Page 19 of Forbidden to Fall

“Just finished. For the day, at least. I’m going to head up to the house, but I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

James Carver was very thoughtful for a jerk.

“I’m good,” I assured him.

He turned to leave, and I glanced at my cream puffs.

“Actually…”

He stopped and looked at me.

“Do you have a minute?”

His only answer was to walk toward me.

“I just made these. They’re maple cream puffs.” I took one from each batch and set it on a plate.

“They look amazing.”

“I don’t care how they look. Well, I do, but I care more about how they taste.”

There was a pause where we stared at each other.

“You want me to…” He gestured to the cream puffs.

“Yes, James,” I said, half-laughing. “I need you to tell me which one is the best. Each one is slightly different. I think.” I handed him the first of the puffs—the one with the golden maple.

He turned it in his hand, then took a bite, his brows knit.

I watched his face like it held the answers to the mysteries of the universe.

The man chewed and chewed and chewed, torturing me slowly with his indecipherable expression and flexing jaw.

“Well?” I finally said when he’d swallowed.

“It’s delicious.”

“But?” I prompted him with my raised brows.

He hesitated for a second, his eyes searching mine. “The maple is too subtle. I can taste it—I assume you used a golden for this one—but my palate has been trained on this stuff since birth. It’ll fly under the radar for most people.”

I nodded and reached for another cream puff. My hand hovered over the next in sequence. I darted a glance at him, then moved between him and the puffs so I could choose one without him seeing.

I handed it to him—the darkest of the syrups—and he popped it in his mouth.

Since I expected the long wait this time, I felt less on edge. I watched him for any flicker of disgust or ecstasy, but he was too good at concealing whatever he felt.

“Very dark,” he finally said.

I stared. “Can you expound?”

“The maple grade you used. Very dark, right?”

“Oh! Yeah.” This man knew his maple, even after all these years away.

He looked at me for a couple of seconds. “It’s too much.”

Should I have been offended? I wasn’t. I didn’t need someone to pat me on the back. I needed brutal truth so I could make something worthwhile.