Page 97 of Perfect Pairing
“I have this dream…” I trailed off. I dropped my voice to barely above a whisper. “I want to write a cookbook.”
Ezra blinked, surprised, but then his face broke into a broad grin. “You’d write the best damn cookbook out there,” he said firmly.
“You think?”
“Iknow.”
“I just…have all these ideas running around.” I tapped my temple. “And I’ve implemented some of them at the bakery, but… Is it greedy of me to want to expand?”
“Of course not. You’ve worked your ass off to make that bakery a success in this small town, and the take-and-bake mixes were a truly ingenious idea. I know the people across the world who have purchased them would love the chance to own a full book of your recipes.”
“And Granny’s. I couldn’t do it without her.”
“Well, of course not,” he agreed, reaching across the table for my hand. “And I love that she’s been able to give you something so special even though she’s no longer here.”
“Me too.” I gave him a watery smile, my nose stinging with emotion at how easily he accepted this was something I was going to do, how quick he was to support me.
This man—I didn’t deserve him, but I’d spend foreverproving my worth anyway.
“What would you call it?”
I grinned, loving that he knew me well enough to understand I’d already had that figured out.
“‘The Granny Smith Collection: Traditional Recipes with Modern Flair,’” I said proudly. “Or something like that. But I know I want Granny to be the headline.”
“Even though you’re doing all the work?” Ezra asked.
“But I didn’t do all the work. Probably seventy-five percent of my recipes are ones I’ve taken from her cookbook and updated. Honoring her is the only way I’ll do it.”
“Fair enough.”
I dropped my gaze to the table and added, “We could…work on it together. Make it a full-fledged cookbook instead of just pastry recipes.”
He was silent for so long, I eventually hazarded a glance, bracing myself for his reaction.
His mouth popped open comically in shock. “You mean that?”
“Of course I do. You’re the best chef I know, and people everywhere would love your recipes as much as mine.”
“I’ve never given it much thought,” he said. “But maybe that was because I had too much other shit going on that kept me from pursuing that sort of dream.” He squeezed my fingers. “Can I think about it?”
“Of course you can. Take all the time you need.”
Ezra grinned. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Funny,” I said, matching his expression, “I was just thinking the same about you.”
Ezra hummed in response, his tongue darting out to trace across his bottom lip, distracting me. But I wasn’t ready to pop this bubble—though I was practically vibrating in anticipation of where I knew the night would lead. Still, I wanted more time to enjoy this moment, reminiscent of us chatting on the phone but being able to reach out and touch him if I felt like it.
“What doyouplan to do with your time off?” I asked.
“A little of this, a little of that,” he said noncommittally, and I groaned.
“C’mon, Chef. You can do better than that.”
His eyes met mine then, their chocolatey depths turning molten in the candlelight. “You promise you won’t laugh?”
“I would never laugh at you.”
