Page 29

Chapter twenty-six

Naomi

“Robbie? I’m home!” I call out, tossing my car keys on the entryway table.

“In my office,” he replies back. “If you can’t find it, that’s because it’s also known as the kitchen.”

I snicker, smiling to myself. “I’ll be right there. I’m going to change out of this darn work uniform first.”

“Take your time. How was your day?” he asks loudly enough for me to hear as I walk into my room.

“Eh, the usual,” I say from inside my closet where I strip off my clothes to change. “Hey, I made a decision today.”

“Just one?”

“One important one. Are you ready for this? I’m planning to have a meeting with my dad in two weeks to talk about going down to part-time at the dealership. I want to wait until after the opening to talk to him about it, but I put in the meeting request today.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup.” I pull on a tank top and a pair of loose joggers.

“I’ve been running the numbers, and I’m at a point where it finally makes sense now.

I’m limited with how many orders I can do outside of dealership hours—thanks to the life rules we wrote down—so the only way I can grow Naomi’s Nummy Bakery is if I prioritize more time toward it during the workday. ”

“I think that sounds like a great plan,” he says enthusiastically.

“Plus, I think I’m finally ready for that conversation.” The thought of having a sit-down with my dad is intimidating, and I’m wary of what his reaction will be, but I feel optimistic about it. I’m ready to at least try.

“I know you are,” he answers back.

“Anyway, how was your day?” I cross the room to find some Chapstick, wanting to get as comfortable as possible before settling into the baking marathon I have planned for the rest of the evening.

“Great. I went through your cupboards and organized your shelves. You know, for as much grief as you give me for being messy, you have a surprisingly chaotic organizational system,” he rambles just loud enough for me to hear.

“Anyway, everything has a place now. I’ll show you later.

There also may have been an incident with Mrs. Pelinski while you were gone. ”

“Did she not remember you again?” I shut off my bedroom lights and round the corner to the kitchen.

“No, she did remember me, which was nice. But we had a bit of a tangle out on her dock. I noticed her out there watering her flowers, so I went over to help her. But by the time I got there, she had dropped the watering can into the lake, which, of course, prompted me to reach for…and subsequently fall into the lake.”

“Oh no.” I start to laugh, but the sound gets caught in my throat when I see what’s laid out on the kitchen counter.

All my most used baking utensils are set out neatly, placed right next to the where canisters of flour, cane sugar, and eggs have been placed.

Parchment paper, baking sheets, and three delivery boxes are open, arranged in a row on the counter, ready to be packed up with logo stickers applied and customer names already written on top.

Everything I need to bake for the evening is there, all prepped and laid out for me.

“Did you do all this?” I ask with wonder, my heart swelling at the sweet gesture.

“I also color-coded your ingredient spreadsheet,” he says flatly.

“Were you bored today?” I snicker, running my fingers along the countertop, taking it all in.

“No, not bored.” His shoulder lifts in a shrug. “I like helping with the operational side of things.”

He pushes his lips together, a hint of a smile forming. “Okay, maybe there was a little boredom. You weren’t home, and I didn’t want to go into town by myself.”

I sink onto my elbows so I can lean forward against the island.

“Thank you,” I say, hoping the sincerity in my eyes conveys how much I appreciate him.

“My pleasure.” He smirks, his eyes boring into mine. A chill runs up my spine at the way his expression changes, darkening with intensity. For a moment, I get lost in the way it makes me feel.

Alive.

Exhilarated.

Dangerously close to abandoning all responsibilities for the evening in favor of spending it doing anything at all that requires me to be closer to him.

“You better get moving,” he says, his voice gravelly, a clear giveaway that he’s having thoughts similar to mine.

“Right.” I give my head a shake, mentally clearing my thoughts of any distractions, and get started on my first order.

“Do you need any help?” he asks, tapping his hands on the counter.

