Page 8 of One More Yule Log
Gray looked amazing in a soft sweater and a pair of faded jeans, the apron and chef coat gone. He had a carry-on roller bag in one hand. “Hey, there!”
“Hello. Happy Monday,” Ben said. Hair as black as a raven’s wing with eyes like chips of granite, Gray was well named.
“It was totally Monday. Not sure it was, uh, well. It wasn’t unhappy.” Gray laughed wryly. “Hey, Miss Liv.”
“Mr. Gray. I’m so glad you’re here. Welcome to our home.” Liv put her hands on her hips, pursing her lips. “You don’t have a coat? It will be colder when you leave. You need a jacket. Daddy, can Gray borrow one from you when he goes home?”
Ben fought to keep his face straight—straight, ha!—and nodded. “Absolutely.”
Gray flushed adorably. “I forgot it at the bakery. Thanks, Liv, for thinking about me. Okay! I have all the stuff, huh? Let’s get going.”
“I’ll be in the office.” He smiled, letting himself admire Gorgeous Gray’s backside for half a minute after he passed by. Pretty-pretty.
“I told Daddy he had to go until supper,” he heard Liv saying. “So he doesn’t spoil the surprise any more.”
“I’m sorry I gave you away,” Gray murmured.
Much as Ben wanted to eavesdrop, he did have some work to do. This call was important, but not important enough to make their supper late. In fact, he really should set an alarm to go remind himself to make supper in an hour or so.
That would assure that he could get the rolls done and the salad made while the casserole cooked.
Yum.
He headed to his office, leaving the door open as promised, then sat at his desk to put on his headset. His fingers flew on the keyboard, setting an alarm, then bringing up the call software. Right. He just needed to get it done.
* * *
“That’sthe best one yet, Liv.” Gray looked at the rolled sponge, which hadn’t cracked even a bit. Now, one end was way smaller than the other, but it was a good effort.
“I’ve almost got it, don’t I? This part?” She tilted her head, examining the whole picture.
“You do. I really like the consistency of the cake.” Teaching a child to make a Swiss roll was one of the hardest instruction jobs he’d ever taken on. She had to do things for herself, but Gray wanted desperately to help so she would be pleased with the result instead of vaguely disappointed.
“Thank you. Thank you. Do you like chicken broccoli casserole? We’re having that with rolls and salad.”
“Oh, I do. I haven’t had it in years.” He fist-bumped her. “Should we put this in the fridge? If you fill it with whipped cream, it will taste a little like a Twinkie.” Next time, they would do an all-out test run with filling and ganache, putting it all together. This time he thought they’d done enough.
“Yum. Daddy loves sweets.”
An alarm sounded in the office, and Liv grinned at him. “Here he comes, Mr. Daddy Man!”
“Oh, well, let’s hide this away!” He quick wrapped the roll, then tucked it into the fridge. “We can have it for dessert.”
“Yeah. No, that’s fine. Okay. Of course. Thanks for your patience. Bye.” Ben came out of the office, blinking at them and taking off his headset. “So, did you solve all the cake issues of the world?”
“We’re making progress.” Gray wiped down the counter, and it didn’t really look as if anyone had been baking except for all the ingredients still strewn about. “We left the oven on for you. Liv tells me the casserole needs to go in.”
“It does. I’ll pop it in with the rolls. I hope you won’t judge that I use frozen ones. Yeast hates me.” Ben gave him an uncertain look.
“Cool. You have an amazing kitchen. The oven holds its temp like a dream.” Gray propped up on one of the barstools at the breakfast bar, out of the way, but available. “Holler if I can help.”
“It’s just simple. Chicken and rice and broccoli with cheese. Liv loves it. Would you like a drink? I have a bottle of wine open.”
“Hey, I would love that. I’m not much of a wine snob, though. So don’t laugh at me if I can’t tell it has woodsy notes or fruity or whatever.”
Someonehadmade fun of Gray at one point, which was ridiculous. Wine was for drinking and enjoying, and God knew he’d had his share in France. He just hadn’t learned much about it as far as swirling and sniffing and licking.
“Bah. I’m not a snob, full stop. I drink what tastes good. I took a few classes with Dale. Enough to know I like dry reds and semisweet, fruity whites.”
