Chapter Thirteen
“Now what?” Major asked, and I motioned at the hazelnut spread. “Now, squirt some of the spread on the tortilla.”
He lifted the piping bag and made a splurt on the turkey cutout. “Do I need to spread it out?”
“Nope, grab another one and lay it over the spread, then push down gently. The heat from the oven will melt it and do the job for you. Make sure to brush them with butter so the cinnamon and sugar will stick.”
He followed my directions to the letter while I cut out a few more pilgrim hats, then filled and topped mine on the pan.
We’d been making Thanksgiving tortilla cookies for the last few hours, but these would be the final two pans, and then we could fill the case and head home.
When I told him I was headed to the bakery to make cookies, he insisted on coming along, saying I couldn’t do it one-handed.
He was wrong; I could have, but it was easier having him here.
Especially since the pans were heavy to take in and out of the oven with one hand.
“Done?” he asked, and I nodded, so he lifted my pan and slid it into the oven next to his before he closed the door. “I didn’t know how much fun making cookies could be,” he said as he waited for the timer to go off. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“You’re welcome, though you kind of invited yourself,” I said with a chuckle as I cleaned up the supplies, leaving only the cinnamon and sugar out for the last batch.
“I did, didn’t I?” The question was asked with a little clap that had me laughing.
It had been two weeks since my surgery, and he’d stuck close to my side the entire time.
He’d been correct when he said the pain would improve quickly, and by the middle of the first week, I was able to take nothing but Tylenol and Advil to get me through the day.
While he was at work, I napped and worked on my book orders, never more grateful that I’d broken my left arm; otherwise, there would be some disappointed kids this Christmas.
The time away from the diner had made it easy to get caught up on the orders, and that was a silver lining in this cloud.
At least, when I went back to work next week, there wouldn’t be a backlog, which would make the holidays more enjoyable for me and the anxious parents awaiting their special edition books.
When Major finished the workday, we always shared dinner from one of the many meals Ivy had left in his freezer.
He’d only been late one night, but I had been so lost in my work that I hadn’t noticed.
Then, after dinner, he always convinced me to sit with him and watch a movie or play a card game.
I taught him to play Kings Corner, and he enjoyed winning more hands than he lost. Oddly enough, we’d developed an easy friendship that didn’t require ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ only ‘can I help you’ and ‘will you join me?’
Tonight, when I told him it was time to make some Thanksgiving cookies for the weekend, he refused to let me go alone. That gave me a strange sensation behind my sternum. The sensation was probably happiness, something I hadn’t experienced in far too long.
As though he’d been doing it for years, he pulled the pans from the oven, shook on the cinnamon and sugar, and slid them onto the rack. “All done.”
“I tease you, but it means a lot that you came with me tonight,” I said, holding up my splint. “It probably wouldn’t have worked one-handed, as much as I want to pretend it would.”
He untied the apron around his waist and tossed it into the hamper. “Probably not. It’s a nice splint, but you still can’t use the arm, and those pans are ungodly heavy.”
“It is a nice splint. It’s almost like someone scared everybody senseless at the hospital about ensuring it was made perfectly.”
When he gave me the side eye, I snorted and shook my head. Finally, he held up his hand. “All I said was that it was important to maintain the alignment, but that you needed a durable splint since you’d be returning to work.”
“The way I heard it, you threatened everyone with the loss of payday donuts for a month if they screwed it up. I don’t know what payday donuts are, but I know it would be a solid motivator for me, too.”
He tossed a thumb at the bakery cases behind us. “Payday donuts is when I bring in donuts from the bakery on payday. Simple, but effective as a means of keeping people loyal.”
“You’re diabolical,” I said, laughing as he shrugged.
“I wield my power via sprinkles and peanuts. It’s why all the girls want me,” he said, blowing on his fingers and rubbing them on his shirt.
“I can name about ten off the top of my head that would date you in a heartbeat,” I said, shutting down the lights and motioning him to the front of the bakery.
“Are you one of them?” he asked in my ear, making me jump.
“Major, I’m the last person you want to date. I’m like down here,” I said, holding one hand by my knees, “and you’re up here.” I held my other hand above my head. “You must be exhausted. We should head home,” I said to distract him from that discussion.
