Page 45 of The Alpha and the Baker

Felicia

In for a Penny, in for a Peso

So, somehow, I’d gotten involved in an inter-pack bake-off. It was just about the last thing I’d expected when Cas had come back from the market looking quite harried, but it seemed entirely apropos.

I didn’t know exactly what had brought about the sudden challenge, and I got the distinct feeling that Cas wasn’t telling me everything, but I wasn’t bothered. It was unorthodox, but I was excited for the chance to get to bake for the McCallisters again.

Besides, I’d cut my teeth by participating in small, local competitions. That habit had fallen away as I furthered my career, but what if I could use my skills to enjoy a little nostalgia and help my boyfriend and his amazing family? It was a win-win situation.

“So wait, what are the rounds again?” I asked, wiping my hands on my apron once I’d put the croissants in the oven. I was way ahead of schedule, partly because it was Saturday, and partly because I wasn’t alone in the kitchen.

No, I was the opposite of alone.

Both Cas and Chris were there, and they’d happily been carrying around and moving all the heaviest stuff for me, which helped me breeze through my morning checklist. In fact, they put me so far ahead that I could go slower on actually making the stuff, which was convenient considering I was explaining it all to Saoirse, who was following me around like a hawk.

Her acuity for a lot of the fundamentals of baking impressed me, and I enjoyed showing her the ropes more than I’d thought I would. She had an excellent base of knowledge and far more patience than I’d had at her age.

“I brought the paperwork along,” Cas said, setting down the case of cream cheese I’d asked him to get from the fridge.

They were little personal-sized tubs that I sold for fifty cents apiece to the regular and a dollar for the couple of specialty flavors like strawberry and garlic chive.

The profit margin on them was nothing to laugh at. “Let me grab it real fast.”

“Already got it,” Chris said, returning from the front with a hefty packet in his hands.

I was still getting used to the enhanced senses the shifters had, so it was a bit uncanny that he’d heard Cas over the cacophony of mixers, oven fans, and the like.

I figured I’d acclimate as I spent more time with them, but it still threw me for a loop.

“Thanks,” I said, taking it and looking it over.

Although time was of the essence, Cas had given me a few days to think about helping his pack with the bake-off. I was going to agree right away, just on principle, but I appreciated the extra time to be practical about it. In the end, I figured I could chip in with a little over a week to prepare.

“Let me see...” I murmured as I quickly flipped through the rules to look for a description of the rounds.

Round One:

Cookies. A dozen identical in size and shape.

Round Two:

Pies. One 18-inch pan. Intact bottom crust, filling, and decorative garnish on top.

Round Three:

Cobbler. Minimum 8 x 8 baking pan. Fruit filling of choice.

Round Four:

Savory. Must be enough for all judges to sample.

Round Five:

Confection. Must have four, identical in shape and size.

Round Six:

Custard. Can be miniature versions or a batch, but all pieces must be identical in shape and size.

Round Seven:

Cake. Minimum six inches and fully iced.

Round Eight:

Showstopper. Anything goes. This is your chance to wow the judges and make something truly incredible.

Phew, eight rounds were nothing to sneeze at. And the quantities they were asking! It wasn’t impossible, but I wasn’t exceptional at some of the categories. I had my specialties, of course, but confections definitely weren’t among them.

There was also the matter of timing. I could make all of these in two weeks, sure, but there was no way that they would be fresh and tasty for the day of the competition, even if I tried to plan them in order of what could keep the longest.

“You mentioned something about teams?” I murmured as I flipped back to the beginning.

“Yeah, we can have up to ten in our team,” Cas said, still looking a bit chagrined. His slight embarrassment was what made me suspicious that there was something he was leaving out, but I figured one conversation with Polly, Penny, and Gammy McCallister would get the rest of the details out of him.

I knew it had to do with a rival pack, though, and that was enough.

I blew out a breath. “Okay, so here’s the thing.

Most of this stuff needs to be baked fresh.

I can do a whole lot of prep and start the showstopper the day before, but I won’t be able to do everything.

” I tapped my chin. “I can do the cookies, cobbler, and the showstopper, as well as help anyone else decide what recipe they wanna use, but that’s probably it without any of our stuff getting stale. ”

“I think they mentioned there would be ovens there,” Saoirse said.

