Chapter 10 #2
His mouth opened as his eyes darted from them to me. “I…didn’t know it was part of the dessert. It was just…out on the counter.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “What happened to it?”
His shoulders lifted. “I like some sweet with my steak. To balance it out.”
I stared at him. “You used almost an entire bottle of maple glaze on eight ounces of filet mignon?”
“No,” he hurried to say.
I looked at him, waiting for him to expound.
“I like it on mashed potatoes too,” he elaborated. “What?! I’m a salty-sweet guy.”
I could hear my pulse. Or maybe it was Mrs. Keller’s disappointment pounding in my ears. It sounded a lot like my future at the bakery fluttering away on the breeze.
“Can we make more?” Zoey asked.
“No,” I said.
Technically, we could. Maple glaze didn’t take long, but it required a few ingredients. Maple, for instance.
I pulled out my phone and tapped the call button for Maple Farm. I drummed my fingers on the counter nervously as it rang.
“My bad,” Ethan said. He really did sound apologetic, for what it was worth.
“Sadie?” James’s voice came through.
“James! Thank heaven you answered!”
“Are you okay?” His voice was tight. Urgent.
“Yes. I mean, no. But yes. I’m at the mayor’s birthday party, and we’ve had”—my gaze flicked to Ethan—“an incident. Is there any way you could bring a couple of jars of maple syrup and some butter to Town Hall?”
One bottle was plenty, but with Ethan hanging around, I wasn’t about to take any chances.
It was quiet.
“James?”
“Yeah, I’m here. Um…”
Then it hit me. James had taken pains to ensure no one in Autumn Ridge knew he was home. Coming to a building where most of the town was hanging around was unlikely to be an appetizing prospect.
“You can just pull into the parking lot, and I’ll grab it from you,” I said.
“You can even wear a ski mask if you want. It’ll be like a drug drop.
” My eyes flicked to the teenagers, all of whom were watching me like they might need to interrupt Officer Roy’s dinner—or get in on the illicit action themselves.
“My specialty,” James said.
I turned my face from my audience and smiled. There was something special about being witness to a playful moment with James Carver.
“I’ll be there in five,” he said.
“Meet me at the drop point.”
I heard a light chuckle before the line clicked off.
“Who was that?” Ethan asked.
“The person saving our behinds,” I said. “We’re going to need a pot on the stove. Medium-low heat. Time will be…tight.”
We plated the rest of the cheesecake while Zoey got a pot on the stove. The dinner catering team was running in and out of the room, making the kitchen a place of pure chaos. Mrs. Keller would have fainted to see the mess.
When things were well in hand, I slipped out through the side door to the parking lot just as a pair of headlights flashed and the Carvers’ truck pulled in.
I let out a rushing breath of relief.
The truck pulled into one of two free parking places, and I shuffled over in my heels as quickly as my dress-bound legs would allow.
The door opened, and James got out, wearing jeans and a Carhartt jacket.
“You don’t need to get out,” I said.
His head whipped toward me in surprise, like he hadn’t realized I was there.
I put my hands up. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
He didn’t respond. His gaze was fixed on me. It dropped to my dress.
I looked down and let out a laugh. “Have I transported you to the ‘90s? I didn’t have time to get a dress, so this is my mom’s.” When I looked up again, James’s eyes weren’t on my dress. They were on my face.
For a split second, I forgot about the maple glaze and the potential career catastrophe I was trying to prevent. I just looked at James looking at me.
“You look…” The sentence remained unfinished.
“You need help?”
I turned as Ethan walked up slowly, his eyes shifting between James and me.
“No,” I said quickly. I hadn’t meant for anyone to come out. For James’s sake. And definitely not right when James was about to say how I looked.
Realizing how rudely the word had come out and how much I wanted Ethan gone, I tried again. “I mean…sure. You can take in the butter and help Zoey get it melting. Slowly. Low heat.” The last thing we needed was scorched butter.
James opened the door to the cab of his truck and pulled out a carton of butter cubes. He handed them to me, and I passed them on to Ethan like we were a mini assembly line.
Ethan’s eyes flicked once more between James and me, his mouth lifting slightly at one edge. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He winked, then left.
Cheeks warm, I turned back to James, and he pulled out a bag—the same burlap one May had sent me home with. It looked heavy. It definitely had more than two syrup bottles in it.
“I wasn’t sure what kind you’d want,” he said.
Because I hadn’t told him. I’d been too distracted by the situation to even think about it.
“You’re a saint,” I said, taking the heavy bag from him. “I owe you so majorly.”
He shook his head.
“James,” I said, reasoning with him.
“Sadie”—he echoed my tone—“you’re doing plenty for me already.”
“Maple pickle cookies?”
He chuckled. It was a deep, resonant sound, and over too soon. “That bag’s really heavy. I can take it inside.” His focus flicked to my hair—something I’d entirely forgotten about for the past hour. He reached toward me, making my breath catch. “You’ve got a…pin.”
My hand instinctively stole to it, tangling with his as my fingers found the dangling bobby pin that had somehow escaped. It wasn’t a surprise, really. With seven hundred of them, at least one was bound to betray me.
“Get away from my sister, Carver!”
We both whirled around and found Ryan stalking towards us, his face dark.