighed. “They’re from St. Joseph’s.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s another church in the area. That’s their ministry. They do sandwiches and toiletry bags every night. This soup kitchen is a community effort. That’s just how that church has chosen to help.”

  Misty nodded. “I see.”

  He paused, peered at her again. “I still don’t understand why you can’t cook at all.”

  She folded her arms in front of her chest. Was he ever going to let this issue go? “I just don’t know how to cook, okay?”

  “You’ve never tried?”

  The horrible memories filled her mind. “Yes, I tried to fry chicken when I was a teenager one time and it was a disaster.”

  “What happened?”

  “I started a grease fire. It was awful. I was at home by myself and I didn’t know what to do. The fire department came.” She shook her head, shame filling her soul. “My mom and sisters never let me live that one down. They complained about it for months. I damaged the kitchen.”

  He remained silent as he continued to drive. “Have you ever cooked anything else?”

  She nodded. She might as well let him know how much of a failure she was in the kitchen. “I tried to bake a chicken.”

  “What happened?”

  “My whole family got sick.”

  He stopped at another light, his eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. I wouldn’t kid about something like this.”

  “Did you cook the chicken long enough?”

  “It was almost burnt.”

  “And your family still ate it?”

  “Yes, we never had much money and we didn’t want to waste food.”

  “Misty, you’re being too hard on yourself. That chicken may have been spoiled in the first place.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe.”

  He pulled into his driveway and cut the ignition. He leaned back into his seat and studied her.

  “Would you please stop staring at me?” His probing gaze was highly unnerving.

  “Have you ever tried to cook anything else?”

  “Haven’t I told you enough?”

  He didn’t say anything as he patiently waited. Well, it looked like he wanted to hear it all. So she might as well tell him. “Well, I tried one other time and ended up going to the emergency room.”

  He jerked back, his dark brown eyes widening. “What happened?”

  “My sisters Lisa and Kim love cooking. They’re always fixing fancy stuff, talking about my terrible cooking. So, one day, I decided to make some potato chips. I wanted to prove that I could cook just as well as they could. I was tired of hearing their complaints.”

  “So, you decided to make potato chips?” It sounded like he didn’t believe her.

  She nodded. “I used Kim’s mandolin—”

  “You used a mandolin?” His deep voice cracked through the car like a whip. “Misty what were you thinking?”

  She blew air through her lips. Just thinking about the contraption that sliced veggies into paper thin slices made her sick. “Kim used it all the time and it looked so easy.”

  “So, you cut your finger on the mandolin?” His voice was now quiet and soothing, as if he wanted to make her feel better.

  “Yes, the bleeding wouldn’t stop and we had to go to the emergency room. It took a whole week for it to heal.” She looked away from him, stared out into the darkness.

  “Didn’t the mandolin have a guard?”

  She frowned, looked toward him again. “What do you mean?”

  “Some mandolins have a guard so that you’re not holding the vegetable with your fingers when you slice it. It’s used to prevent you from cutting yourself.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I only know that I used it the same way I’d seen Kim use it and it was a disaster.”

  “Misty, you can’t let this deter you from learning how to cook. What if Adrian is sick or goes away on a trip or something. How would you make dinner for yourself and Jennifer?”

  Misty shrugged again. “I’d probably just go and get McDonald’s or something. Or, I’d get cold cuts to make sandwiches. I’m sure we wouldn’t starve.”

  “Do you even know how to make scrambled eggs?”

  “No.”

  “Those were the only times you’ve ever cooked something?”

  She nodded. “Whenever I’m in the kitchen, it’s a disaster. Look at what happened to the cornbread tonight. My sisters never let me forget that I can’t cook.”

  “Stop focusing on what your sisters said. They were probably just teasing you and you were just being too sensitive.”

  Could that possibly be? She wasn’t sure. She’d never thought about it like that.

  “Another thing.” He cleared his throat. “You were cooking complicated stuff. Most home cooks probably don’t even know what a mandolin is. It’s dangerous and you shouldn’t have been using it unless you knew what you were doing.”

  He took her hand. “I could teach you how to cook if you’d like.”

  The thought of Sterling teaching her to cook was highly intimidating. She figured his dad had started teaching him how to cook when he was a kid. “Sterling, I don’t know…”

  “Just think about it, okay.”

  She sighed. “Okay.” Maybe she could teach herself. She’d look on YouTube to see if there were any cooking videos. Sterling had mentioned scrambled eggs. Maybe she could try and cook that. She cringed. Hopefully her efforts wouldn’t be too disastrous.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I was thinking that if I turned the stove on, I hope I don’t blow up Adrian’s house.”

  “Stop exaggerating.”

  Had he not heard about all that had happened when she tried to cook? Yes, she’d need to learn. Heck, she needed to learn pretty fast if she wanted to keep volunteering in the soup kitchen. Her cooking efforts were going to take a lot of thought and prayer over the next few days. Well she was tired of talking about her non-existent cooking skills. She wanted to talk to Sterling about what had been bugging her the previous weekend.

