Chapter 12 John #2
Sam listens a little longer, and then uncaps the pen and tries to scribble down a few more words. But the pen proves to be dry once again. ‘What the—? Why does this keep happening?’
‘What’s the matter, Sam?’ Mia asks, too sweetly. Her eyes are sparkling with mischief.
‘My pens are still drying up overnight.’ Sam pitches the pen into the bin, shaking his head.
‘These gingerbread men just need a couple more minutes to cool, and then I’m going to ice them. Anyone want to help?’
‘Do we get to eat some if we do?’ Charlie asks, fingers creeping towards the nearest cooling rack. Mia swats him away.
‘Yes. Lucky for you, I pay in biscuits.’
‘Perfect.’ Charlie dons an apron as well, and then glances up at the clock over the sink. ‘Oh, bother! I’ve completely lost track of time. Molly’s train is getting in right now!’
‘Wait, for real?’ Mia blinks in surprise. ‘She’s actually coming?’
‘Of course she’s coming! I told you she was.
Man, I can’t be late. I gotta go.’ Charlie yanks the apron back off and balls it up, chucking it at Sam.
‘Sam, I nominate you as Mia’s assistant.
Mia, make sure you keep a few biscuits for me.
They’ll be my referral fee for finding you such a competent assistant.
’ And with that, he rushes out the door, muttering about how long it will take him to make it down to the train station in Worcester.
‘Guess it’s just the two of us, then,’ Sam says apologetically. ‘I am happy to help, though. If you’ll have me.’
‘Beggars can’t be choosers,’ Mia quips. But then she gives Sam a sincere smile. ‘I’d love the help. I always start out so gung ho when baking these. And then peter out after the first dozen or two.’
Sam and Mia are going to ice gingerbread men together?
Oh, this he can work with. John waits patiently as Mia starts gathering up her ingredients, looking for an opportunity.
When her back is turned, he scoops up the icing sugar from the counter and places it high on the top shelf over the stove, where he’s sure Mia can’t reach it.
‘OK, so we’ve got the cream of tartar. Oh, and I wanted to add a little almond flavouring. Could you beat the egg whites for me, please?’
‘Sure thing,’ Sam responds. ‘You know, I was thinking, we should probably have one of the biscuits before they’re iced. Then after we’re finished, we can have another. For comparison’s sake.’
Mia snickers, and then forces a serious look on her face. ‘I think you’re right. How else will we know which delivery method is preferred?’
‘Exactly.’ Sam holds out two biscuits, carefully arranged on his outstretched palm. ‘You choose first.’
Mia peruses them carefully. ‘Hmm. I think I’ll take the angel.’
‘Fitting. I’ll take the snowman.’
For a moment, the only sound is the biscuits crunching as they chew. Sam sighs in satisfaction. ‘I don’t know, Mia. That’s going to be hard to top. Those are already delicious.’
‘Thanks.’ Mia gives him a sincere smile.
She glances around. ‘Oh, now where is the icing sugar?’ She opens and closes a few cabinets, moving items around as she searches.
Finally, she spies it in the upper cabinet and sighs.
‘Really, Mum? That can’t be the most logical place for it.
’ After locating a disappointingly small step stool, she stretches up on tiptoe, just grazing the edge of the bag with her fingertips.
‘Oh, come on,’ Mia grumbles. ‘What I wouldn’t give for another inch or two.
’ She continues to grope around, trying to catch the edge of the bag in her fingers.
Her shirt rides up as she stretches, exposing a few inches of creamy skin.
After a few failed tries, she gives a frustrated little hop, pushing off the edge of the still warm oven.
‘Ah! Hot!’ Mia wobbles precariously, and Sam launches himself towards her, gripping her by the waist.
‘Easy there,’ he soothes as he steadies her back on the stool.
Mia goes very still at his touch and doesn’t immediately pull away.
Sam’s fingers skim the strip of skin that was exposed as she stretched.
Once she’s no longer wobbling, Mia turns around.
Sam’s hands are still at her waist, his thumbs brushing unconsciously along her skin.
‘Thanks.’ Her voice is subdued. They stay like this for a long moment, bodies nearly pressed together, the heat of the oven at Mia’s back and the scent of cinnamon lacing through the air. ‘I, ah, like your cologne.’
Sam’s smile goes all the way to his eyes. ‘Thanks.’
Neither one of them seems in a hurry to move away.
Mia licks her lips nervously, drawing Sam’s attention directly there.
His smile turns slightly crooked, and moving slowly, he reaches up to brush a few stray crumbs from the corner of Mia’s lips.
His fingers linger just a few seconds longer than needed for the task.
Mia’s eyes widen, and Sam drops his hand, stepping back awkwardly. ‘Sorry. You had – there were some crumbs still there.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘Here, let me get that down for you.’
Mia doesn’t move, so after a moment, Sam reaches around her head, snagging the bag of icing sugar and lowering it to the counter beside them. Mia watches him the whole time, and it’s not until the bag is down and Sam steps back that she seems to shake herself.
‘Well. OK then. Thanks for grabbing that.’
‘No problem,’ Sam says.
Mia’s cheeks are flushed, and John could have sworn her pulse is hammering away in her throat. He silently congratulates himself for his foresight in removing the taller stool from the room earlier.
Maybe this will be easier than he expected.