CHAPTER 23
Tally
Other than the wildflower meadows, there’s nowhere I love more than the inside of a kitchen. Whether it’s the hustle and bustle of a restaurant or the quiet solitude I find in my own home, when I’ve got a whisk in my hand and flour on my face, I’m content.
Probably because it’s the only place in the world where I truly fit and am driven by pure intuition. The moment my fingers sink into a pound of dough, kneading it with just the right pressure, I know what to do.
And when I don’t, I play. I test out every ingredient until I find the right mixture. Pinch the right amount of salt or spice without second-guessing myself.
There isn’t much else in life that I understand, but here, in the kitchen, I’m sure of myself.
It’s the same way I feel when I’m with Walker.
It seems like no matter how many times I mess things up, he’s still standing there, trying to hide a smile behind the brim of his hat.
Understanding me in a way I don’t think anyone else has ever really tried to.
For so long I’ve been gone from this town, from my home.
I’ve run from kitchen to kitchen and felt like an imposter in each because, unlike the pastry chefs I worked with, I didn’t have the proper schooling.
I was the person they hired to make it through the busy season, never really belonging. Just an extra pair of hands.
Maybe after I go to culinary school—when I finally have the proper education and training—I’ll be worthy of more. I’ll be able to stop and put down roots somewhere.
My mind wanders to lazy mornings spent in the fields, followed by runs downtown and busy mornings in a bakery. Mabel’s old bakery. I imagine how amazing it would be to spend my mornings catching up with my sister before rushing back to my own store to do the one thing I love: bake.
“What are you doing?” Walker’s gruff voice shakes me from my daydream.
I spin, holding up the spatula to him. “Making apology cupcakes.”
Walker’s frown turns into a long sigh, and he ruffs one of those big hands across his face. “I told you, you’re forgiven.” He strolls past me and goes to the sink to scrub off the day’s work from his hands.
“Still, I wanted to do something for you and my mom.” Because, although they both say everything is fine, I still feel terrible about what happened.
Now I study Walker as he drops his gaze to the ground and slides his hands in the pocket of his Wranglers before stepping up next to me.
From this close, I can see speckles of green in his deep brown eyes.
God, he’s beautiful. I step back. If I don’t, I’m liable to wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him.
“So you like to bake?” He glances over my shoulder at the mess I’ve made.
“I’ll clean it up, I promise.”
Walker sighs. “That’s not what I was saying. I’m—” He pulls at his hair. “Fuck, I’m no good at this.”
I take pity on him and his inability to make conversation. Or maybe on my inability to trust that someone actually wants to make conversation with me. That I have anything worth telling. “Yes, I bake.”
“Professionally, or …?”
I smile over my shoulder as I take out the measuring cup and begin sifting through the ingredients on the counter. “Yeah. My first wedding cake was probably five years ago in Vermont.”
“So you were, what, twenty …?”
As I dump the eggs I’ve just beaten into the mix, I smirk at him. “Trying to figure out my age, Cowboy?”
He shakes his head but a smile teases his lips. “Something like that.”
“I was twenty-one. It was my third winter away—since you’re nosy and need all the facts.” He nods in response so I continue. “It was my second year at that particular resort, and since the chef I worked with the year before learned I had an interest in baking, he put me on that line.”
“So that’s what you prefer? Baking?”
I nod. “When I was in high school, I worked in the local bakery in town. It’s not open anymore, but I loved it there. There’s something so soothing about being in a kitchen. My mind relaxes when it’s just me and ingredients.” I reach for the vanilla and add a teaspoon to the cake mixture.
Walker folds his arms across his chest and leans against the wall. “That’s how I feel out on the farm.”
I grab the mixer and turn it on. “My dad was the same way. So was Mom.”
“But not you or Penny?”
I pause the mixer, holding it midair. “Just never felt like it was mine. And Penny had books. I guess I always wanted something that was my own, too.” I set the mixer back in the bowl and turn it on.
“So why not open up your own bakery?” he asks, loudly enough that I can hear him over the noise. “Is it because you love to travel? Don’t want to stay in one place?”
“So many questions, Cowboy.” Satisfied no lumps remain in the batter, I turn off the mixer and get out the first cupcake pan.
Then I reach for the cooking spray and grease the pan before pouring some of the batter into each cup.
“First one down,” I mumble as I place the pan in the oven and set the timer.
“Guessing you don’t want to answer.”
“I’ll answer yours if you answer mine?”
He pauses, then shrugs. “Okay. Within reason.”
I laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in your darkest secrets.”
Something passes over his face, an unease that has me wondering what type of secrets Walker could be hiding.
“I’ll go first. Do I want a bakery? Sure, one day. It’s not that I love traveling. It’s just the only way to get real experience in kitchens without schooling.”
“And why not go to school?”
“That’s two questions.”
He straightens. “Okay, you go.”
I begin the same steps to make the next batch of cupcakes. “How old are you?”
Walker groans. “Really?”
I chuckle. “What? You wanted to know how old I was. Why can’t I ask you?”
“Just didn’t expect it, I guess. I’m thirty-four.”
“Is there a Mrs. Walker I should know about?”
He glowers. “Do you think I’d be here if there was a Mrs. Walker?”
That answer makes me far too giddy. He’s here because we work together. Because we live together. But the way he answered makes it clear that he’s not standing in this room right now because of work.
