CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Elijah surveyed the selection of sweet (ish) treats on the counter critically. They looked good enough to eat – butwerethey? He’d sampled so many, that he was now taste-blind, yet there were so many more he wanted to bake.
He was also exhausted, since it was gone nine p.m. and he’d been on his feet all day. As soon as the shop had closed at its customary four o’clock, Elijah had popped into the salon and had a quick word with Kendra to check that Nora was okay, then he’d begun work on a whole new range of recipes, most of which he hadn’t had the necessary ingredients for, so he’d had to drive to the supermarket in Thornbury, and even they’d lacked a couple of items, so he’d had to do a mad dash to the health food shop in the precinct as well. Then he’d set to, hoping he’d remembered everything.
Three and a half hours later, he had baked brownies, flapjacks, chocolate chip cookies, peanut butter bombs, and he’d even made fudge. All of them with as little carbs and sugar aspossible. Now all he had to do was to get someone to taste them and give him their verdict.
And he knew just the person.
The question he was currently asking himself was whether it was too late to go knocking on Nora’s door?
Possibly, but he didn’t want to wait. He was too wound up to leave it until tomorrow, and there was also the added problem that she mightn’t appreciate what he’d done. If that was the case, he’d prefer to have his efforts thrown back in his face in private, and not in the middle of the salon.
Making a decision, he boxed up a few of each and had just put the last of the selection into the box when his phone rang.
It was Andrea. He’d been hoping she’d call with an update on her dad. He’d sent her a text to say he was thinking of her, but hadn’t heard a peep from her until now.
‘How’s your dad?’ he asked immediately.
She sounded tired as she replied, ‘Not good. He’s fractured his hip, which I kind of suspected, and he needs an operation. I expect he’ll be in hospital for a while. In the meantime, I’ll try to get him a place in Honeymead, so when he is discharged, he can go there. Whether that’ll be permanent, I don’t know. What I do know, is that he’ll not be able to manage on his own for a long time – if ever. I suppose we’ll have to see how it goes.’
‘I’m so sorry, Andrea. As I said, if there’s anything I can do, anything you need…’
‘I hate to do this to you, but I’m going to need a fair bit of time off.’
‘No problem; I assumed that would be the case.’ How to staff the shop had been playing on his mind ever since she’d left earlier. He didn’t want to take anyone else on, but he might have to, even if it was temporary.
He’d think about that later, though.
For once, Elijah didn’t clean up after himself. Although the kitchen wasn’t in too bad a shape considering the action it had seen this evening, it wasn’t up to his usual exacting standard. Anything less than spotless was unacceptable, but this evening he was eager to get away. He’d simply have to rise extra early tomorrow morning to give the place a good scrub before baking the first of the day’s loaves. He didn’t mind. What he was about to do now, was far more important than grabbing a bit more sleep.
All he hoped was that Nora approved these new bakes, and he wasn’t about to make a complete fool of himself.
When Nora’s doorbell rang, she automatically checked the time. It was ten past nine, a bit late in the evening for uninvited guests, especially on a Monday, so before she answered it she peered through the spyhole. Then stepped back with a gasp when she saw Elijah standing there.
What didhewant?
There was only one way to find out, so she opened the door. ‘Where were you today? Biscuit missed you.’ Damn, should shehave told him that? It was better than what she’d almost said though, which was thatshe’dmissed him.
‘Andrea wasn’t in. Um, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve brought you these.’ He held up a familiar-looking box.
Nora couldn’t begin to count the number of times she’d carried one of those white cardboard boxes from the bakery to the salon, careful not to jostle its sweet and usually gooey contents.
She glowered at him. ‘Is this your idea of a joke?’
‘No, of course not!’ He looked flustered now, the light from the hallway illuminating the sudden flush of colour on his cheeks.
‘I know you know, because Kendra told me.’
‘That’s why I’m here. I’ve been working on a batch of new recipes, and I thought you might like to try them.’
Nora snorted. ‘Dear lord, don’t youknowthat diabetics shouldn’t eat sweet stuff? And I’m trying to cut out carbs, too – and that means flour, in case you hadn’t realised. So no, Idon’twant to try them. Sheesh!’
He held out the box to her. ‘The recipes I’ve been working onaresuitable for diabetics – I hope. Can I come in? Please?’
‘You hope,’ she echoed flatly. ‘That’s not much help.’ She moved aside anyway and jerked her head. ‘Five minutes.’
When he sidled past her in the narrow hall, she smelt that familiar tantalising aroma of sugar and syrup which seemed to ooze out of his pores, and she ground her teeth together as the urge to kiss him swept through her. Would he taste as sweet as he smelled, she mused, not for the first time. She wouldn’t besurprised if he did, and wouldn’t that do wonders for her self-control?Not.At the first taste, she’d want to gobble him up whole; either that, or devour every single thing in that box of his and beg for more.
