Chapter 5
The ride down Red Arrow this morning had been cold and dark.
But remembering Stanley’s expression when he chowed down on the cookies last night made Ryan smile.
Once inside the warm back room, Ryan tied on an apron and got to work.
Sarah wouldn’t be here for three hours and he wanted to surprise her.
Pulling her pastry dough from the refrigerator, he set it next to the bread dough.
He was trying. Really trying.
I’m helping you out this Christmas, Jamie.
Helping Sarah out. Maybe Stanley was right.
Maybe all his time at The Full Cup was more than work.
On the way down he wasn’t thinking about cookies or bread.
No, Sarah’s sweet smile was on his mind.
The way her hair fell to her shoulders in soft curls when she took off the hair net.
The feathered eyebrows that he wanted to trace with his fingers.
This was crazy. Back to work.
He needed caffeine bad. The front room was cool and dark until he flipped on the lights.
In no time he had the coffee perking out front.
Studying the family-size pot, Ryan had some ideas about the whole coffee issue––if he ever had the nerve to talk about them with Sarah.
After all, her dad had named the place The Full Cup, but they didn’t sell that much coffee.
The coffee could be a money maker, but Sarah and her mom hardly ever pushed the flavored espresso.
Back at the butcher block table, Ryan smiled as he worked, imagining what Stanley would say if he could see him.
This place was such a switch from Branson Motors, where the smell of oil hung heavy and the clang and grind of tools made your ears ring.
The other guys told jokes he could never repeat, not here anyway.
If he were truthful, Ryan liked this back room a lot better.
Quiet surrounded him. No movement yet in the apartment upstairs. Sarah would be here after she took Nathan to school and Justin to the playschool she’d started. He missed her on the day she didn’t come in because she had the kids at her place.
He missed her? His hands stopped the rhythmic pulling of the dough.
Really? Ryan didn’t want to think about it.
And he didn’t have time. The clock reminded him he had a schedule. He set the dough to rise and got on with it.
Grabbing the blue binder from the shelf, he leafed through it.
Clippings and scrawled recipes fell to the floor.
He scooped them up. Some were probably written by Sarah’s father.
Others were in Jamie’s handwriting, including one for beer and raisin muffins.
Future was scrawled across the top. But Jamie hadn’t been granted that future. Ryan tucked it back inside.
Finally he found the brownies. Sarah probably had this one in her head, but he knew zip about baking.
Scanning the ingredients, he figured he could handle it.
Chopping nuts? No way would he cut corners by dumping the bag of walnuts into Sarah’s blender.
No sir. She liked her walnuts in chunks “so people can taste their goodness.” He had no idea what she was talking about but he grabbed the knife.
Before long he had two pans of brownies in one oven and was shaping bread dough for the other.
Multitasking like crazy, he hardly noticed when the darkness outside turned to the cold gray of dawn.
The door opened and Sarah whirled through. “My oh my,” she said with a smile. “Do I smell chocolate?” She unwound the scarf and hung up her coat. “What have you been up to?”
That had to be the first time someone had asked that without expecting an apology. “Thought I’d get things going.”
Her eyes traveled to the cooling racks. “Will you look at this? You’ve already finished the brownies.” Now, some women at the Rusty Nail put a lot of goop on their eyes. A lot of guys went for that. Not him. He’d take Sarah’s sparkling eyes without any makeup any day.
She turned to another tray. “And are these the Mexican hot chocolate cookies?” You’d think she’d just discovered gold.
Suddenly bashful, he tucked his hands in his jean pockets. “Yeah. Thought I’d try them last night. Seemed to turn out okay. Stanley thought they were great.”
“And you used the stamp on the top?” Pulling out a tray, she studied each detail.
Now wasn’t the time to mention it had taken him four tries to get that darn bell design right on the top. “Yep. Don’t worry. I washed it and put it back in your drawer.”
“Oh, Ryan, you’re the greatest.” Sarah’s arms came around him from the back and squeezed.
Soaking in the warmth of her body, he didn’t move.
He had to remind himself that this was his sister-in-law.
Sweet Sarah. The woman who’d never wanted anything to do with him.
But his body hadn’t gotten the message. When she laid her head against his back, he could almost feel his bones melt.
Taking his hands from his pockets, he didn’t know what to do. So he patted the hands locked around him. Ryan’s heart was thumping like the kettle drum in the Fourth of July Parade. “You’re welcome.”
Suddenly her hold sprang loose.