  “Sterling, I’d wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “What’s that?” He continued holding her hand, toying with her fingers.

  “Before I tell you, you have to promise not to laugh.”

  He shrugged. “I promise.”

  She told him about the open house the previous Friday. “I just can’t stop thinking about Jennifer vomiting on the director’s shoes. It gives me nightmares.”

  He tilted his head, studied her. “You never did explain why you wanted Jennifer to go to that school so much.”

  “Yes, I did. I told you about how I was raised.”

  “So? Misty, you’re doing an awesome job with Jennifer. You moved up here. You have a decent job. From what I can tell, Jennifer is in a better environment. Don’t beat yourself up over something you can’t control. Jennifer’s a nice, smart kid. She’ll still thrive even if she doesn’t go to that nursery school.”

  “But, she deserves the best.”

  He continued looking at her, as if he had more to say. She met his intense look. “What?”

  “There’s something you’re not telling me.” He shrugged. “It’s possible that it’s something that you don’t even want to admit to yourself. I have a feeling that there
’s another reason why you want to send Jennifer to that school…”

  He was being ridiculous. It was time for her to go inside anyway. She was tired and she had to get up early in the morning to work. He finally unlocked the doors. He escorted her to Adrian’s front door. “I just want to make sure you’re still planning on coming back next week.”

  She nodded. “I’ll be there. I’d told you why I wanted to do this.”

  “Yeah, you did.” Her heart raced when he touched her cheek. “Good night, Misty.”

  “Good night,” she breathed. She went into the house and peeked out the kitchen window. She couldn’t resist watching him walk across the street to his home. She went into the living room and found Adrian in a rocking chair, holding Jennifer, who was sound asleep.

  “Why isn’t Jennifer in the bed?”

  Adrian chuckled. “I’d put her in the bed and she kept getting up. She said she wanted to wait for you. I finally just sat up and held her myself.”

  “I’ll take her.” Misty lifted her daughter. “She’s so heavy.”

  “I know. After you put her in the bed, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  Misty walked back to Jennifer’s room. She placed her daughter into her bed and kissed her chubby cheek. She returned to the living room and the phone rang. Adrian’s voice-activated caller ID box identified the caller as Nate. Misty groaned. She just didn’t have the energy to pick up the phone. She hesitated, her hand on the receiver, wondering if she should just let the call go into voicemail.

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Nate’s called twice this evening, looking for you. You might want to answer that and see what he wants. I’m surprised he didn’t call your cell phone.”

  Misty had gotten a new smart phone with a new number shortly before she’d moved. “He doesn’t have my new cell phone number.”

  Misty lifted the phone, not bothering with a greeting. “Nate, I was just about to go to bed.”

  “Look, I have something important that I wanted to talk to you about. Is it okay if I come by next week?”

  She sighed, fatigue weighing upon her like a ton of bricks. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Why, do you have a date with your boyfriend?”

  Misty bristled at his caustic tone. She gripped the phone, dropped onto the couch. She checked the clock, it was ten thirty. Her head was hurting and all she wanted to do was go to bed and get a good night’s sleep before going to work in the morning. The whole point of her moving from Lehigh Acres was so that she could leave this kind of stress and drama behind. Was Nate determined to follow her wherever she went?

  She again reminded him about his behavior. “The last time you came here, you were drunk out of your mind, and you acted awful. I don’t want Jennifer to see you like that.”

  His voice softened. “Look, I’m sorry about that. I promise I’ll be sober. I’m never touching alcohol again.” Misty chuckled, not believing him. “What’s so funny?”

  “You’ve never been able to stay away from alcohol for long. Plus, you’re not always truthful. Why should I believe you?”

  “Let me come by and explain everything to you next week, okay? I even stopped by the toy store and got something for Jennifer.” Now, that was a surprise. Other than the balloons he’d given Jennifer on their last visit, Nate had never given Jennifer anything. Misty had been forced to provide everything for their daughter and the financial strain of being a single mother drained her. “What time does Jennifer usually go to bed?”

  “I usually have her in the bed by eight thirty.”

  “Okay, I’ll let you know which day I’m coming later. I have to bum a ride with my buddy Mike and I don’t know when he can bring me.”

  “I don’t know, Nate.”

  “Look, when I come, I’ll be by around seven thirty. That way the three of us can spend some time together, like a family.”

  She sighed. She might as well agree. If she didn’t, Nate was so aggressive that he’d probably come without her permission. “Okay. Bye.” She put the phone down. She was not looking forward to Nate’s visit the following week.

  Chapter 22

  So Misty did not know how to cook at all? Sterling forced his eyes open. While he struggled to wake up, he again recalled what had happened at the soup kitchen the previous night. In his lifetime, he’d never heard of not knowing how to cook. Misty had looked so worried. He figured her lack of cooking skills had been shameful for her.

