Page 7 of Sugar for the Mountain Man
Wesley peers over my shoulder at my creations. I tried not to go over the top despite the urge to impress him. Even if they’re nothing spectacular, I really want to find something he’ll enjoy.
“None of this is out on display.” Looking down at the three choices, he tilts his head. “They’re quite different.”
Rocking on my heels, I nod. “Well, they’re more special. I made them with you in mind.”
His eyes flick up, and I catch a twitch to his mouth. Almost like he wants to smile, but forgot how to. “You’ve gone out of your way, Maribel.”
My smile forms naturally as he uses my weakness against me. Before I can get too distracted, I introduce him to each dish I spent the last handful of hours alone creating.
I’ve always had a passion for creating pastries, but there’s always that small worry that they aren’t good enough. With Wesley, this isn’t a complete excuse to get him alone with me. Whatever he doesn’t like about the baked goods, I want to improve.
If I can find the right treat, something good enough to bring a smile to his lips instead of his frown, I would count that as the biggest win.
Just imagining it now has me fighting off a dreamy sigh.
If he smiles, I think he’ll make me fall impossibly more in love with him.
“This is a scone.” Grazing my finger against the pan, I slide it in his direction. “I went with a lemon blueberry combination, drizzling it with a lemon glaze.”
Holding my breath, I watch as the corners of his eyes wrinkle while his nose has the smallest scrunch. Is it the citrus? Maybe he’s not a fan of fruit. There are so many possibilities, it’s not funny.
Despite trying his best to conceal his displeasure, he scoops some up anyway and plops it into his mouth. Holding my breath as he chews, I watch his throat bob and feel a pulse low in my stomach.
I know it’s a good scone. I tried a piece before I considered giving him any of it. Still, I want to hear him give his opinion.
His mouth pinches together, and he nods. “It’s good.”
Ugh.He doesn’t seem like the type to tell someone what they want to hear. If he doesn’t like it, why doesn’t he just say so? He’s not trying to save my feelings, is he? I can take it, seriously.
“Okay, cool. Moving on.” Trying to mask my disappointment with the next dish, I steal the rest of his scone before he tries totake another bite to make me feel better. “Next one is going to be an apple pie. But I did something a little different.”
Sliding it toward him, I hope that he doesn’t actually hate fruit. If that’s the case, then this one will be another failure.
He stares at the slice, squinting as he tries to see what’s different. To the normal eye, it looks just like any other slice. Scooping up some chunks of apple, they fall off his spoon in an ooze.
Chewing on my lip nervously, I follow his movement as he takes the bite.
His brows lift in genuine surprise, and before he can compliment me with words, he’s plunging in for another bite.
Oh my goodness. I think I’ve put myself in the right direction. It’s not the fruit. So, what else could it be?
“What is the crust made out of?” He pokes at it, examining it closely. If he takes another bite and slowly lets his taste buds reveal my secrets, he’ll taste the cheese I put in the crust, picking out where I pulled back on the sugar.
“It’s a secret.” Lips curling, I keep it locked up tight. “If I tell you, then you won’t want me to make it for you again in the future. I can’t have that.”
Teasing him, my smile stretches further when his mouth twitches like he’s amused. It’s a small success, but one I’m willing to clutch onto.
So, now I have to figure out what the glaring problem is.
Looking between the two he’s already tried, I pick out the differences and make the ultimate guess. It’s a ludicrous one, but there’s only one way to confirm my suspicions.
“The last one is a simple puff pastry. Can’t go too wrong with the basics. We had some extra strawberries on hand, so I went ahead and loaded them up.” Stealing away his pie before he ruins his appetite, I give him the final dish to try, hoping it’ll be what wins him over, but having a gut feeling that it might not be.
He looks at the powdered sugar, and once again, his face gives it away. Despite the grimace on his face, he still takes a bite. The moment the sugar hits his tongue, my suspicions are proved true.
Does he even like sweets? Who in the heck comes to a bakery if they don’t?
As I’m thinking about the reasons behind his actions,
