“Which you wouldn’t have had to if you’d become a chef,” I said on a chuckle.
“I was eighteen, out on my own for the first time and scared. That never filtered into my brain, Brady.”
“Understandable. Let me guess. You chose business.”
She pointed at me with a grin. “I did. I went to St. Paul College for business and needed to find a job quickly that would work around my school schedule. I got hired on at a little bakery called A Pinch and A Dash. I worked with the owner, Mr. Hennington, who was just the sweetest guy I’d ever met. He was about seventy when he took me under his wing and didn’t just ask me to do the work. He taught me to do the work. He taught me to love it and respect the process. I think I was in school about a month when I was sitting in Business Principles 101, and it hit me. I wanted to be a baker. I changed my major to culinary arts to learn the basics while still working with Mr. Hennington. I took a few business classes at night, so I could successfully run a bakery and get my master baker certificate. The rest is history.”
I put my arm around her and kissed her temple, the emotions welling inside me for the woman I was head over heels for, I had come to realize. “Your history is pretty damn successful, too. What you’ve done to build the business to where it is today is almost unheard of by someone your age.”
She leaned into me and rested her head on my shoulder. “Thank you, but I had help. Amber is in charge of the marketing, and you know she’s a genius at it. My success at The Fluffy Cupcake hasn’t come without expense to my personal life. I haven’t had one to any extent, and I’m almost thirty. I guess that’s why I made that stupid red X on my calendar this year. I wanted to hold myself accountable to start etching out time for more than work.”
“When we’re together, does it feel like you have to etch out time? It sure doesn’t feel that way to me.”
“That’s the weirdest part,” she whispered. “When we’re together, it’s natural. Like—”
“It’s meant to be,” I finished, kissing her then to keep her from saying anything more. I kept the kiss light and close-lipped, considering we were in the middle of the county fair, but I wanted her to remember how natural it felt to be with me. I ended the kiss and gazed into her eyes, all her hopes and dreams laid out in them for me to see. “We should probably head back and get some rest. Your eyes tell me you’re tired.”
“How do my eyes tell you I’m tired?” she asked, standing when I gave her my hand and helped her up.
“When you’re tired, all the walls you keep up around yourself drop and your eyes turn the color of weak coffee. I can see right through them to everything you want, but don’t think you deserve. While I love seeing your hopes and dreams reflected at me, I also know those walls protect you from a lot of things in this world that you’re not prepared to deal with just yet. I don’t want one of those things to blindside you when you aren’t prepared.”
I kept my arm around her waist, and she rested her head on my shoulder while we walked up the midway toward the parking lot where we’d left the bakery van. Every few feet, we had to stop and talk to someone we knew or wave at someone working at one of the food booths. Lake Pendle was a small town, and when it came to Strawberry Fest, everyone pitched in.
“You’re quiet,” I said as we approached the 4-H building.
“You blindsided me with the statement about the walls, and eyes, and being blindsided.”
“I’m sorry?” I asked, stopping and leaning her up against the wall of the building. “That wasn’t what I was trying to do.”
She waved her hand in the air. “I know, and I’m not upset. You don’t have to apologize. It’s weird hearing it from someone else in that way, I guess. I always thought I did a good job of hiding my demons.”
“You do when you’re rested, but not when you’re tired. I just want you to know you don’t have to hide your demons with me. If you get upset and scared, you can yell at me, call me names, tell me to leave you alone, or whatever you need to do, and I will understand why. I will let you do those things because sometimes we all need someone to carry our burdens for a little while.”
“Will you leave me alone?” she asked, staring at the ground instead of my eyes.
I tipped her chin up with my finger until our gazes met again. “Never. I don’t care how much you yell and scream, stomp your foot, or point at the door. I will give you space, but I won’t leave you alone. I’ll run you a bath and fill it with a lavender bubble bath and help you in. I’ll hand you a glass of wine, and while you soak, I’ll make you the most epic French toast you’ve ever had. After you eat, I’ll massage your neck and back while you watch your favorite chick flick or talk about whatever is bothering you. Either way, you’ll know I’m there beside you, silently supporting you through whatever it is that’s causing you turmoil.”
“That’s awfully sweet of you, Brady,” she said, letting her finger trail down my cheek. “I’d do the same for you. Minus the lavender bubble bath, of course.”
I smiled and tossed her a wink before my lips claimed hers again for a hot second. “The only thing I need when I’m full of turmoil is you, a cupcake, and your bed. I’m a simple man that way.”
Her laughter floated on the air as we started walking again toward the car. “Hey, do you want to dart in and look at the 4-H entries before we go home, or are you too tired?”
I motioned at the door of the barn. “Lead on, pretty lady. I love this part of the fair as much as you do. I did 4-H as a kid, once I moved in with my foster parents, and won the bread division every year. My ribbons are still a source of pride for me to this day.”
She bumped me in the shoulder and grinned up at me. “I bet you knocked their socks off with your basil and dill pickle bread.”
I laughed with her as we walked around the edges of the barn where the tables sat filled to the brim with pies, cakes, cookies, tarts, and bread. To say I was impressed was an understatement.
I pointed at one of the tables that held decorated theme cakes for birthdays. “I think we might be missing out on a source of labor in the community.”
She was inspecting a Harry Potter cake when she glanced up at me. “What do you mean?”
“Think about it. These kids are already extremely talented. We could be bringing one or two into the bakery a few times a week for extra help and to teach them more about the process of baking in a large business like The Fluffy Cupcake.”
“You mean as apprentices?”
“Sure, or as part-time help if they want the work. Either way, if they’re in the bakery, they’re learning life skills before they go off to college.”
“Or they stay and work their way up to master baker,” she said, gazing at the cakes spread out before us. “I like the way you think, Brady. I think we should come back tomorrow after the judging is done and write down the names of the winners. We ask one pastry baker and one bread baker if they’d be interested. If they say no, we move to the second-place winner. What do you think?”
My grin must have covered my entire face when I answered her. “I’m all in! I would love to pass on some of the knowledge I learned over the years as a way to repay the bakers who taught me about the craft. That includes you,” I promised, kissing her nose. “But for now, we better get home, or Amber will have our heads when we don’t get all the cupcakes baked for the morning.”