“I don’t think so. It should be a pretty easy evening. Two dozen white chocolate macadamia nut cookies, some macaroons, and an assortment of muffins.”

“Really?” His eyes light up at the mention of what I’m realizing is his favorite thing I make.

“I’ll make you an extra muffin, don’t worry.” I snicker under my breath.

As I measure out the flour, he leans back, getting comfortable on the stool while he continues to watch me.

“Have you talked to Gabby at all?” he asks.

“No,” I say, pursing my lips in disappointment.

I was hoping she’d come around by now, but I haven’t heard from her since our conversation at the bar the other night, nor has she been participating in our friend group chat.

At the same time, I keep reminding myself to not feel bad about it—that was a conversation that needed to happen.

A sudden tapping on the sliding screen door by the deck causes both of us to jump.

“Knock, knock,” Mrs. Pelinski says, gently sliding the door open, carrying a wide assortment of stemmed flowers in her hand. I hadn’t even noticed her crossing the backyard.

“Come on in, Mrs. P.” I offer her a genuine smile.

“Hi, dear. Oh good, you’re here too, Robbie,” she says, noticing him. I’m impressed that she not only remembers him but also his name. “I feel just terrible for the ruckus I caused earlier out on the dock. That darn watering can slipped right out of my hands. Please tell me you dried off quickly?”

“I sure did, Rose,” he says. I smile at him calling her by her first name. “You might not believe it, but it wasn’t the first time something like that has happened. I’ve fallen off more docks than I should have in my day.”

“Well, I wanted to bring you flowers anyway. Nobody is falling into the lake on my watch without getting taken care of afterward.” She hands the flowers to him.

“That’s sweet, thank you,” he says sincerely. My heart warms at their interaction and what seems to be a growing friendship.

“Naomi, honey.” She turns to me. “I told all the ladies in my water aerobics class about your fledging baking business, so expect some orders coming in.”

“You’re the best, Mrs. P. Truly.”

She waves me off, retreating to the door. “Ah, nonsense. I’ll leave you two be. Have a good evening.”

“Bye! I’ll swing some donuts over tomorrow morning,” I call out before she leaves. My eyes trail her as she crosses the backyard, ducking under a tree branch while the lake softly laps onto shore behind her.

“She’s the sweetest, isn’t she?” I gush.

“She is—once she gets past the interrogation stage.” He smirks, coming to a stand. “I better put these in a vase.”

“There’s one in that cupboard there.” I use my foot to gesture to the one next to the fridge.

He fills the vase with water while I melt some butter and crack a couple eggs into my wet ingredient bowl.

As he moves around my kitchen, I’m hyperaware of every small move he makes, noticing instantly when he places the vase in the center of the island in front of me and doesn’t attempt to move back to his chair.

His closeness leaves me breathless, a buzzing force in my chest that only intensifies as he slowly inches even closer to my side. He stands there with his arms folded, his gaze ever so slowly scanning me.

“Fine. You can help,” I say just above a whisper, my voice coming out more strangled than it should. “Do you want to pour the white chocolate chips in?”

“Sure.” He moves directly behind me, gently pressing himself against my back. He presses a kiss to the side of my neck before snaking an arm underneath mine to grab the measuring cup.

“Like this?” He settles his chin on the crook of my left shoulder, peering over me as he pours them into the bowl.

“Uh-huh,” is all I can say, unable to think of actual words at a time like this. He crowds me in the best possible way, his woodsy scent engulfing me from every angle, and the weight of him at my back feels deliciously heavy.

“Okay, next, add in the salted macadamia nuts,” I say softly, smiling when he struggles to reach the cup but refuses to untangle from me.

“Now mix.”

He places his hand on top of mine, pressing the stand mixer into place, then moving with me to flick the machine on.

While it mixes, he nuzzles his face deeper into the crook of my neck. His warm breath sends waves of goosebumps across the top of my skin, and I automatically tilt my head to expose more of my neck while I bite at the corner of my smile.