He grabbed both my hands gently and held them between us.
“We’re both right here,” he said, his gaze holding mine.
“Equals in everything except your beauty, which is unmatched by any woman I’ve yet to meet in this town.
You may sell yourself short, but I never will.
Got it?” Rather than speak, I nodded because speaking might reveal the sound of the tears I was holding back.
“Good. Before we head home, don’t we have to wait for the cookies to cool so we can put them in the case?
” he asked, motioning behind us to the oven.
“Nah, the bakers will do it when they come in tonight. I let them know they’d be waiting. They’ll be good and cool that way before they go in the case. If they go in the case.”
“If?” he asked as we grabbed our coats and shrugged them on.
“Sometimes they package them by the dozen. It’s easier than taking twelve from the case every time someone wants them.”
“Because no one buys just one?”
“You know it,” I said, laughing as I locked the bakery behind me. I was one of the lucky few who had a key to both the diner and the bakery, and it wasn’t a responsibility I took lightly.
“How about a piece of pie before we go home?” he asked. Before I could answer, he held up his hand. “And don’t say your hips don’t need a piece of pie.”
“But that’s exactly what I was going to say,” I said, biting back a smile at his long-suffering sigh. “That said, if we’re lucky, there’s a piece or two of Mel’s lemon meringue left, and my hips always need a piece of that.”
He clapped like a little kid about to see Santa Claus. “What kind of jam do you put on that?”
“What do you think we are? Monsters?” I gasped as I clutched my fake pearls.
“You have to admit, there was a fifty-fifty chance you were going to come out with something like orange marmalade.”
“Oh, that goes on peach pie.” His nose curled a bit. “Don’t knock it until you—”
“Try it,” he finished with a chuckle.
A sick beep came from his pocket, and he grimaced. “Is something wrong?”
He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked it, but his facial expression resembled someone who had just taken a whiff of rotten eggs.
Before he spoke, he sighed heavily. “I have to do something, and you’re going to want to ask questions, but promise me you’ll wait until we sit down at the diner. ”
“Do what you gotta do,” I said, so he opened his phone, stepped backward on his left leg, bounced three times fast, and then the sick beep sounded a few times again.
That’s when I realized it wasn’t coming from his phone but from his leg.
He slid the phone back into his pocket and motioned me forward.
Suddenly, that altered gait and ‘brace’ made more sense, but since I’d promised not to ask questions, I didn’t.
When he slipped his hand into mine, I was more than a bit surprised. “For the record,” he whispered into my ear as we approached the diner. “If I stood half a chance, you’d be the first person I wanted to date.”
Rather than give me a chance to say anything, he held the door for me and followed me into the diner. “Hi, guys!” Ivy said from behind the counter. “I thought you were making cookies?”
“We just finished,” I said. “Major suggested a slice of pie, and I told him he had to try a piece of Mel’s lemon meringue.”
“I asked her what kind of jam you put on it,” Major said with a lip tilt.
“Do you think we’re monsters?” Ivy asked, clutching her fake pearls, and we all burst into giggles.
“That’s exactly what I asked!”
“Did you two go to the same comedy school?” Major asked, the question filled with sarcasm.
Ivy just grinned and motioned at the case. “I have a few pieces left. Do you want coffee with that?”
The sick beep sounded again, prompting me to make an immediate decision. “We’ll take it to go. Major worked all day, and my arm is starting to get sore.”
“Oh, of course,” Ivy said with a nod. “Let me get it ready.”
She stepped away while Major lowered his brow. “We can eat it here. I’m not tired. Does your arm hurt, or was that an excuse?”
“It doesn’t hurt, but I’d rather discuss your secrets in private, wouldn’t you?” I asked pointedly.
Before he could respond, Ivy was back with a to-go container. “Did Cameron text you that the Snack Shack was delivered?”
“He didn’t, but that’s great!”
“Snack Shack?” Major asked, glancing between us.
“Great name, right?” Ivy asked. “Jaelyn came up with it. Did you know she has a business degree?”
“I did not,” Major said, as he accepted the pie container.
“She does, and we’re about to put it to good use. Jaelyn, you should stop by the farm this weekend and work with Cameron and Stephan on what they’ll need to order to stock it. Are you up for that?”