“Amber!” I exclaimed, jogging around the end of the table to hug her. “What the heck happened here?”
She was already laughing before she spoke. “I swear, Haylee, everyone wants a taste of your fluffy cupcakes!”
“Too bad,” Brady growled under his breath, “She’s all mine.”
I snorted, and Amber rolled her eyes, the shine of us getting together having worn off the second week we spent making googly eyes at each other, as she put it. While she was kidding, we did try to keep our relationship, to whatever extent that was, to a minimum at the bakery, just like we’d promised each other. It was easy right now. We were too busy to worry about anything other than getting our orders done. It would get harder if this lasted into winter when the tourists left, and we didn’t have as much to do every day.
“Someone tried the new chocolate cupcake, started telling everyone about it, and they were like a pack of rabid wolves in here. It was something else. I was afraid I was going to lose a finger.”
“But the question is, did people actually like them once they got one in their paw?” I asked, leaning my hip on the table.
“I’m telling you—it was like nirvana around here the way people’s eyes were rolling around in their heads when they took a bite. If we could package that feeling and sell it, we’d be rich.”
“Well, we can,” Brady said from the other side of the table. “It’s called cupcakes in a box. Voila.”
Amber and I both chuckled. He was right. I was thrilled to hear that they had gone over so well. “I’m honestly surprised. Usually, you have the people who love Hostess cupcakes and the people who can’t stand them. There’s very few who sit on the fence about them.”
Amber pointed at me. “I had many who bought them so they could complain about how fake they tasted blah, blah,” she said, waving her hand. “One bite, and they were moaning along with everyone else. The Able Baker Brady cakes gave people that feeling of being a kid again, but also they pleased their more grownup palate.”
“The Able Baker Brady cakes?” Brady asked with skepticism, and she nodded. “That’s what I started calling them. They were your idea, after all.”
I nodded and winked at him. “They were your idea and a damn good one. We need to make another batch to sell tomorrow then,” I said right away. “People can fill up on those until we break out the Berry Sinful samples.”
“We can whip them up fast in the morning,” Brady agreed. “We don’t have to be here until one, and we don’t have any special orders for the morning, which we did on purpose. The lack of bread here is a problem we have to address, though.”
Amber spun to face him. “They heard that Able Baker Brady’s bread was on display, and they all wanted to poke a loaf or two.” Brady and I burst out laughing at the same time, our shoulders shaking until Amber couldn’t hold it in either. “You two are sickos!”
Brady glanced at the two loaves left on the table. “It looks like all the kitschy flavors are gone.”
“Kitschy,” Amber said, laughing, “exactly what everyone was calling them, too.”
“You know what I mean,” he said with laughter filling his voice. “I’ll make more of those tonight and worry less about the others. There will only be so much time, even if I go in a few hours early.”
“You know what they say,” Amber said on a wink. “Better to leave them wanting more and knowing where to get it than wear them all out in a weekend.”
I hugged her one last time and walked back around the table where Brady put his arm around me. “I didn’t know anyone said that. As for me, I’m all about being worn out all weekend.”
We walked out of the tent with grins on our faces and her laughter filling our ears.
Eighteen
The fair was bustling. There were families with young kids and the elderly wandering down the paths to check out the displays. Later tonight, when the midway opened, the teens and young people would flood the place. I was glad I would be at home sleeping. Haylee took a bite of her pronto pup and moaned softly, garnering a look from me as we walked toward a bench under a tree.
“This reminds me of my teenage years,” she said, licking mustard off her lip. It was my turn to release a soft moan because I wanted to do the licking.
“You came to the fair a lot as a kid?” I asked, licking my lips of the ketchup I’d put on my dog.
“I worked here as a teenager. All the fair food you could eat and six bucks an hour cash. It was every kid’s dream. My hips and ass are proof.”
My eyes drifted to her lower half. “Remind me to thank the fair before we leave.”
She snickered and lowered herself to the bench, our early morning catching up to her. We were used to working early and long hours, but working those hours and then baking all afternoon added to the fatigue we were already fighting. Of course, if we stopped making love all night and got some sleep, that might help. That wasn’t nearly as much fun, though. As much as I hated the idea, we’d have to leave soon and head back for a nap before we had to bake again tonight.
“We should head home,” Haylee said, finishing her food. “We need to be baking again in,” she checked her watch, “eight hours.”
“Can we spend those next eight hours in your bed?” I asked, tossing our garbage in a can and sitting next to her to people watch.
“Only if our eyes are closed, and we’re not wrapped around each other.”
“Zero out of ten, do not recommend.”
She laughed, her head tossed back as it shook back and forth with her beautiful brown hair gleaming in the sunshine. “You are too much, Able Baker Brady.”
“Where did this Able Baker Brady thing come from?” I asked, perplexed.
When she turned to me, her face was filled with shock. “You know, Able Baker Charlie from the Richard Scarry books?”
My head tipped to the side. “Uh, no, but I didn’t have your typical childhood.”
She nodded, her eyes clouding over for a moment. “I didn’t either, but when I moved in with Amber, she made sure I had all those experiences I missed out on as a kid. We watched the cartoon shows that I wasn’t exposed to before, and read books that were silly when you were fifteen, but helped me understand why people held them in their hearts so dearly. We watched old movies like E.T. and Back to the Future, and listened to music from the eighties. She even made me work with her at the fair, so I could experience what other kids took for granted. I wasn’t a fan of the midway, it did nothing for my stomach, but the food?” She rubbed her belly and grinned. “I appreciated the hell out of that experience. The fair is the reason I became a chef.”
“Seriously?” I asked in shock. “I guess you’ve never said what brought you to that decision.”
She motioned out across the open field they used for showing animals and at the barn beyond. “Every year, the kids who were in 4-H, and women in home economic groups, submitted items to the fair to be judged, right?” she asked, and I nodded. “I loved going to the barn at the end of every shift to see what had been added. Some of the meringue pies were fabulous, Brady. Seriously, it took me years to learn how to make a meringue stand up like that. I was fascinated by it and started experimenting at home. Trust me, Amber’s family never argued about tasting my experiments. When I graduated from high school, the idea of becoming a chef never crossed my mind. I just wanted a stable career, so I never had to worry about where my next meal was coming from again.”