21
TAYLOR
BAKING MY WAY TO THE TOP
“Shall I start to load up?” Jesse asks, eying the organized chaos that the kitchen has become since I started baking yesterday. Every surface is covered with baked goods ready to be transported to the Ten Meadows County farmers market and the stall that will give me my first chance to sell to people I don’t know.
It’s been fun baking for Barb’s charity event and Beth’s book club. I had a small stall at the elementary school fundraiser, but all proceeds went to the school courtesy of Jesse’s kind donation of ingredients.
But today, all the money I make will be reinvested into my business. Taylor-Made Bakes is transforming from a pipe dream to reality, and I couldn’t be happier.
“Yes, please.” I glance out of the window at the Taylor-Made Bakes delivery vehicle. It’s been customized with refrigeration to keep everything nice and cool. It started off white, but Clint designed a logo, and Maverick took the time to paint it onto the side of the truck, so now it’s a riot of colorful lettering and cute baked goods. Every time I look at it, I want to squeal.
I rub my hands over my pink pants, which perfectly coordinate with the pink t-shirts I ordered with my logo emblazoned across the front. Clint came home with a pink hair accessory, which I’ve fastened over my ponytail. It’s a crazy kitsch look, but I’m embracing it. If I want people to remember me, I’ve got to be memorable.
Maverick appears in the kitchen doorway. “I’m ready for my man duties,” he says, rubbing his hands together so vigorously, it’s a miracle he doesn’t start a fire.
“Better get to it,” I laugh, “before Jesse out-mans you.”
“Never!” Maverick makes a bodybuilder pose, flexing his deliciously curved biceps, and I double over with the giggles.
“Maverick. You’re so crazy,” Molly says.
Before she has a chance to escape, Maverick swoops in to grab her around the middle and lift her off her feet. “Crazy, huh?”
She’s squealing and kicking, and the ruckus is just what I need to distract me from my nerves. Jeez. I’m starting to wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.
Clint arrives back from checking on the workers. He drops his hat on the shelf above the coat rack and immediately heads to me, ignoring Maverick and Molly’s noise. He rests his hand on the back of my neck, running his rough thumb across my jawline. “You okay?” he asks. The intensity in his pale eyes settles me as much as the power of his body close to mine and the strength of his hand against my skin. “My heart feels like it’s going to beat its way out of my chest.” I grimace.
“You’ve got this,” he whispers. “No one bakes like you, Taylor.”
“You sure you’re not biased?”
“I’m a proud husband, that’s for sure. But my taste buds don’t lie.” He bends to press a soft kiss against my lips and wraps his strong arms around me, enveloping me in a big bubble of security and peace. Since our heart-to-heart, he’s let go of the barriers, and everything feels different.
As I draw away, Jesse’s back with empty hands. “Are either of you planning on helping me?” he grumbles.
Maverick lowers Molly and Clint and lets his arm fall from my shoulder. “YES, SIR!” they both yell, putting their hands to their foreheads in a military-style salute. Jesse mutters an expletive under his breath, and Molly wags a finger at him.
“Jesse said a bad word. You’ve got to put a dollar in the jar.”
“Bad Jesse,” Maverick grins.
“Come on, boys. It’s time to get this show on the road.”
“Don’t forget your business cards and order forms.” Clint points to the pile near the window.
I slap the heel of my hand against my forehead. “I swear I need to write a list. My brain is cooked.”
“Baked,” Maverick corrects.
“Exactly!”
I watch as Molly helps Maverick balance two boxes of cakes in his arms, her expression so happy, I could cry just looking at it. I worried so much that she’d hate the situation, I brought her into and that she’d think less of me for loving three men and sharing their beds, but she loves them as much as I do. She sees their gentleness behind their rugged exteriors and has settled into this life with as much speed as I did.
When we arrive, the farmers market is quiet. Early stallholders are already setting up, but it won’t open for customers for another hour or so. Molly traveled with me in the T-M-B delivery truck, and Maverick followed us with Jesse and Clint.
Tables are provided, and I meet with the organizer to find out where my stall will be.
He ticks me off on his clipboard and shows me a two-table pitch. The first thing I do is cover the tables with my pink tablecloths and hang my sign across the front. When I’ve been doing this for longer and I have some money in the bank, I’ll order an overhead banner kit for additional impact.
My gorgeous, supportive cowboys and sweet, helpful sister begin to shuttle all the cakes, pastries, and pies, and I organize the display, marking everything with pink labels and price tags. There are four flavors of muffins, four flavors of brownies, six different types of cakes, cookies, sweet, fruity pastries, and savory pies. I find the boxes and bags and set out a little wrapping station at the end. There’s so much to think of, and I’m flushed and hot before a single customer arrives.
When everything is ready, Jesse stands facing the stall with his arms folded across his chest. He’s like a proud father, exactly the kind of father I wish I’d had. He’s given me all the encouragement and support I should have received from my parents to achieve my dreams. I couldn’t be more grateful.
“I need a photo of this,” he says, searching for his phone.
“Molly,” I call, waving her over.
She shakes her head. “Just you, Taylor. This is yours.”
My heart swells with love and gratitude as I tip my face, hold out my arms, and beam my biggest smile. When Jesse snaps enough pictures to be certain he’s got a good one, my first customer arrives, and my dreams become reality all over again.