  But he wanted to help her. He just didn’t know how. She didn’t seem to like his idea of his teaching her how to cook. Did she feel intimidated? After all, he’d been cooking since he was a kid. He supposed that was possible. Had he been too hard on her? Although he thought it was weird that she didn’t know how to cook, he didn’t mean to make her feel bad about it.

  He also did not understand why she was going to such great lengths to get Jennifer into that school. Sure, she wanted a good education for her daughter, but, he felt that there was some other reason why she wanted Jennifer to attend that school so badly. He’d replayed their last few conversations in his mind, determined to figure it out. He knew if Jennifer didn’t get accepted Misty would be upset – it’d probably take her a long time to get over her disappointment.

  He finally got out of bed, brushed his teeth and changed into his running clothes. Since his assistants had agreed to open up that day, he didn’t need to go to work until mid-morning. He stepped outside into the sweltering heat and started pounding the pavement. He ran hard for an hour and when he returned to his house, he spotted Misty, Adrian, and Jennifer getting into their car.

  “Misty!” He trotted over to the car. Jennifer grinned, showing her milky white teeth, waving at him.

  “Hi, cutie.” He leaned into the car and fingered Jennifer’s soft, chubby cheek.

  “Hi, Mr. Sterling! Can I come running with you?”

  He chuckled. The image of his running with Jennifer by his side sounded warm and comforting. “Maybe another time, Jennifer.”

  Adrian grinned. “Hi, Sterling. You don’t have to go to the bakery this morning?” She sat in the passenger seat, giving him a wide smile.

  He explained that he didn’t have to go in until later. “I’m just getting some exercise right now.” He focused on Misty. She had her car door open, and she clutched the strap of her black leather purse. Dark circles ringed her lovely eyes. The urge to kiss her worries away consumed him. He wondered if she was upset about what had happened at the soup kitchen.

  “Misty, mind if I talk to you for a minute?”

  She shrugged. “Okay.”

  He took her hand and led her a few steps away from the car to give them some privacy. Touching her face, he enjoyed the soft, silky feel of her dark skin. “I’m sorry. Are you upset about what happened last night?”

  She furrowed her brow. “Huh?”

  “You look upset and tired. I thought you were mad about my making a big deal about you not knowing how to cook.”

  She waved the comment away. “The soup kitchen is the last thing on my mind.”

  Surprised, he dropped his hand from her face. “Oh, well then what’s wrong?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You look like something is bothering you. I want to know what it is.”

  She turned away, scratched the back of her neck. “I don’t have time to talk about this now.” She checked her watch. “I really need to get to work. If I stand out here talking to you for much longer, I’ll be late.”

  “Misty…”

  She threw her hands up into the air. “What?”

  “Don’t push me away. I know you need to get to work but, you can at least tell me what’s wrong.”

  After taking a deep breath, she told him what was on her mind. “Nate wants to come by next week.”

  Memories of Nate’s crude behavior rushed through his mind. “I hope you told him no.”

  Her silence spoke volumes.

  “Misty…�
�

  “He’s Jennifer’s father and I can’t keep them separated forever!”

  “Did you want me to come by just in case Nate doesn’t behave himself?”

  She shook her head. “No, I can take care of myself.”

  Sterling scoffed. “You had a hard time keeping him under control the last time he was here. I wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t shown up?”

  “I’m sure we’ll be fine. Look I have to go. I have a meeting at work and if I’m late, I’ll get in trouble.” She returned to the car, opened her door, slid into her seat and then slammed the door shut. She then drove away, not even glancing back in his direction.

  *

  All day, thoughts of Nate visiting Misty unpleasantly hovered in Sterling’s mind like smoke curling from a burnt cookie. He could imagine Misty’s feelings for Nate returning and then they’d reunite, and the threesome would then be a happy family. Or, was that even possible, given Nate’s awful behavior?

  He dumped flour, baking soda, and salt into the huge mixing bowl, swirling the ingredients together. He then added butter, sugar, vanilla and his secret ingredient before slamming the ON button on his large, standup mixer. He mixed the cookie dough until it was the perfect consistency. He then took a scoop and measured the cookies into even portions, rolling them in sugar and cinnamon before setting them onto the trays before baking. Someone had placed a huge order for cinnamon cookies and he needed these to be done within the next few hours. He lost himself in the work, going through the routine of measuring dough and rolling the cookies in the cinnamon before slamming the trays into the hot oven to bake.

  Soon his sweltering kitchen had enveloped with a wonderful sugary, cinnamon scent. The enticing aroma soothed his frazzled nerves. When he slammed the last tray of cookies into the oven, Eddie came into the kitchen. “Whoa, man, what’s got you so riled up? Are you mad at your brother again?”

  “No, it’s not that.”

  “Well, what’s up?”

  “I don’t feel like talking about it,” he mumbled. He glanced into the front of the bakery where some customers had recently entered. His other assistant was helping the customers, but he didn’t feel like talking to Eddie right now. “I think there are customers up there. You need to go and see what they want.”