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“What?” She said incredulously.
“I know, the issues are online, and I have a subscription. Sometimes I look through my back issues for specific design features I liked. So, I kept them in the oven I never use.” Ethan said.
We all laughed at that, because using the oven to store things was completely him—practical but a little unusual.
“If I have to use anybody else’s oven, what should I check for before I preheat it?” Madison teased.
“Instruction manuals,” I said immediately with a cockeyed grin. “I never use them, but it seems wrong to throw them away. And Noah here hides his porn in his. That way nobody ever sees it if they snoop around his apartment because who’s gonna look in the oven?”
Noah rolled his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I use my oven sometimes. I don’t treat it like an extra closet.”
When we joined her in the kitchen, Madison gave us a quick introduction to the kinds of flour she used, the different leavenings and handed Noah a plastic container. “Here’s my basic muffin mix. We have to add in flavorings and the wet ingredients. If you’ll get six eggs out of the fridge, top shelf, and break them in to a bowl with this sugar,” she measured a heaping scoop of sugar and dumped it in a bowl. Then she selected cranberries and chocolate chips, handing me a grater and an orange.
“Am I shaving it?” I said.
“Zesting it. You slide the grater across the rind and the cute little peels that curl off have a ton of flavor. Don’t grate it into the pith—the white part is bitter,” she told me. I stood at the counter and very gingerly rubbed the jagged tool across the surface of the fruit, watching as miniature orange curls tumbled off the back of it and sprinkled onto the bowl. I looked at Madison as if to say,do you see this? It works!She grinned at me.
“It’s fun,” she nodded.
I kept going and she showed Ethan how to line the muffin cups with parchment paper. He botched the first one twice and swore. “Why is this so complicated?” he grumbled.
“It’s delicate,” she said. “With your background in structural engineering and design, I thought you’d like this part.”
“I would if it were made in any sensible way,” he mumbled, finally assembling the fancy paper muffin cup. “These are ridiculous.”
“You got it,” Madison encouraged him. He huffed and started the next one.
“Careful,” I told her. “If you challenge him, he’s going to stay up all night and use eight rolls of that paper designing a new and better way to do that. He’ll have a patent on it by the end of the month.”
“Maybe not that quickly, but yes,” Ethan said.
“He’s patented several of his designs. They’re all innovations on smaller components of commercial buildings that make things convenient or sustainable,” Noah boasted. Ethan shrugged, clearly pleased but too gruff to say so.
“That’s cool,” Madison said. “I’d love to hear about them sometime.” Ethan didn’t look up from his weird baking paper origami project but made a noise in the affirmative. He was suddenly shy at the praise, and you had to know him very well to understand he wasn’t being stuck up or grouchy. He was overcome and couldn’t say more, stuck in the glow of her admiration. I could understand why. I was never at a loss for words, but I could kind of see how Madison’s full attention, her interest might be more than a man could survive. Her expectant smile was lovely and bright. I had the wild urge never to disappoint her. To promise that, which a man can never promise.
We fell into a rhythm of mixing and pouring, slotting pans of muffins into the oven and starting new batches. We each had our assigned job and, if we didn’t have much skill, we at least helped things get done until she had box after box of finished muffins. She mixed up scones and started on a quiche.
“Since it's inching into fall, I thought I’d do a savory quiche and see how it goes over. Just something with squash and leeks and bacon. What do you think?”
“Bacon? I’m in,” I said.
We took over the chopping of leeks, Ethan learned how to dice the squash and I fried the bacon. By the time we’d beaten the eggs and added some cheese, we had decided on a double batch so we could try it ourselves. When the quiche came out of the oven, bubbling with cheese and smelling of sage and bacon, we were ready to eat. Noah had made coffee, and we had a late-night meal of quiche and muffins.
“That’s it, you can never leave,” Ethan pronounced. “This is incredible.”
“Thank you,” Madison said, her cheeks turning a little pink.
We exclaimed over the meal and helped her pack up the baked goods so she could store them in the shop freezer until they were needed. When she refused our offers to follow her and make sure she got home okay, Noah and I took off. As I was leaving, I decided to turn back and hug her.
“I had a great time. Your muffins are amazing.” I said, kissing the top of her head. She hugged me back and thanked me for my help. It felt so good to hold her, and part of me didn’t want to leave.
9
MADISON
“Ican’t remember the last time I had so much fun,” I confessed as I was cleaning up the kitchen. “Is that the lamest thing you’ve ever heard? I mean it makes it sound like I’m ready for bingo at the retirement home.”
“Not at all,” Ethan said. “It was a great night and even better with you here.”
