Page 26 of Their Romantic Chalet

“I bake things. I get paid. Therefore, I technically am a professional baker.”

I grin. Loving this girl’s tenacity. Technically correct, I suppose.

We head into the kitchen, and find the ingredients we need.

“Besides,” Lavender says as she gets to work, measuring flour out. “I know how to make my favorite recipe of Hannah’s. It’s a really sweet, light cake. I’m going to make the wild assumption your grandmother knows what Serena’s favorite type of cake is.”

“Yes. She spoils my sister. It’s why she’s so rotten.”

Lavender smiles at me. “I can alter the recipe for this. And it hopefully won’t come out bludgeoned like your brownies.”

“And what role do I play in this?”

She hands me a bowl full of random ingredients, along with a wooden spoon. “Mix. Mix until it’s an actual batter.”

“You do know we have both an electric stand mixer and hand mixer, right?”

“Yes, but both of those are too harsh. This recipe distinctly calls for a strong set of hands to beat it until it's ready.” She shows me her hands. “Do you really think these dainty little hands could manage such a task?”

“I know what those hands can do. They are incredibly skilled.” I look at her with a sly grin. “But I’ll relent and mix this anyway.”

“Good, I need to make the frosting.”

Together, we worked on Serena’s cake. She’s really into all of it, quickly getting into the flow. She’s a baker in spirit, and I’m saddened that her parents will never see her in her true element.

If anything, she’s not cut out to be the businesswoman her parents want her to be. She’s too kind. She wants the best for people and has never cared about money beyond having enough of it to survive.

So she’d be a terrible CEO.

Finally, the cake has cooled ad it’s time to frost.Lavender stop me from writing Serena the Little Demon, on her cake. I never get to have any fun.

When we present the cake to the party, it’s a hit. It’s so good that it manages to shut Serena up for a bit, and that’s the highest of compliments.

Grandpa came over to Lavender and I, sitting in our chairs, a hand on each of our shoulders. “Everyone can give thanks to Hawk’s fiancée here for this lovely cake.”

Lavender blushes at being called my fiancée.

“She’s not my fiancée,” I correct, ashamed that his words aren’t true.

“Then you ought to fix that, Hawk. Get on it. She’s one hell of a baker and stepped in to help us in our time of need. Just think, what would we do without her today?”

“Eating mediocre grocery store cake?”

“Yes. We would. And that would be terrible.”

I lean in and pull her close as everyone claps and cheers, shouting their thanks and complimenting the taste of her work.

“See? They’re ready to accept you for who you are, Lavender. We love you for who you are. I love you for who you are.”

Lavender is as red as strawberries, but she’s smiling. She’s happy.

And I want her to remain that way forevermore.

TEN

lavender

Another morning in Hawk’s arms.

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