Chapter 5 #2
“Acutally. I bet Hayes could show you how to make more cookie dough. I can freeze it and it’ll save some time when I’m ready to work on those cookies for the town bonfire.”
Gideon perks up like someone handed him a dog leash or asked about his favorite tackle. “Cookie dough? I can handle cookie dough.”
Evie snorts. “You can barely handle boiling water without supervision.”
“That was one time,” he mutters.
“Wait,” I give Evie that same questioning glance she’s mastered. “How would you know?”
She waves her hand in the air. “Irrelevant.”
Hayes chuckles.
“Mmhm. I’m on to you Evie Lynn.”
Hayes steps forward with confidence. “It’s not hard. I’ll walk you through it.”
Evie glances sharply between the three of us—me, Hayes, Gideon—like she’s watching pieces slide into a pattern she doesn’t quite understand yet. Her gaze lingers on me the longest. Suspicious. Curious. Maybe a little too knowing.
I ignore her.
Mostly.
Gideon claps his hands. “Coach me, man. I’ll be the best cookie assistant you’ve ever had.”
Hayes nods once. “Let’s do it.”
Hayes’s eyes flick to mine for just a split second—just long enough to silently say you’re okay, breathe—before he gestures Gideon toward the counter. Evie hops up onto a stool like she has front-row seats to her favorite soap opera.
I can feel her staring holes through my soul.
“So,” she says, voice low and pointed, “anything you want to tell me?”
“Nope.” I bustle around with a speed that should qualify as suspicious all on its own.
“Uh-huh.” Her heels swing off the edge of the stool. “Because when I walked in, the tension was so thick I could spread it on toast.”
I freeze, tray halfway to the fridge.
She wiggles her eyebrows.
“Evie.” I press a hand to my forehead. “Please, for the love of all things holly and jolly…behave.”
“I am behaving. Badly, but still.” She grins.
“You’re supposed to be washing cookie trays.”
“Later,” she shrugs.
On the other side of the kitchen, Hayes and Gideon are halfway through the recipe.
Gideon is reading the ingredient list like it’s a foreign language. Hayes keeps shifting the bowl closer to him, correcting his measurements, brushing past him to reach what he needs.
He fits here in my borrowed kitchen way too easily.
And that…does things to me.
“Emmy?” Evie sing-songs. “You’re staring.”
“I’m supervising.”
“You’re ogling.”
“Evie.”
She laughs, tosses her hair over her shoulder, and slides off the stool. “I guess we can stick around and help you finish up whatever’s left.”
I blink at her. “You’re… sure?”
“Absolutely. Someone’s got to supervise Gideon anyway.” She shoots him a pointed look.
Hayes smirks over the counter at me.
And just like that, chaos transforms into efficiency.
Evie sorts trays, labels dough balls, and whisks with a speed that makes me both envious and grateful.
Gideon measures ingredients like he’s defusing a bomb, and somehow Hayes makes it all look effortless—moving between mixing bowls and counters, rolling dough, sprinkling chocolate chips with that same patient, careful touch that always makes me forget how close he is.
He leans in once to show Gideon how to gently fold in the butter without overmixing. Our shoulders brush. I catch a whiff of his cologne mixed with the faint scent of maple from the cookies he baked earlier. My chest tightens. I can’t look away.
Evie nudges me mid-whisk. “Don’t just stand there, Em! Chop, stir, organize…whatever! Be useful.”
I bite back a laugh, dipping into the rhythm.
The four of us move like a well-oiled, slightly chaotic machine.
Counters cleared, trays lined, dough balls rolled, cookies baked, cooled, and boxed.
Every so often, Hayes slides a tray toward me with a look that says, taste this.
Every time I do, the maple flavor hits, and memories of Pappy’s kitchen flood back, soft and warm.
Somehow, between laughter, minor flour explosions, and Gideon nearly dumping sugar all over the floor, we manage to “magically” get everything done. I lean back against the counter, exhausted but satisfied, and watch Hayes wipe his hands on a dish towel.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, like he’s checking in more for my emotional state than anything else.
I nod, smiling. “I’m… perfect.”
Evie folds her arms, grinning, clearly proud of our teamwork. “Well, I declare that a success. Dockside saved by cookies, chaos, and Hayes Thatcher.”
I glance at him, heart squeezing. “Don’t let her go to your head,” I murmur.
He just smiles, unspoken words lingering in his eyes, and leans back against the counter.
For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m juggling life alone. Not with my sister, not with Hayes, not with even Gideon—somehow, all four of us are exactly where we’re supposed to be. Even if little Miss Evie is in denial.
Right there in that warm, flour-dusted kitchen, I realize it’s not just the cookies that are sweet—it’s the people around me.
“I guess now is as good a time as any to let you both know that the inspector will be by tomorrow. Sometime between eight and noon.” Hayes smiles at me. “Then you two will officially be back in business.”
“You’re too good to us, Hayes.” Evie pats his cheek then brushes off her clothes one more time before pulling on her coat.
“And with that, I think Gideon and I are going to get out of here. Em, I’ll go to the cafe tomorrow and wait for the inspector.
You do what you need to do here. Once we’ve got the green light, I’ll head over and help you move all this stuff back to Dockside. ”
“Thanks, Eve.”
“Yeah, yeah. Best sister ever. I know.” She hugs me and whispers in my ear, “We will totally be talking about all the heat in this kitchen when you get home.” Then adds, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Don’t stay out too late.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Oh, honey. It’s Mom’s wrath you should be worried about.” She laughs.
Gideon and Hayes shake hands and just like that, they leave me and Hayes alone once more.