Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
B laise woke early, did some calisthenics, took Beau for a walk, during which they caught the sunrise, then it was back to the house for a shower, and breakfast for both of them.
She let her hair air-dry, which gave it some natural waves, and put on a touch of makeup.
Nothing that would melt in the heat of the kitchen.
Brick was teaching her to make his wife’s famous coconut cake today.
What did one wear to a baking lesson? Casual clothing, for sure. And nothing that couldn’t be replaced in case of a stain, although what sort of stain would baking cause? Cakes were flour and sugar and eggs. It wasn’t like they were using red wine or tomato sauce.
Even so, she went with cuffed capri jeans, a pastel-striped T-shirt, and sneakers. That was cute and easy and didn’t look remotely like she was trying too hard. Which she wasn’t, at least not with her outfits.
Trying to win Brick over and get him out from behind the walls he had up? That was another story altogether. Part of her plan included making sure Brick had plenty of Beau time. Today she was going to make sure that Beau looked extra cute.
Under her bed, she had several slim storage containers on wheels so that they pulled out like a drawer. She rolled out the one that held Beau’s stuff. She selected his Fourth of July bandana, which was a Stars and Stripes motif.
Brick ought to like that. She gave Beau a quick brushing, then tied the bandana on over his collar. “You look very handsome.”
She checked her phone for the list of things Brick had said she’d need if she was going to make her own cake. Some of the items, like the measuring cups and spoons, she’d had. The rest she’d picked up in a late-night run to the store after getting home from trivia with the girls last night.
What fun that had been. She really hoped they did that again. She packed all her baking supplies into two reusable shopping totes, double-checked she had everything, then decided she was ready.
“Beau, time to go.”
She stuck her phone in her back pocket and, after locking the door, attached the small carabiner on her key ring to one of her belt loops. Beau scampered into the backyard ahead of her like he knew where they were going and was excited about it.
Maybe he did. He went straight to the gate.
“You want to see Brick?”
Beau’s tail wagged. She opened the gate and he ran into Brick’s yard, then right to the door of his porch and gave a little woof.
Blaise shook her head. Beau really liked Brick. She didn’t blame her little dog. The man was very sweet to him.
Brick had either been waiting on them or had heard Beau bark. He came onto the porch and opened the door.
Beau went right in like he owned the place.
Blaise took things a little more slowly. “Morning, Brick.”
“Morning.”
The aroma of coffee drifted out. “I brought all of the stuff on the list. Are you ready for us?”
“Yep.” He nodded. “Coffee?”
“That would be great.”
“Come on.” He tipped his head toward the house.
She came inside. The place was as neat and tidy as she’d expected it would be. Not much in the way of soft touches or personalization, but there was an electric fireplace in the living room. There were three framed photos on the mantel. Looked like Brick’s late wife and his two sons.
Above the pictures was a modest television.
The living room had a blue leather recliner, undoubtedly his chair.
Next to it was a side table with a book and a lamp.
Cattycorner to that was a blue and tan plaid loveseat.
The kitchen was white cabinets and tan speckled granite.
A blue checked towel was folded over the cabinet under the sink. Everything was simple and clean.
Ingredients were laid out on the counter, ready to go.
“I’m really looking forward to this,” she said. “I’m not much of a cook, but as you know, I can make brownies, so this shouldn’t be too much harder.”
“Shouldn’t be,” he repeated, but the way he said it made her think he was skeptical.
He got a mug down for her and poured her a cup of coffee from the pot that was already half empty.
“Got milk and sugar.”
“Thanks. Black is fine.” She knew he wouldn’t have her usual sugar substitute and in her estimation, milk was pointless in coffee. She took a sip. It was strong, also not a surprise. “All right if I unpack my stuff?”
“Yup.”
She got that done, laying things out the same way he had and in the same order so she’d be ready to go.
Ingredients on one side, measuring cups and spoons on the other, along with the two round baking pans, a spatula and a sturdy wooden spoon that had once belonged to her grandmother.
Her mixing bowl was in the middle. She took another sip of coffee. “Ready. What’s first?”
Brick was setting the oven temperature. Beau sat at her feet, watching like a small, adorable judge. No doubt hoping earnestly that something yummy would make its way to the floor.
Brick came back to the counter. “Pans first. Butter and flour.”
She watched him use his fingers to coat his first pan with a pat of butter.
He wiped what was left into the second pan and did it again, then wiped his hands on a paper towel and added a spoonful of flour to each pan.
He shook the flour around like he was panning for gold.
When he was done, both pans were evenly coated.
She copied him, showing him the pans when she was done.
“Good.”
She smiled as she got his approval. “Next?”
Brick put two sticks of butter in front of her. “Butter. Room temp. Yours isn’t.”
