Page 31 of Icing on Top

Somehow a mixing bowl had slipped my mind. Kind of important, but my brain had been so scattered stressing about tonight. It didn’t get any clearer when he squatted down in front of one of the lower cabinets and that damn white tee grew taut across the muscles of his back and broad shoulders. And boy was I sucker for back muscles.

He dug around before retrieving a large plastic bowl. “Like this?” he checked.

I did my best to rein in my thirst and nodded, maintaining eye contact so I didn’t drool, lest his shirt now pull tight across his chest. Did I mention I had a weakness for pecs as well? Okay, maybe I just had it bad for a strong, masculine torso.

My mind flashed back to when he’d picked me up with no effort at all during our one-on-one game and I’d felt him pressed against my back and his solid arms wrapped around my middle. At the same time, though, they’d been soft, and I imagined that he was someone who made you feel safe when he held you. Like you were something precious. Just the thought of it made my heart ache.

Jeremiah quirked a brow, still holding the bowl out to me.

I forced a quick smile as I took the bowl and then turned to place it on the island between myself and Charlie. My safest bet was to focus on the fact that I was here to help her bake the most delicious lemon cupcakes ever. Not to ogle her father. Or wonder what it would be like to cuddle with him.

“All right.” I clapped my hands together, attempting to recenter myself. “Batter first.”

I put Jeremiah to work zesting the lemons and cutting them into quarters. Charlie helped me measure out the dry ingredients. I let her whisk them together while I mixed the butter, oil, and sugar in another bowl, stealing some of the lemon zest from Jeremiah.

“Anything else I can do?’

I raised a brow at him. “Think you could handle the icing on your own?”

“Put me in, Coach.” He saluted.

It was ridiculous, but also terribly attractive. I turned before he could see my smile and gathered what he would need. He listened intently as I talked him through the steps. It was only once he’d been able to recite the recipe step-by-step that I returned to Charlie’s side to finish the batter.

The next part was done by hand, each of us wielding a wooden spoon, so I gave Jeremiah the hand-mixer. No sooner had the thing whirred to life than there was a panicked ‘Oh crap!’ and the kitchen suddenly resembled the inside of a snow globe as confectioner’s sugar rained down around us.

Charlie broke down laughing, and I turned to find Jeremiah rocking a salt and pepper look from the sugar that had caught in his hair and eyebrows. One look at his sheepish expression, eyes wide and smile timid, and I couldn’t hold in my laughter either.

“Way to go, Daddy,” Charlie taunted.

Of course she would take this opportunity to chirp her father. It was her favorite pastime.

“Oh, Tot,” he chuckled. “You are definitely going to need a shower.”

Sure enough, Charlie’s dark locks were almost just as speckled with sugar as her father’s. I could only imagine what I might look like.

“I’ll get you a different shirt to wear,” Jeremiah offered. “It’s all over your back.”

Of course it was, but when did I not get something on me while baking?

“I’d appreciate that. Maybe we should wait until we’ve finished, though. Just in case there’s any other accidents,” I said.

“Not a bad idea.”

“I’m partially to blame. I forgot to tell you to put it on the lowest setting after you’d creamed the butter.”

I stepped over to show him how to adjust the speed, placing my hand over his and praying he couldn’t tell that I was holding my breath. Refusing to succumb to his delicious bergamot cologne, I switched the mixer onto low with a flick of my thumb, making sure he had a good hold on it before I let go. When given proper—and detailed—instructions, Jeremiah was a quick learner, easily turning the machine back off.

“Definitely made that harder than it is,” he said.

“If it makes you feel better, my work apron is covered in flour and batter. Hazard of the job.”

Add on that we had a standing mixer that liked to throw fits, and there were times I walked into the store bathroom not looking much better than Jeremiah.

“Makes me feel a little better,” he allowed, smiling crookedly at me.

I ignored the happy flip my heart did in my chest.

Assured that he would be all right left alone again, I rejoined Charlie. I’d brought purple cupcake liners especially for her, and the knowing smile that crept onto her face when she saw them made me warm all over. We prepped the two cupcake tins, and then I showed her how to use my cookie scoop to get perfectly portioned cupcakes. She didn’t drip any of the batter and Jeremiah kept all the icing ingredients in the bowl this time. My little apprentices were making me proud.