Ryan turned. Sarah came up to his chin, but she wasn’t looking up. Her arms were locked across her chest, knuckles white from the pressure. He wished she’d say something. Maybe she could sense the thoughts galloping through his head. “Sarah?”
“Sorry,” she whispered, eyelashes feathered on her cheeks.
He lifted her chin. “About what?”
“I shouldn't have done that. It was silly.”
Disappointment deflated him. “No it wasn’t. It showed that you appreciate me, I guess.”
“Oh, I do.” She lifted troubled eyes. “I really do.”
“Then what’s wrong? Did I goof up somewhere?” That was the story of his life.
The timer sounded. Reluctantly, he limped off to sweep the loaves of bread from the oven. As usual, his hip ached from all the walking back and forth. At the garage, he stayed in one place as much as possible.
No matter how busy he got, today he was traveling to St. Joe to visit the shoemaker Stanley had mentioned.
A door closed upstairs and Lila came down the steps, yawning. It would take a while for him to get used to that blonde hair, not that she’d didn’t look pretty with it. “How was book club, Sarah?” she asked.
“Oh, fine.” Sarah was cutting the brownies into neat squares, but her knife seemed to wiggle a bit.
“Tell me again, which book did you read?” Lila tied an apron around her.
Even though Ryan was busy sliding the hot trays onto the cooling racks, he didn’t miss the blush in Sarah’s cheeks.
“The truth is, we didn’t really get around to the books.” Sarah’s voice trailed off.
“That’s too bad.” Lila leaned over the brownies and sniffed. “My, these smell wonderful.”
Okay, Ryan was curious. “If your book group didn’t talk about books, what did they talk about?”
“Just stuff.” Finished cutting her squares, Sarah studied them.
Lila’s eyes darted between Sarah and Ryan. “Ohhhh.”
Oh, what? Women were a mystery. He shoved a sheet of sour dough bread into the oven.
“So what are you two up to today?” Lila’s eyes sparkled. “I mean, anything new on your baking schedule, Sarah?”
“Lemon bars. Kate brought some last night.” Turning to the blue binder he’d left open, she paged through. “Here we go. Lemon bars.” She smoothed a hand over the page. How did such delicate hands get so much work done?
“I’ll just leave you to it,” her mother said, disappearing through the swinging doors.
“Any eggs that have to be separated today?” he asked, hoping to heck she said no.
“No eggs to separate, just lemons to peel. I picked up a bag full from Nacho’s vegetable market yesterday but I left them in the car.” Sarah’s eyes darted to the door. “Hope they’re not frozen stiff.”
“I’ll get them.” Ryan needed some air. Not bothering with a jacket, he rushed out to her car. The sharp cold air reminded him of February when the boys dared each other to hop in the lake to prove how strong they were. They’d been idiots back then.
Slipping on the hard-packed snow, he opened her car, grabbed the bag of lemons and dashed back inside.
“Thank you, Ryan.” Slitting the bag open with her knife, Sarah squeezed one. “Nah. They seem fine.”
Now, how did she know that? The woman was just plain amazing.
While she got busy measuring out the flour and sugar, Ryan took the hot chocolate cookies out to Lila, who fussed over them.
He felt pretty pleased about that. Then he hustled back to watch Sarah work.
Sometimes she’d talk to herself, saying stuff like, “Just a little bit” or “even it off perfectly.” She’d get this cute little frown between her eyes.
“What can I do to help?” After all they weren’t paying him to stand here like a goof staring at Sarah.
Opening one of the wide drawers below the counter, Sarah whisked out a metal thing that looked dangerous. “Now with grating, we’re just whisking off peels. Not too hard. Just lightly take off the thick yellow skin.”
He leaned in, the lemon tickling his nose. “Smells good.”
She smiled. “Kind of gets to you, doesn't it?”
“Yep, you do.” What had he just said? “I mean it does.”
But Sarah hadn’t heard him. She was laying into those lemons when all of a sudden she yelped. The grater clattered to the chopping board. “Oh, I am such an idiot.” She peered down at her bleeding knuckles.
He grabbed her hand. Blood was seeping through tiny nicks in her delicate skin and he felt nauseous. “You’re not an idiot but we need some bandages.”
“In the medicine chest above the sink. What would the health department think if they ever saw me, bleeding into my cookies?” she joked in a wobbly voice.
“They’d probably ask for one.” Ryan was off to the bathroom.
Only took him a second to find the box. The only bandages he saw were from the Avenger movies.
Sarah must use these for the boys. Grabbing the box, he headed back, painfully aware of how his uneven walk must look as he covered that open stretch of floor.