“No, it is not.” She’d give him two sticks of what she’d brought, so they were even. “We just used butter so these sticks go in the bowl, right?”
“Mm-hmm.”
She’d figured as much but he was making her nervous. She unwrapped them, plopped them into the bowl, and then looked around for the garbage. She found it. A white plastic bin with a lever to step on and open the top. She dropped the wrappers in. “What’s next?”
“Sugar,” Brick said, opening the canister on his side of the counter. “One-and-three-quarter cups.”
She measured in her sugar.
“Now cream together.” He moved his bowl to the stand mixer.
She had a spoon. When she picked it up, he grunted. She looked at him. “Not with a spoon?”
He patted the top of the machine. “Mixer’s better.”
She put the spoon down. “As you can see, I don’t have one.”
“Use this one.” He gave her a look, that semi-patient one she was learning meant obviously .
They got the butter and sugar creamed together until it was, as Brick succinctly put it, “Fluffy.” They’d also added the eggs, a dash of coconut extract, and a cup of coconut milk, leaving them with a pale-yellow mixture that looked way too runny to turn into cake.
“Now flour,” he said. “Two cups.”
That made sense. She knew there had to be more to it. “Exactly two cups? Just making sure.”
He nodded.
“Right. Two cups. Easy enough.” She opened her small bag of flour, and dipped in the measuring cup, spilling a little on the counter. “Oops. A domestic goddess I am not.”
Brick grunted. It might have been a laugh. Hard to tell.
She sprinkled the second cup over her batter. “Okay, what next?”
That turned out to be baking powder. After that was added she looked at him again.
He answered her unasked question. “Now the spoon. Gently.”
“Gently what?” She knew he meant stir, but it was high time the man learned she was not a mind reader. Words were free. He could use more.
“Stir the flour into the batter. Gently.”
“Right, got it.” She did exactly that, noticing how the flour wanted to puff up in little clouds if she was too vigorous. She watched him. He was doing more of a folding motion. She tried that and found it worked better. “Don’t we need salt?”
He shook his head. “It’s in the butter.”
“So salted butter saves a step?”
“Yup.”
“You should write a cookbook,” she teased. “ Brick’s Bare Minimum Recipes. ”
That earned her another look and another grunt, but this time she was sure she heard amusement in his tone.
Beau barked once, sharp and insistent, as if agreeing with Blaise. She bent to scratch his head. “You think it’s a good idea, too, don’t you, handsome?”
Brick moved closer to check how she was doing.
His arm brushed hers, warm and strong, and Blaise felt her breath hitch in a way she didn’t want to think about too closely.
She covered by rambling. “How’s it look?
You think it’s all right? Smells kind of coconutty, but since I’ve never made this before?—”
Brick stuck the tip of his finger in the mix and tasted it. He nodded. “Tastes right.”
“That’s good.” She exhaled as he went back to his bowl. “Now what?”
“In the pans.”
They carefully poured their batter in the prepared pans. She did her best to keep the amounts even but Brick seemed to manage it effortlessly. How many times had he made this cake? Once that was done, they put them in the oven. His on the top shelf, hers on the bottom.
She stared in at them after he shut the door. “Now we wait, I guess.”
“Now we make frosting.”
“Oh, right.”
His brows rose as he looked at her side of the counter. “And clean up.”
They did a little of that before they made the frosting, which was more butter, cream cheese, powdered sugar, another dash of extract, and lots of coconut. With that finished, they cleaned up the mess that remained.
He put the ingredients away as she washed and dried the last of her things. “Thanks for your patience.” She shot him a look. “You know, you’re actually a decent teacher, Brick. Longer, more descriptive sentences wouldn’t hurt, but otherwise, decent.”
He started to answer, then stopped, glancing toward the oven where the scent of sugar and coconut was beginning to bloom. Finally, he said quietly, “Patty’s recipe deserves to be shared.”
Something in his tone softened her heart. “I bet your wife would be proud you’re sharing it.”
He didn’t answer, just checked the timer, then looked at her again, that unreadable expression flickering to something softer.
“Cake’ll be ready in thirty,” he said. “More coffee?”
She smiled. “I’d love some.”
Beau gave a tiny bark, as if he’d have a cup, too, and for the first time that afternoon, Brick laughed out loud, a low, rough sound that was the most genuine thing she’d ever heard.
It made her see him in a different light. As more than the gruff Marine who kept watch on his porch so often.
He was a man with a heart. He’d loved deeply. And now it was clear that no matter how much time had passed, he still loved that same woman. His loyalty was undeniably attractive. Blaise was starting to like him more than she’d expected.
Her Jay had been that same kind of loyal. It touched her and made her sympathetic to Brick in a way he probably wouldn’t welcome.
Unless he was already starting to feel the same things.