“Also, that was two questions,” he says a little less gruffly.
“Yeah, but then you hit me right back with a question.”
He huffs and I giggle. I put down the whisk I used to stir the eggs and step closer to him. His chin dips as I press a finger against his chest, then dance two up as I hold his attention. “But ask me another one. I’m an open book.”
It takes me a moment to realize what I’ve done. We’re close. Too close. My chin is tipped up. His is down. We’re sharing the same breath. If I moved just an inch, our lips would press together. He’d probably wrap a hand around my neck and tug me closer. It’d be perfect.
“I can’t fucking think when you’re this close to me.” His eyes widen as if he can’t believe he said that aloud.
Neither can I.
“So stop thinking,” I murmur, leaning in. God, I want to kiss him. But I hold myself right where I am, waiting for him to take that miniscule step to claim my mouth.
“I can’t do that, either,” he mutters before sighing and stepping back slightly. “Is there a Mr. Tally anywhere?”
I shake my head. “I don’t do relationships. I don’t stay anywhere more than a few months.”
The apple of his throat bobs, and his eyes dip to my lips again.
Then my phone rings loudly and my heart rate skyrockets as I jump back in surprise. “Jeez,” I mutter before grabbing the phone and saying hello to my sister on FaceTime.
“Oh my God!” Penny squeals, her normally alabaster skin bright red.
“What?”
“We’ve gone viral! We’re viral! The farm is famous!”
“What are you talking about?”
She lets out a loose, maniacal laugh. “You’re both going to be happy I’m so obsessed with social media after this. I’m going to save the farm!”
I set the phone on the counter as I settle on a stool. “How?”
“Walker’s cowboy videos! They’ve gone viral. Everyone is asking about the farm and the hot cowboy.”
“Not a cowboy,” Walker grumbles as he sidles up next to me.
I glance at him over my shoulder and tell him to shush.
“Whatever, we’ll buy you a pony or something.
” Penny rolls her eyes and then she puffs air at her bangs, trying to get them out of her face.
“This is amazing, Tally. The video you made him do walking around the farmers market with his hat on has gone viral. Everyone’s asking where they can find themselves a Walker. ”
I feel a strange surge in my chest, a tightening that makes me want to claw at anyone who even looks his way. I can call Walker “Cowboy.” But everyone else better back off.
“How exactly is that going to save the farm?” Walker puts the last few words in quotes with his fingers.
Penny’s face falls. “Well, I don’t know. But the video has one hundred thousand likes. And I’ve already started responding to every comment, telling them about the farmers market and the festival. Plus, I said we host weddings. We can do something with this. We’ve got fans, Tally!”
“Well, Walker has fans.” I murmur. “We need to make the farmers market bigger. We need more to sell. And for the festival.” I’m thinking out loud, trying to figure out what we can do.
Walker leans against the counter. “We’ve got wildflowers we can sell. The tulips are a no-go for now, as are the daffodils. We need them for the festival and the weddings.”
I nod. “Wildflowers work.”
“What about your cupcakes?” Walker asks, turning to me.
“Cupcakes?” my sister parrots.
“Yeah, Tally bakes. She can sell cupcakes,” Walker says, his voice stronger now, his stature tall.
“Yes! Oh my God, you know what we need? Walker eating one of your cupcakes!”
My thighs clench. I shouldn’t be turned on by this conversation, but my brain clearly isn’t working properly. Or maybe it’s the way Walker smirks at me like he’s thinking the very same thing.
“Yeah, Tally, I’d be happy to eat your cupcakes so we could save the farm.”
I kick him in the shin, and he buckles over with a laugh. My eyes widen because I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh. It’s a beautiful, deep sound that has my heart racing.
“What’s happening?” Penny asks, completely oblivious as she gets out a pen to take notes.
“Nothing,” I mumble, not willing to share this moment. I want Walker’s laughs, his smiles, his damn dimple, all to myself. “Walker and I will handle the wildflowers and cupcakes. And the cowboy videos. Need anything else?”
She glances down at her pad, where she’s probably got a whole list of ideas.
“No,” she replies, sounding distracted. “I’ll talk to Mom and Rosie and call you back.” My sister’s copper eyes meet mine in the phone. “We’re going to save the farm.”
A smile blooms across my face as I feel a tinge of hope in my chest. “Yeah, we are.”
“Bye, Cowboy!” my sister sings right before the screen goes black.
Walker groans. “Look what you started.”
I grin up at him. “You think this could work?”
“Maybe.”
The oven dings and I bounce toward it to grab the first batch of cupcakes. “Okay, well, I’ll frost these and then we can get some video of you eating them.”
Walker’s head falls back and he lets out the sexiest chuckle I’ve ever heard. It’s shocking and loud and makes my stomach flip. “This is ridiculous, you know that?”
I smile and bite down on my bottom lip. “What do you think of picking some flowers for decoration? It would really sell the farm if the cupcakes are decorated properly.”
He nods as he takes a step closer. “I can do that. Any special requests?”
It’s not even a question. “Wildflowers.”
Walker’s lips tip up in a warm smile and he nods. “All right, wildflowers for my wildflower.”
He disappears before I realize what he just said. And I wonder whether it was a slip of the tongue, or did he really mean to call me his?