Page 131 of Only Ever You

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BASH

Faye groaned a noise so loud,Bash’s immediate response was to raise his sticky hands and make it perfectly clear to everyone in the nearby vicinity that her groan had nothing to do with him at all.

“It’s not working.”

A clatter of metal on metal.

“I think you need to whip it harder,” Chandra supplied.

Bash peered sideways at the assortment of pots, bottles, and ingredients on the counter. “Maybe you need a different cream?” He pointed the dripping nozzle in his hands at the pot Faye’d poured from. “That’s single cream, right?”

Breathing furiously, her sweat lined brow sliced towards him.

“You need whipping cream, don’t you?” Bash didn’t know if he was right or not; his baking prowess consisted of a phone and an online order form on the days whereBaked by the Dozendidn’t supply his sweet treats.

Across the expanse of the stainless steel countertop, Chandra’s wince made his stomach curl. Neither reactions were a good sign.

Swearing, Faye swiped at the industrial sized bottle. Bash set down his cone-like bag and resisted taking a swipe at the whipped, white chocolate ganache that leaked from the end. It’d taken ten minutes of instruction, but he’d gotten the hang of piping eventually.

“This was never going to work.” Faye’s shoulders fell, and Bash wanted to wrap her up in his arms when her eyes began to shimmer. The harsh white lights ofBaked’s kitchen deepened the shadows under those eyes. “I took the wrong cream from the fridge after we finished the last one.”

Exhausted sighs added weight to the air as Faye folded herself over and braced her hands on the counter, hanging her head above the mixing bowl of failed frosting. She’d hand whipped that bowl for ten minutes after the plug on the electric whisk decided it would try to burn the building down.

Gem, the student, flittered in and out of the kitchen with cleaning fluids and washcloths to disinfect the seating space.

Bash tossed his catering gloves into the bin beneath the counter and set his hands gently where Faye’s back curved at the base of her spine. She’d been on her feet since a little after six a.m, and they were only halfway through filling a stack of sweet tartlet casesBakedplanned to launch on New Year’s eve. According to the calendar on the wall, only tonight was left to finish and set them in the fridge.

The last two days had been bliss; his work was stress free, being with Faye was easy. He’d been walking on sunshine and clouds thinking nothing could be better. They’d worked out a routine where he picked her up fromBakedafter she was done for the day, and – so long as she didn’t need to get anything from her flat – brought her straight home to his place.

With one of her additional staff off with sickness, she needed the extra help today, which was where he’d come in. A pair of hands asking for no payment except for a kiss when the front door finally read “Closed” and a doughnut tossed in.

The baking, Bash wasn’t so good at, and Faye didn’t let him near her beloved giant mixing machines anyway, but he was another pair of hands on the till, or wiping the tables after customers had left. He scrubbed plates and saucers clean pretty expertly, too.

Being here gave him a hint of the new purpose he’d been searching for. Satisfied a little ache within him for wanting something more. And with Faye leaving London, Bash gave himself no choice but to soak up all of the time she could give to him.

He’d watched her dash between the kitchen, serving, fielding phone calls, online orders, and the bakery’s email inbox all day long. Every second she’d crossed his path, he was filled with pride.That’s my girl,he’d thought to himself over and over again. He knew she was stressed with everything needing to be done in the next few weeks, and Bash was going to be there at every step, not letting her sink when the waves rose too high over her one-woman ship.

Working his palms in slow circles whilst Faye breathed out her frustrations, he glanced at Chandra quietly moving the failed bowl toward the food waste bins. He locked eyes with her in a look that asked her to give them a minute of privacy.

It was seven o’clock, and time for them to go home.

“Are you alright?” Bash quietly pressed a kiss to Faye’s shoulder, hoping his softness would soothe her.

“No.” She sniffed, hunched over with her head buried in her folded arms. “I fucked this up. We don’t have time to fucktheseup – the tarts need to be on the shelf tomorrow.”

Bash had known Faye for long enough to know that she would stay here until she collapsed and probably sell her soul for everything to be perfect if he didn’t pull her away tonight.

“You’re tired, Peanut,” he said with straightforward softness. “There’s a whole stack of perfect ones right over there in the fridge ready for tomorrow. We’ll call them limited edition.” Pragmatism seemed his best shot at encouragement. “Just … let me take you home now, okay?”

Ifhiscalves screamed and the soles of his feet were like standing on needles every time he shifted his weight, then it was safe to assume that Faye’s were just the same.

It looked like he didn’t need to throw out any more persuasive devices from his arsenal when she groaned again, pulling herself upright that time. His palms brushed down to her hips whilst she reached behind herself to undo her apron.

Chandra teetered in the doorway to the office. “I’ll help you clean up.”

Their eyes met again and Bash gave her a friendly wink of thanks.

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