Page 21 of Digging Up Love
Ever since she’d hit thirty thousand followers last year, she’d allowed herself to dream. But the leap from dreaming to doing was proving harder. She needed to bridge the gap from small-town home-based bakery to trendy urban cookie shop without letting her family fall by the wayside, and juggling Honey and Hickory responsibilities didn’t make the balancing act any easier.
Her phone buzzed with a calendar notification. Shoot. She’d forgotten about the lollipop cookies for her friend Laney’s baby shower, a super simple but tedious bake. She raced down both flights of stairs to the kitchen and grabbed her apron. Flinging open cupboards and drawers, she gathered her ingredients with chaotic precision.
Twenty minutes later, she was kneading gel food color into a portion of the dough when she heard the back door open.Be cool, be cool.
“Alisha?”
“In the kitchen. You can come on through.” Knuckle-deep in crimson, she said, “Caught red-hand—” She looked up and froze. Quentin stood at the entrance to the kitchen. His shirt clung to his torso like a second skin, sleeves bunched up around his elbows in a gratuitous display of mud-streaked forearms. Raindrops glistened in his curls like dew.
“So, it’s raining,” he said.
She glanced behind her out the window above the sink into a yard obscured by curtains of rain. A crack of lightning punctuated the downpour thundering on the roof. How had she not noticed? Turning back, she caught Quentin in the act of plucking his sopping shirt away from his chest. “Yeah, I see that now.”
Oh yes, she could see. A lot. The white shirt clung to him like body paint, highlighting his broad chest and narrow waist, outlining the ridges of his abs. She discreetly rested the inside of her wrist on the cool granite in lieu of fanning her face.
“I’ve got an extra hoodie in the truck, but first, is there a, uh, bathroom I could use?” He lifted his muddy arms by his face like a scrubbed-up surgeon, and Alisha gripped the counter edge.
“Just down the hall. Can’t miss it.”
“Thanks.” He padded away, and she sunk down onto one elbow, back of her wrist to her forehead.Get it together, woman.Four more months of this. Can’t be swooning every time he comes in to wash up.
By the time he reappeared, looking cozy in a thick forest-green-and-gold CNU hoodie, she’d colored another portion of dough and knocked back an entire glass of ice water.
“Whoa, it’s like a burst of sunshine in here,” he said, eyeing the five mounds of dough, each a different color. She had to agree, but for a totally different reason. Quentin upped the temperature in the room like solar rays under a magnifying glass.
“I’m making sugar cookies for a candy shop–themed baby shower. They’ll end up looking like old-school lollipops.”
“So this is what you meant about ‘baking projects.’” He stepped closer, and she caught a hint of spicy cologne. Nothing strong, just enough to smell, well, yummy. “Is this what you do for a living?”
She shook her head. “Just a side hustle. My real job is making the desserts for my grandpa’s barbecue restaurant.”
“Best of both worlds.”
“Sometimes.” Her tone hit a notch just below neutral, but something kept her from autocorrecting.
A flicker of awareness passed over his features. “My dad and brother have a family business, so I know how that goes.” Quentin leaned one hip against the island, at ease, like chatting with her was an everyday occurrence.
“My dad is a mechanic, and my brother followed in his footsteps. Opened up his own custom shop a couple years ago. But I was never supposed to work with cars. Dad had other plans for me.” He hooked a thumb on the counter. “I’m not sure whether that makes me lucky or not.”
“Lucky.” Alisha dropped the word like a rock, then winced at the ripples she’d caused in the conversation. “I mean, you’re doing what you want. That’s good, right?”
He palmed the back of his neck, and the hoodie rode up, exposing a line of taut brown skin. She dipped her chin and only ended up checking him out under her lashes. Worse than outright ogling.Snap out of it, Alisha.
“Sort of. But the fact that I didn’t become a mechanic didn’t stop him from mapping my whole future. He decided early on I was going to be the one who did big things.” He impersonated a deep, reverberating intonation, then switched into his normal register, tone wry. “Only it turned out my idea of big things were extinct creatures.”
Alisha offered a smile in solidarity. “Really, really big things.”
Quentin let out a laugh. “True. I sometimes wonder if being roped into the family business would’ve been easier.”
“Easier? Than the chance to follow your dreams?” The note of sarcasm had crept into her words uninvited.
“No, I meant easier than winding up a disappointment, I guess.” He traced the swirls of granite with a fingertip. “But this dig might be a chance to show my dad my career is viable.”
Alisha nodded to cover the mix of emotions in the pit of her stomach. She knew what it was like to feel squashed under the weight of family obligations, wanted this chance for Quentin. But what would it mean for her own family if the dig turned out to be big news? Sure, Grandpa would love the sensationalism, but Granny didn’t need that kind of upheaval.
“Anyway,” Quentin said, pushing off the island, “I just came in for some water. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Oh, no worries. Glasses are in the cupboard to the right of the sink.” She rolled out the dough on a piece of parchment, forcing herself not to track his movements.