My mind races, flashing with images of the million different daydreams I’ve had of baking in my kitchen this exact way with someone I like.

Of getting lost in the overwhelming chemistry with another person the same way I can get lost in the rhythmic trance of baking.

As everything with Robbie seems to be, reality proves to be so much better than my imagination, and I relish the way my heart feels exhilarated and oddly settled all at once.

“Alright, alright,” I laugh huskily, turning the mixer off before he gets too carried away. “Now use this scooper to place the cookie dough in even circles on the tray.”

I hand him the scooper while moving the bowl within reach.

“Is there a technique to this I should know about?” he says close to my ear while he scoops a clump onto the tray. “This doesn’t look as pretty as when you do it.”

“It looks just fine.”

“Just fine,” he repeats. “The mantra I live by.”

I smirk, watching him fill the trays. “Alright, now you can pop these in the oven.”

He pushes away from the counter, taking the warmth of his body with him, leaving me feeling breathless and slightly jittery.

While he slides the trays into the oven, I put the dirty dishes in the sink and grab some clean mixing bowls.

In the process, I accidentally spill some flour onto the counter, which I rarely ever do.

I chalk it up to being an outward sign of the unsettled energy still buzzing through my veins.

When I turn to open the fridge, I yelp as Robbie meets me right there, grabbing my waist with a devilish grin.

“Hey,” I squeal as he tickles, lifting me easily into his arms before twisting and setting me on top of the freshly spilled flour.

“You did not just do that,” I say with a gasp as my body slips against the surface. “I’m literally sitting in flour.”

He slides between my legs, coming face to face, sporting his typical unbothered grin. His warmth is back too, searing my thighs as he gets as close as he possibly can to me.

“Yeah, well, maybe this batch should be just for us,” he whispers as he dips his head.

I can’t help the budding smile on my face or the rush of adrenaline that surges through my veins. I don’t even think twice about the fact that my hands are dusted with flour when I bring them to lightly touch his jawline.

His lips meet mine at the same moment his hands find my hips.

He squeezes gently as he deepens the kiss with urgency, sending me reeling.

As he slides a hand up the center of my back, an overwhelming emotion threatens to consume me.

At his touch. At the delicate way he kisses me.

At the way my heart feels like it’s about to combust. How is it that my once strictly platonic friend has now become someone who has the ability to make me feel like this?

When he pulls back, our eyes lock, and I hold them with near desperation…to acknowledge whatever this is between us. To name it. To know that he feels the depth of this too.

“This is real, isn’t it?” I whisper, sliding my floured finger against his cheek, watching it leave a powdered white streak across his skin. “This thing between us?”

His stare somehow softens and ignites at the same time. He dips his head in a curt nod while rolling his lips.

“Yeah,” he says gruffly.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

I blink at him, letting my hands slide down the outside of his arms as he loosens his grip on me. The buzz ruminates steadily in the center of my chest, reluctant to cease even as he backs away, putting space between us.

“You’re terrible for productivity. Do you know that?” I murmur.

He chuckles, helping me off the counter. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to help it when you’re around.”

“Why don’t you go sit on the dock while I finish the last two orders?” I suggest, still attempting to catch my breath. “Then I’ll join you.”

“Deal. I don’t think I have a future in baking, anyway, do I?”

“Hey, you could surprise us all.” I wash my hands as Robbie cleans the flour off the counter first and then his cheek.

“I need to change again,” I say, making my way out of the kitchen. “Try not to fall in the lake this time, okay?”

“Ha-ha.” He salutes me as I disappear into my room.

When I re-emerge from my room with a fresh pair of pants on, I catch sight of Robbie outside, sitting with an arm outstretched along the top of the bench out on the dock. The image calls to me with a fervor—a subtle pull for me to go sit under that arm.

I heave a deep breath, refocusing myself so I can get to baking as fast as I can and join him.