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Her answer makes me feel better. I love her so friggin’ much. I’m already missing her.
“See you later!”
I can’t make out her words as the shower turns on, but I get the gist. At least I have our girls’ night to look forward to. The rest of the summer all of a sudden doesn’t look too exciting.
The rest of the morning passes in a blur of activity. Helping me take my mind off the lonely days ahead. The shop is still closed for repairs thanks to the broken pipe that caused the kitchen to flood, but that doesn’t mean there is any less work. Belinda, the other part-time worker, and I spend most of the morning filling orders that are going out thanks to food apps.
Once the morning rush is over, we start to help out with the cleaning in the back. The front of the shop is fine, untouched by the dirty water, but the kitchen has areas that, while dry, still need to be cleaned so that both Harrison and Cassidy can bake. Currently, Harrison is baking upstairs in his loft and Cassidy is making due with the small thoroughly cleaned corner in the back.
When the parts of the kitchen that aren’t blocked off by a white tarp are clean, I make a funny face over to Belinda. My lower back is aching and my arms feel a bit like jelly from scrubbing so hard but I was pleased with how fast we’d finished. Nodding towards the sink, we wash our hands and forearms before heading to the front.
“Were you with Cassidy when she saw the damage?” Belinda asked.
“No,” I say on an exhale after taking a long drink of water. “I was doing that big delivery. But Harrison told me she took it better than he thought she would.”
“Really? She didn’t cry or rage?”
“Oh no, she did both. She yelled at the hole in the wall for a good five minutes before she lost steam and Harrison dragged her away. But I totally thought she would panic more, you know? Freak out about not being able to use the machines and all that. Didn’t even cross her radar though. So says Harrison at least.”
Belinda’s eyes grow wide, in amazement or skepticism I wasn’t sure. The memory of Cassidy being wrapped around her very hunky neighbor comes to mind as a reason she was being more levelheaded than usual, but I hadn’t bugged her about that yet. I was giving her a grace period before I demanded she spill the beans. Cass had done everything in her power to avoid me yesterday and my curious questions.
“I’m going to —” Belinda’s words are cut off by the ringing of the shop’s phone. “To pick that up,” she finishes. Nodding, I make the gesture of going upstairs.
Heading through the kitchen again and out the back door, I pivot to the right and leap up the steel stairs that led to Harrison’s open concept loft. I don’t bother knocking, knowing Harrison always leaves the door open when he’s baking.
The pleasing smells of sugar and melted chocolate hit me as soon as I enter. It’s instant happiness and relaxation. Harrison’s back is to me as he bends and retrieves something from the oven. Spinning, he gives me a nod, his oven mitted hands full. With two-day old scruff along his jaw and a wariness around his ocean blue eyes, Harrison doesn’t look like his normally put together self.
Two years ago, when Bake, Rattle & Roll opened and I’d been interviewing for a job here, I’d been skeptical of Harrison. Not only was he the grumpy half to his quirky sister but I didn’t think a man who looked like him – tall, muscular, and yes, gorgeous – could bake. I know, I hate myself for thinking that too. Because not only was it sexist, but it also showed just how fucked up my perspective was. I was viewing the world from a tiny lens. Letting my past experiences cloud my judgement.
Not only did he prove me wrong with his drool-worthy baking skills, he also let me into his life. Showing me what it meant to be a part of a team, a solid family. He is one of my favorite people – though he hates when I say shit like that to him.
“Something’s off,” he says suddenly, eyes on me. I’m so lost in my own thoughts I immediately think he’s talking about me. It’s not until he looks down at the tray in front of him with a frown do I realize he hasn’t developed the ability to read minds. It’s his cupcakes he’s talking about. Rounding the kitchen island, I assess his creations, instantly spotting the problem.
“The sprinkle colors are off.”
“What?”
“The sprinkle colors are off!” I repeat in a loud voice, making fun of his grandpa hearing. He pushes at my shoulder, causing me to stagger to the side, laughing. Dork!
“I meant, explain what you mean. We use these sprinkles all the time.”
“I’m not saying they’re not good sprinkles. I’m saying that for this particular cupcake, since you’ve made a red velvet base with sky blue frosting, that the shade of sprinkles don’t work. They’re too dark and pull the cupcake away from the whimsical feel you’re going for.”
Harrison makes a thoughtful sound, leaning down to examine the cupcakes closer. “Huh. You’re right.”
“I know.”
“Okay smartass, rein it in a little, yeah?”
I snort at him, not going to let my keen eye and awesome advice be forgotten so quickly. “I could mix up some new colors for you. Custom sprinkles on the house.”
Running his tongue along his teeth, Harrison continues to stare at his cupcakes. “You remember how to do that?”
“I’ve worked with you and Cassidy long enough to have picked up some skills. I’ve got nothing going on this weekend, how about I make a batch and bring them in on Monday?”
He’s nodding before I even finish my sentence. “I like that. Take all the food coloring you need. I won’t be making these cupcakes again until Tuesday anyway. Gives me time to finesse this recipe.”
“These for GiveMeEats app?”
