Chapter 12 Jules #2
My brows knit together. I had not a clue what he was talking about, even though I wanted to believe it was about him coming to tell me he just couldn’t stay away and ignore what had been starting between us. “Pardon?”
He ran his fingers through his hair and was beyond frustrated when he asked, “Can I just buy some cookies from you?”
Cookies.
This was about cookies.
“Your attempt at making them didn’t go so well?” I asked.
He shook his head and held up a bag. “I made two attempts. Both failed.”
The last thing I wanted to do was let my guard down around him, but some of his expressions now made sense. The defeat he must have felt was about the results he’d gotten with his attempts at baking.
I held out my hand. “Well, let’s see what you did wrong.”
Beau lowered the bag, caution etched into his features, and refused to give it to me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I’m nervous about letting you try these. They… They’re not good at all.”
For the first time since he walked up, I relaxed a bit and smiled at him. “If you think I haven’t experienced my fair share of baking blunders, you’re mistaken. The only way to learn is to figure out what went wrong and fix it for the next time.”
Hesitantly, he handed over the bag. I stepped out from behind the counter, walked over to one of the tables, and sat down. Beau sat across from me, his tentative stare on me the entire time.
Opening the bag, I pulled out the cookies and placed them on a napkin. “Are these all from the same batch?”
He pointed at them. “No. These two are from the first batch, and these are from the second. I knew the first ones weren’t going to be good when half of them were darker than the others. Clearly, I did something wrong.”
“And what do you think is the problem with the second batch?”
“Nothing, if you down a gallon of milk at the same time you’re eating them.”
“Dry?” I asked.
“Yep. And really… I don’t know, I guess, tough?”
I picked up a cookie from the first batch and tasted it.
The flavor wasn’t bad, but there was clearly an issue with the baking time or temperature.
“These aren’t awful, Beau. Given that you said they were unevenly browned, my guess is that you didn’t portion them equally.
If they’re too big, they’ll need more baking time, and if they’re on the smaller side, they’ll need less time.
I recommend using a cookie scoop. It’ll be precisely what you need to make sure you measure out the same amount every time. I use one, too.”
Beau nodded his understanding. “A cookie scoop?”
“Yep. That’s all it should take.” I held the cookie up between us. “This was a valiant first attempt at real homemade cookies.”
Beau blushed, and my heart skipped a beat. How could one small compliment like that make him blush?
Not wanting to put him on the spot when it was clear he was already struggling, I moved to pick up a cookie from his second batch. I bit into it, chewed once, and stopped. The last thing I wanted to do was make him feel bad, but these were awful.
“I warned you they were terrible.”
I was trying to find some saliva to be able to finish the bite I’d taken. Chewing slowly, I made a sound of protest and shook my head. Unfortunately, my mouth was too full and dry to speak.
And Beau knew I was struggling. He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked while he waited for me to figure out how to put a positive spin on this.
I set the cookie down, struggled through that bite, and licked my lips several times.
“Right. Well, your first attempt was spectacular,” I told him.
Beau’s lips twitched. “The second one feels like a combination of things went wrong, and it all pertains to the flour. Did you measure out the amount exactly as I gave it to you?”
He sat forward, uncrossed his arms, and rested them on the table. “I did. But then I hit the measuring cup on the edge of the bowl, and some of the flour made it onto the floor instead of the bowl. So, I eyeballed the amount I thought landed on the floor and added that into the bowl.”
Well, now it made sense.
“You added too much.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “Yeah. And then you mixed it too much.”
His brows pulled together. “You can tell all of that from taking one bite?”
Tipping my head to one side, I offered another smile. “Years of taste testing and working with baked goods makes that possible.”
Beau studied me for a few beats, questions lingering in his gaze. He only asked one. “How do I know when to stop mixing?”
“You only want to mix the dough until you don’t see any additional streaks of flour left,” I explained.
“Anything beyond that is going to result in tough cookies. In fact, I like to mix to the point there’s just a few streaks of flour left whenever I’m making a cookie that has an additional ingredient like chocolate chips, because as I mix those in at the end, the remaining flour will get incorporated then. ”
“That makes sense.”
“Ah, it’s one of those things you learn the more you do it.”
“Only, now I’m terrified to try a third time.”
Laughter spilled out of me. “Well, you know what they say. Third time’s the charm. Anyway, if you’re really nervous about it, you could call me, and I’ll walk you through it.”
Surprise littered his features as he blinked and sat back in his seat. “Really? You’d be okay with that?”
Now, it was my turn to hesitate. I hadn’t planned on making the offer. I didn’t even realize I was doing it until after I’d done it. But now that I had, I couldn’t exactly deny him without looking like a complete jerk. So, I gave him a nod and spoke softly. “Yeah, Beau. I’d be okay with that.”
For long moments, he stared at me, and there was no question about what I saw in his gaze this time. It was regret, and the awkward silence that took hold was close to unbearable.
He licked his lips and said, “It’s really good to see you, Jules.”
I looked away, attempting to swallow past the tightness in my throat. It still felt like I had a boulder lodged there when I returned my attention to him and said, “You, too.”
Whether he recognized that things were about to get very uncomfortable, or he was already experiencing it himself, I didn’t know. But Beau stood and said, “I should get going. I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I just thought I’d stop by to see you and get your opinion on the cookies.”
I rose from my seat and fought the urge to wrap my arms around him. “Let me grab you some cookies to take with you.”
Without waiting for a response, I darted behind the counter, grabbed a container, and loaded him up with cookies while I willed my heart to stop racing.
After dropping the box into a bag, I looked at him and held it out. “On the house.”
“Jules, no. Let me—”
“I insist.”
He took the cookies from me with a smile of appreciation. “Thank you. For these and for the time.”
“Thank you for coming to see me.”
“It was my pleasure, Jules. You have no idea.”
Before I could respond, he turned and walked away. And I was left wondering what those four words meant.