“Shoot. Yes, it was. I’ll have to make more.” She scurried to the pantry to gather the ingredients. “Between this and the cakes, it’s going to take me all day. If you want to go for a walk or watch television, that’s fine. I’m afraid I won’t be much company until the orders are filled.” She set a loaf of French bread on a cutting board and took a serrated knife from the block.
“Let me help you. What can I do first?”
“I’ve got it.” She sawed into the slightly stale bread, cutting it into small pieces. “I should’ve paid more attention to the oven temperature. I screwed it up, so I’ll fix it.”
“Destiny.” He stepped behind her, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “It’s okay to make mistakes, and it’s okay to let people help you. Especially when you’re injured.”
Warmth radiated from his body, and she closed her eyes for a long blink, giving herself three full seconds to enjoy the sensation before stepping out of his embrace. “Spending all day cooped up in my bakery won’t help you get your memories back.”
“If I help you, it won’t take all day.” He carried the now-empty pan to the sink and started to wash it.
He wasn’t wrong. Together, they could work at twice the speed, and maybe, just maybe…
“Put that down. I have an idea.” She strode toward the four-tiered cake she’d begun frosting before the bread pudding disaster and filled a bag with gold icing. “You can help by decorating this cake.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know the first thing about cake decorating.” He dried his hands and strode toward her.
“It’s easy. Here are all the icing tips.” She gestured to the box of little silver tips and set a sheet of laminated paper next to it. “This illustrates how the icing will look coming out of each one, and this is what you’re making.”
She tapped a tablet screen and pulled up the image the customer had submitted. “It’s for a St. Patrick’s Day party happening tonight. Green, white, and gold. Argyle pattern on the bottom layer, draw some shamrocks on the others, and top it with a little pot of gold. It’s art. You’re an artist. You can even make a little fondant rainbow if you want to jazz it up.”
He stilled, staring at the partially frosted cake. “I don’t remember being an artist.”
“It’ll come back to you.” She pressed a bag of green frosting into his hand. “Like riding a bike.” Or so she hoped. If she could get him designing again, shifting his thoughts away from trying to remember his past and focusing them on creating art, maybe something might come to him.
His brow furrowed, his gaze cutting between the cake, the icing bag, and the example image, but still, he didn’t move.
“Like this.” She took his hand and guided it to the counter, squeezing the bag and creating a star-shaped blob of green. “And if you move your hand while you squeeze…” She guided him to the right, lifting and pushing back to make a series of shell shapes. “That’s what the bottom border should look like.”
He blinked, a strange expression overtaking his features that Destiny hoped to heaven was the look of a memory jogging loose. “Yeah. Okay, I can do this.”
She backed away slowly so she didn’t spook whatever his brain was attempting to conjure and grabbed another loaf of bread to start the pudding recipe again. Her hand tingled, and she peeked beneath the bandage. Whatever ointment he’d pulled from his magical pocket was a miracle unto itself. Her burns had completely healed.So cool.
She tossed the gauze into the trash and chuckled as she imagined all the women of the world having pockets like Pete’s, being able to access whatever they needed, whenever they needed it. Now that was a miracle-worthy endeavor. Hell, most women would be thrilled for their pants to be blessed with pockets they could fit a cellphone in. Or at least a full set of keys.
Fifteen minutes passed as she worked on the recipe, and she put a new pan of pudding into the oven, double-checking the temperature so she didn’t burn it again. She set the timer and checked the computer for the next order before glancing at Pete, who put the final swirl on the top layer of cake.
“Done,” he said, and he set the icing bag on the counter. “What’s next?”
Destiny peered at his creation and padded toward him. The cake looked magnificent, the lines clean, the shamrocks virtually perfect. “You did this whole thing in fifteen minutes.”
She parked her hands on her hips and admired his work. It would have taken her at least an hour to pull off something this elaborate, and that was when she had access to her magic. He’d even added flakes of edible glitter to highlight the gold coins. She hadn’t given him any glitter. Did he pull that out of the cotton/poly blend too?
“It took me a minute to get used to the pressure. The next one should be faster.” He wiped the back of his hand across his cheek, smudging himself with gold icing.
“Faster?” She laughed and wiped his face with a hand towel. “At this rate, we’ll be done before lunchtime.”
“I’m okay with that.” His gaze dropped to her mouth before flicking back to her eyes. “Then we can finish what we started before I blacked out.”
Her stomach looped, but she managed to cut off the maniacal giggle before it escaped her throat. That idea sounded way better than lunch. Heat crept up her neck as she held his gaze, and her pulse quickened. Was it bad that she considered saying to hell with the cakes and taking him upstairs right then and there?
Yes, Destiny. You’ve got customers counting on you. Realms, even.Still, it was a fun idea to entertain.
“We’ll see about that.” She playfully slapped the towel against his stomach and headed for the walk-in fridge to cool herself off. Holy hellhounds in a handbasket. If their chemistry got any hotter, she’d short-circuit the entire city.
She took a deep breath, letting the chilled air center her. Next up was a full sheet cake with psychedelic swirls in a pallet straight from the seventies. She’d baked the cakes in advance, using her angel magic to preserve them, so frosting was the only step left.
“Grab the tablet and pull up order one sixty-two.” She carried the cake to the table before retrieving tubs of brown, yellow, and orange icing. “This one is for an adult birthday, and when you’re done, you can start on one sixty-three if you like.”
