Chapter 20
@TGDpub: [Photo: a swirl of hazelnut coffee mousse in a glass dish, topped with a delicate almond lace cookie. In the background,
a smudge of chocolate on Daphne’s cheek . . . and Finn definitely looking at her instead of the mousse.] Test kitchen got
a little out of hand today. But the mousse? Worth it. #HazelnutHeaven #DefinitelyDidntLickTheSpoon #WorthItInMoreWaysThanOne
Comments:
@JackAustenPhotography: Oh no! They’re posting photos together now. What’s next? A puppy? A couples’ cooking class? Matching aprons?? #HelpABrotherOut
#Gross
@PastorNateNHC: Temptation comes in many forms. Apparently, one of them is hazelnut. #LeadUsNot #ButDeliverUsDessert
@SecondHandTreasures: @PastorNateNHC I don’t think the hazelnut is what’s leading Finn into temptation #ChocolateSmudge #DirectEyeContact
@TeaThymeNC: Do none of you follow the romance code of minding your own business?!
@JackAustenPhotography: Those codes are more like guidelines really. #SmallTownProblems #BlurredButBelievable
@WisteriaToyBox: Siri, how do I explain “smolder” to my toddler? Asking for a friend. And by “friend,” I mean myself.
@OldManRutherforton: My wife and I got together over a dropped piecrust and a broken measuring cup. Don’t fight fate. #ThePowerOfChocolate #OldManWisdom
@ClemAtTheGym: My man Finn out here using ganache as a love language. Respect. #WhatRutherfortonSaid
@MayorWilsonOfficial: This town is one cheesecake away from live-streaming a proposal. Pace yourselves, people.
@TGDPub: Did Daphne just type “romance” in reference to a certain dashing Brit? #GrinningLikeAFool #TeamRomance #WhoIsWithMe
@RosemaryatThyme: You know, @TGDpub @TeaThymeNC . . . I really think you two should start a YouTube channel or something. People would devour
the content. Sugar and spice, baby.
@TeaThymeNC: @TGDPub Did I mention romance? I thought we were discussing chocolate. #DrawYourOwnConclusions #IHaveAJobToDo
@WisteriaGeneralStore: New apron drop: “Sugar. Spice. And One Very Distracted Brit.” Design includes a teacup and coffee mug in close proximity
followed by a trail of chocolate kisses. #Unashamed #Here4TheTension
@WisteriaBookClub: We’re officially taking bets.
A) Kiss happens before the wedding
B) OR during the next dessert test
#ResearchInTheNameOfRomance
@SecondHandTreasures: I’ll bring the mistletoe. Doesn’t matter that it’s September. #TrueLoveHasNoDeadline #TheChocolateSpeaks
The kitchen table looked like a battlefield of mismatched plates—torn bread crusts, half-full soup bowls, slivers of pie,
and the aftermath of three different entrées—all in various stages of taste testing.
But menu planning had never been this fun.
At least not for Daphne.
Now that she wasn’t trying to dissect Finn’s every intention or shield her heart from possible catastrophe, their banter had
only gotten more enjoyable . . . with a few bonus hugs and kisses sprinkled in like cinnamon on top. Warm, sweet, a little
addictive.
“Okay, so here’s the test.” Daphne tore off a piece of honey oat bread and dipped it into Finn’s beef bourguignon. The rich
sauce hit her tongue like a velvety bomb of flavor.
“Oh . . .” She closed her eyes and chewed. “That’s . . . annoyingly good.”
“Annoyingly?” Finn smirked. “Then it’s definitely mine.”
She handed him a piece of the bread. “Try it.”
He did as she instructed, his eyes widening as the flavors melded. “All right, that’s not bad at all.”
“Not bad?” She lifted her half-eaten bread toward him in a toast. “My bread just made your dish exceptional.”
“I’ll admit,” he said, reaching around her for another dip, “it’s a game changer.” His gaze lingered on her face with that
slow-burn look that made her forget all about bourguignon. “But maybe it’s my stew making your bread exceptional.”
His voice dropped just enough to trigger a flutter under her ribs. Mercy! How was she supposed to stay objective when he sounded like her favorite audiobook narrator and looked like a kitchen ad in a European magazine?
“Fine,” she conceded with a grin. Either way she won. “We’ll call it a tie.”
He held her gaze for a second longer, heat lingering like a slow simmer, then stepped back with a mischievous glint. “Now
for a test of my smoky tomato bisque as a starter for the wedding meal.” Finn waggled his brows and held out a spoonful of
his newest creation. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’ll change your life.”
That playfulness. It was starting to grow on her in ways she hadn’t anticipated—stretching her humor, inspiring her creativity,
gently untangling all her old defenses and offering this sense of sweetness in their relationship.
