Page 10 of Stolen Goods
Who are you?
Where did you come from?
But before either of those questions rose to her lips, he leaned back over the table, reached for the food coloring, and deepened some of the tones before retrieving another brush. This time, as he worked, Addy stared at him, the cut lines of his jaw, the tan sheen of his skin, the contours of strong muscles visible just below the edge of his sleeve.
Handsome.
Polite.
An artist.
And not afraid to ask a woman for help.
Did you walk straight out of my dreams and into my bakery?
Seriously—he was a bona fide Prince Charming.
Here.
In her kitchen.
Impossibly within reach.
Addy could already see it—her imagination had a way of zooming into overdrive at the first hint of a romantic situation. She would thank him profusely for the help with the cake. He would say it was nothing, but maybe, he could take her out for dinner sometime? Or no—even better. They’d part ways, and then, somehow, he’d be a guest at the wedding and recognize his handiwork and come find her in the kitchen, professing he’d been unable to stop thinking about her. In five years, Addy would laugh in her white gown as he jokingly told the entire ballroom how for a brief moment when they first met, she thought he was an ax murderer, until she saw him paint. Everyone would laugh. Then they’d kiss, and live happily ever after.
“How’s that?”
Addy sighed. “Perfect.”
And then she blinked, realizing he was actually asking about the cake and not commenting on the Harlequin romance playing out in her mind. She dropped her eyes to the fondant, breath hitching as she took in his creation, an abstract vision of a rose garden in bloom.
“Perfect,” she repeated. Because it was. “I can’t believe you— I mean, this is really— I’m speechless.”
“It’s nothing.” He waved her off with a lopsided grin. “I’m happy to help.”
“Well, you did, you really did,” Addy continued gushing, eyes still on the makeshift canvas before her, unable to quite believe this was real life. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“My pleasure,” he commented softly. “Would you mind if I borrowed your cell phone now? I just need to call Triple A. It’ll only take a minute.”
“Oh, sure.”
Without a second thought, Addy reached into her pocket and pulled her cell phone free, then paused for a moment to unlock the screen before handing it over. While he stepped to the side to make his call, Addy stared at the fondant and let the world drift away as the rest of the cake came bursting to life in her mind’s eye.
Do I pipe the edge in a teardrop pattern?
Or a pearl border?
Or maybe shells?
What if I leave the edge blank and decorate the base of the monogram instead? Simple white piping? That would look a little cleaner, a little more modern. Actually, I think that’s perfect. And I’ll add a few green leaves to make the colors pop.
Addy looked up from the fondant and turned toward the fridge, fingers itching to test various arrangements of buttercream flowers. It was only then that she realized she was alone.
She spun.
Once.
Twice.