“That’s good to know.” I headed over to my shelf where I kept all my recipe books and binders from school.

Grabbing a notebook, I sat down to see if I could come up with the bare bones of a plan.

I didn’t expect to make a ton of progress since it was during working hours, but my mind was starting to whirl in a pleasant way.

It helped a lot to know that I was going to have three people’s help for my Sunday prep.

Even if they weren’t professional bakers, they were a huge help.

Time slipped by pleasantly despite the lack of customers coming in. It embarrassed me that Cas, Chris, and Saoirse were seeing just how few people frequented my store on a Saturday, but if they thought anything about it, they didn’t say so.

“Hey, I had a thought,” Cas said, stopping by where I was sitting when I stole another ten minutes to write out ideas. “My mother makes amazing beef wellington on very special occasions. Think that could be our savory dish?”

“Beef wellington?” I repeated. “As in, Gordon Ramsay’s signature dish?”

“Uh… yes?”

Right. Cas had mentioned he didn’t watch much television and also hated reality TV with a passion. He likely didn’t know the blond, foul-mouthed chef.

Huh, so Mr. Ramsey had an untapped market in the shifter community. I doubted that would come in handy, but it felt good to know.

“That would be perfect, Cas. Does anyone else in your family have any claims to fame?”

“Well, Auntie Letitia could do her rhubarb and sweet cream cake that you filled in for after my daughter massacred the baking kitchen,” Chris offered.

Of course, it was Arietty who had been the one who burned the cake. I’d forgotten if I knew that already, but it made a lot of sense.

“That works for me.”

Bit by bit, we went through it, putting together who we could ask to do what. It was far more fun than it had any right to be, and for a while it felt like I actually owned a massive, successful bakery, and we were planning an elaborate menu for our next week.

Maybe someday, I mused to myself as I paused our planning to take my afternoon loaves out of the oven.

Saturday sped by much more quickly than it usually did, and before I knew it, Saoirse was asking to lock the door and flip my OPEN sign over to CLOSED, so we could get started on prep. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself looking forward to the Sunday slog way more than I usually did.

“All right, let’s start with bagel dough. We’ll do the plains, then the specialties. After that, we’ll prep everything we need for doughnuts and croissants.”

“Okay. I remember bagels from this morning.”

“You remember all the steps that come after they’ve proofed,” I corrected gently. “Now we’re going to do everything that comes before that.”

“Like putting them in the retarder?” she asked brightly.

“Yes, very good,” I said, a bit surprised she knew the term. “Do you have something like that at home?”

“No, but Uncle Cas warned me about it and said I needed to be mature about the name.”

I shot Cas a fairly amused look, and he gave me a wry smile. “Just being proactive. Teenagers, ya know?”

“Just because I’m not a billion years old like you doesn’t mean I’m a little kid,” Saoirse countered, and I took that as my cue to cut in.

“Anyway, Chris, would you mind grabbing me a couple of bags of flour? We’ve got a lot to do.”

Despite having a pupil at my side, we got through my Sunday prep in record time. I was so thrilled at the leap forward in my schedule that I could kiss Cas. But then I remembered we were dating, so I did kiss him.

I managed not to get carried away for once, if only because his niece began to make gagging sounds after a few moments.

Ah, to be young again.

My feelings for him were growing so rapidly in such a short time that I could scarcely believe it.

I’d never felt so supported, and I could feel myself quickly growing addicted to the ease of it all.

It wasn’t just what he did for me—that would be a pretty shallow basis for a relationship.

No, it went beyond that. He made me want to be a better person, while also making me believe I could.

The world felt so much more manageable whenever he smiled at me.

Which was a feeling I never wanted to grow tired of.

By the time everything was turned, I found myself wishing they could all stick around longer so we could really dive into planning, but I could tell poor Saoirse was exhausted, and Chris was beginning to check his phone more and more, no doubt missing his wife and daughter.

Another thing I liked about the McCallisters was that they all genuinely liked each other.

There were no jokes about parents hating children or husbands hating wives.

It was refreshing. While I’d never experienced that in my own family for obvious reasons, I’d seen it on television far too often and always thought it was weird. Why marry someone if you hated them?