And the way he looked at her? Like she was still the loveliest woman in the world, even with flour in her eyebrows and a lopsided
knot of hair on her head? It was a miracle she wanted to accept as a daily perk.
Oh, so sweet!
Her gaze trailed to his, those creamy brown eyes lit, his lips crooked in adorable challenge, all while a stray lock of hair
dripped over his forehead like a tease.
Okay, sweetness with a whole lot of spice wrapped in one frustratingly irresistible package. But didn’t the best things in
life require a healthy balance?
“That one percent is concerning.” She eyed the spoon. “What’s the risk?”
“It might ruin all future soups for you. Forever.”
She leveled him with a look despite her smile’s desperate escape plan, and opened her mouth. He brought the spoon to her lips
with slow, deliberate care in a wonderfully intimate move. It made her chest ache in the best way.
The moment the bisque hit her tongue, her body relaxed. It was smooth with layers of depth—perfectly seasoned and utterly
decadent.
“Oh, that’s good.”
“Yeah?” He leaned over and kissed her. “A reward for your excellent taste.”
Her grin burst free. “Whose reward are we talking about here?”
He looked mildly offended and then leaned in again. “Both. We deserve it.”
And he kissed her again, longer this time. Okay, so maybe she’d held him in place a little too. But if he was handing out rewards, he needed to commit to the full prize package.
Gracious! Cooking with her boyfriend really was one of the hottest things she’d ever done. Or dreamed of. Or even dared to
wish for—and she wasn’t even halfway through her streusel bars yet.
They were working out of his kitchen this afternoon, since Margaret was coming by soon to whisk Lucy off to the children’s
museum. The rain hadn’t let up, but Lucy was still all smiles, building a throne for Winston out of soup cans and napkin rings.
Surprisingly, Finn’s kitchen was in good order. Not label-perfect like hers, but intuitive. Thoughtful. Clean in the way a
space is when someone actually cares about what they’re creating.
“You know my cheddar chive scones?” she asked as she sprinkled brown sugar over the apple streusel topping.
He nodded instantly. “That would make a perfect pairing. Do you think you could make a batch this morning for us to try out?”
“Sure.” She reached for a clean bowl. “Just let me finish this first.”
He scribbled the addition onto their nearly finalized menu. “I’ve got a few folks lined up to help prep and serve, so we should
be covered on numbers.”
“Great.” She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She’d forgotten about needing extra hands for something
like this.
Her eyes caught Finn sneaking another forkful of her lavender and lemon chess pie—his fourth . . . no, fifth bite?
“What are you doing?”
He froze mid-bite. “Quality control,” he said solemnly, licking a bit of cream from his thumb. “It’s called professionalism, Daphne.”
“It’s called sugar rush, Finn.” She lunged for the dish, but he caught her and kissed her cheek.
She sighed into him, resting her palms against his arms. “You think we can really do this?”
His brow creased and he searched her face. “I know we can.”
The certainty of his voice steadied her.
She nodded. “Right. We can.”
A gust of wind rattled the windowpane, the kind that made trees sway and made you second-guess your outdoor plans. They both
turned toward it.
“Still coming down out there?” She looked over at him. “I heard about a few flash flood warnings south of here overnight.
The Ashbourne River and Penner’s Creek are rising fast.”
Finn raised a brow. “Is that unusual?”
Oh, right. He didn’t know Wisteria weather patterns yet. “That creek barely trickles most of the year. But the ground’s already
soaked. If the wind keeps picking up . . .”
He winced. “Wet ground and high winds. That’s . . . not ideal.”
“But we’ve still got three days,” she said brightly, injecting as much optimism into her tone as she could. “The storm could
pass. Things might clear up by Friday. Maybe soggy—but doable. If the roads don’t close.”
He nudged her hip with his. “Let’s not cast worry for future problems.” His arm slipped around her. “Right now, our job is
to make this the best wedding menu anyone’s ever tasted. The kind of thing that goes viral, makes us famous, and lands us
interviews with food bloggers who wear bow ties and know obscure cheeses.”
“Famous, huh?”
“All right, maybe not famous famous.” He dipped his fork back into the chess pie. “But a steady stream of customers wouldn’t hurt.”
He popped another bite into his mouth just as a wall of rain slammed against the window. His arm tightened around her instinctively.
“So . . .” She tried for casual. “If the roads do wash out—what’s plan B?”
“We improvise.” He leaned back against the counter again, drawing her toward him. “We’re smart and capable people. Between
the two of us, we could probably cater a wedding from a canoe.”
She snorted. “Only if you bring your secret espresso bean stash to keep up your paddling stamina.”
“Oh, luv.” He gave her a look of mock insult. “You think I don’t already have a waterproof tin labeled Caffeine Apocalypse?”
She rolled her eyes and threw a wadded paper towel at him. He caught it with ease—and she leaned in, pressing a quick kiss
to his mouth as his reward.
Because honestly?