Chapter 4
Isabel
“Holly was terrible this morning.” Izzy stormed into the backroom of the bakery twenty minutes later.
Usually the comforting smell of baking bread, tarts and croissants put her in a great mood.
The bakery she’d started about three years ago was doing so well, especially since Skipper had joined as pastry chef.
But this morning? None of that was going to lift her mood, and her husband seemed to realize that as he turned.
But the sight of Skipper in his red bandana and his white apron always gave her a meltdown. And this morning was no different.
“Sorry, sweet thing. She can be a handful,” Skipper said. “I’d give you a hug but...” and he held up hands coated with dough.
“And your sister isn't helping at all.” Using as few words as possible, she told him about Ainsley teaching Holly all the wrong words. “She’s telling our daughter oatmeal is garbage!”
Skipper’s mouth twisted. He broke into his free spirited belly laugh that went right to her gut and then to her heart.
“Stop that.” She tried to give him her fiercest look but it was useless.
She was putty in this man’s hands and he knew it.
Slipping off her jean jacket, Izzy turned to hang it up on one of the hooks, but Skipper grabbed her around the waist. It didn’t seem to bother him that his hands were messy.
And the truth was, she wasn’t bothered either.
“Aw, sweet thing. Hate to see you so upset.” And Skipper kissed her right under her left ear. As usual, he was not playing fair.
“You're terrible. You do know that, right?” She smiled up into his blue eyes. Those eyes took her back to the sunny summer day when they met on the beach. Back then they were both in high school, although he was a little older. Skipper was a lifeguard and she was that summer girl from Chicago.
“I know I’m terrible.” His eyes sparked with mischief. “And I also know you like it.”
Sticky hands or not, he wrapped his arms around her. After one kiss she pushed away. They had to get to work. “I can't decide if it's you or the chocolate croissants that I like better,” she said.
Skipper reached to grab a towel for his hands. “Why don't we take a vote today? I'll put the question on a sign in the window. Kisses or a chocolate croissant?” They always put a sign up about their Special of the Day.
“Don’t you dare.” Izzy slipped into an apron.
“So my sister is being a brat?” Pulling away, Skipper went back to the dough he slammed against the wooden surface of the worktable. “I’m not surprised. She was like that when we were growing up. Ainsley was always telling on me.”
“You probably deserved it. And you were a lot older than Ainsley, so she probably told your parents everything just to get you in trouble.”
“You got it. My younger sister really slowed me down. She could be a brat but when kids were teasing her about the psoriasis on her arms, I went AWOL at high school and showed up for her recess. Those boys never bothered her again.”
“The perfect big brother.” She could picture him defending Ainsley and she knew he’d do the same for Holly. Then the morning conversation with his mom came back to her. “But that's not all. Your mother turned into a real troublemaker this morning.” Izzy leaned against the bakery worktable.
Skipper stopped kneading the dough and looked up. “Really? I thought she was doing great with Holly.”
“She is. But she thinks that Holly should have a baby brother or sister.” She could tell by her husband's expression that he might side with his mother on that one. “You know that can't happen, right?”
“Can't happen?” He went back to work, the muscles in his arms flexing. “Really?”
“Okay. I’m so sorry that I told you about the eggs I froze before my surgery.” She couldn’t believe they were talking about this.
“It’s up to you.” Skipper looked so disappointed.
Her darling husband lifted his sticky hands, like he was giving up. It was amazing how he managed to use his elbows to coax her into his arms. “Babe, I know we just got married. And I guess we should just enjoy each other and Holly for a while.”
“You’re okay with that?” She tugged at a lock of his hair. Wearing that red bandana across his forehead, he did look like a pirate. Marlowe was right.
Skipper brushed her forehead with a kiss. “I don't know how all that girl stuff works. But I would sure welcome a little boy to shoot hoops with out on the driveway.”
Oh, this was too much. He really didn’t get it. Pushing away, Izzy sank onto one of the stools. “It's complicated. And I don't want to go into details right now, okay? You tell your sister to stop teaching Holly words like garbage and no way.”
Izzy heard his gutsy chortle as she walked down the hall to the shop. “Morning, Debbie. You can leave anytime for your appointment.”
Debbie looked up from arranging the pastries. “What was going on back there?”
Izzy flipped the sign in the window to Open. “You really don’t want to know.”