Page 6 of The Alpha and the Baker

Felicia

A Recipe for Attraction

I started measuring the ingredients for all three of the cakes.

Unlike a home baker, I had enough ovens that I could cook all three at the same time without worrying about variations in the batter needing different baking times in the same range.

And, with more than a dozen food scales at my disposal, it was easy to weigh what I needed and not getting anything mixed up.

Had I bitten off more than I could chew by agreeing to deliver three cakes by the afternoon?

Absolutely. But I was kind of excited about it.

The constant drudgery of trying to make sure I was caught up with bills and taking better advantage of online advertising felt like never-ending chores with no reward.

But speed baking three quality sheet cakes? That was a challenge I could win.

And honestly, I could use the win.

For the vanilla cake, with the layers of cream and tart rhubarb jam, I decided on a Genoise sponge.

It was soft and similar to a butter cake, but with whipped eggs folded into the batter to give it a pillowy sponginess.

It would be too delicate for a thick, rich ganache or something between all the layers, but the rhubarb and cream would be a right treat.

And since the chocolate cake did have ganache, I went with a butter cake recipe for the base.

It was simple, but that was all right. The real star would be the frosting and filling.

Lastly was the lemon cake. I decided on a sponge cake, but not as light and airy as the vanilla.

However, when I spotted a large jar of lemon curd in my industrial fridge that had been hardly used, I decided to add a center layer of that.

Did the client ask for it? No. But I knew it would be a lovely sweet yet sour contrast to the rich creaminess of the cream cheese frosting.

It would be delicious. Besides, if I didn’t use the jar soon, I’d have to throw it away, and I didn’t like wasting anything.

“Waste not, want not,” I murmured as I added it to my ingredient pile for the third cake. “Let’s do this!”

It felt a bit like being back in the supplemental trade education program in high school, when I felt like I was an RPG character on a mission and guaranteed success as long as I stuck to it and gave it my all. It was a more innocent time, even if I had a lot less than I had now.

That was the funny thing about life. As children, we had so little actual power over our lives and what happened in them, needing to rely on adults for most legal, financial, and medical matters, and yet we often felt so unstoppable.

As an adult, I was in charge of my own destiny, and I felt like I spent more time worrying about making the wrong choice than actually making any real choices.

Once everything was all laid out, I began to approach it in a circuit.

I started with the Genoise sponge—creaming the wet ingredients, putting all the dry together, beating the eggs and sugar on full speed in my stand mixer then folding in half flour, cornstarch, baking powder, and the pinch of salt into the stiff, white mixture, careful not to knock too much air out.

It was precise, it was meticulous, but most importantly, it was fun. I put music on, and although I didn’t sing or dance while folding in the flour or pouring the batter into my prepped trays, it was like a sock hop in my kitchen once those steps were done. A productive sock hop.

I shimmied over to the chocolate cake station and started going at that. The process went faster since I didn’t have to worry about the light and fluffy eggs. I was making great time, so if I took ten seconds longer to sing a solo into a wooden spoon, well, that was nobody’s business.

Not that a single customer had come in after the stranger.

Wait, no, not the stranger. He had a name to go with that handsome face.

Cas.

Even if I never saw the guy again, he sure had made my day pretty spectacular. It was still early, but I was sure I would nail all three cakes, and not only would I get seven hundred dollars right into my pocket, but some little girl’s day wasn’t going to be ruined.

That was a win-win in my book if there ever was one.

Once the second cake was in another oven, it was time to pull out the first cake and let it cool before I moved on to the third cake.

I made sure to check my timers five times over, because I didn’t want anything to be even mildly burnt since an unplanned scorching was why Cas visited my bakery in the first place.

I would have to ask him what had led him to mine. It could provide some very useful insight about my online presence. It most definitely wasn’t just an excuse to talk to him again.

I rolled my eyes at myself. I wasn’t really serious about flirting with him, after all, I’d likely never interact with him again after I delivered the cakes, but he had unknowingly put a majorly positive spin on my day, so I definitely had some warm feelings toward him.

He might never know the effect he had on my business, or even my day, but that was okay.

I liked to think he’d get his good karma in time.

He was getting three delicious cakes.

Time began to move once all the cakes were either cooling or cooked, and I found myself completely locked into the rhythm, taking a break every ten minutes to do a quick walk around the front of the shop to make sure I hadn’t missed anything.

So far, I’d never missed the tinkling of the bell, but it never hurt to double-check.

I reveled in the rhythm of cutting the layers, mixing fillings, assembling, icing.

Man, I’d forgotten how I loved doing bigger projects.

Sure, there was a lot of joy to be found in making a batch of croissants, or fresh bagels, and chocolate cookies, but there was something special about a cake for a celebration.

Knowing that likely a hundred or so people were all going to share something tasty together, laughing and enjoying their party filled me with a contentment I couldn’t get anywhere else.

I was just one person, and I couldn’t change the whole world, but I could help other people make amazing memories.

And that was a power I wouldn’t ever take for granted.

Somehow, despite all the odds, I stepped back from three finished cakes at two forty-five. They weren’t the most glamorous things I’d ever made, with very straightforward icing and almost no decoration, but what mattered was that they were ready and not burnt.

“Time to box these babies up.”

I did just that, then closed up the shop.

Usually, I did that around two p.m., but all my attention had been on the final steps of the cakes, so I hadn’t had a chance.

It wasn’t like it mattered, since no customers had come in anyway.

I wasn’t salty about it, though. Bakeries were always quiet in the afternoons.

I wish Mom could have seen this .

The thought surprised me enough to pause while I was putting the second cake into my stabilized cake carrier in my delivery van.

It was a used vehicle that I’d fixed up myself before I even opened the bakery.

My mom had often sat in a folding chair and watched me, switching up the playlist whenever the algorithm took us too far off course.

It had been such a fun project, and I couldn’t help but think how proud she’d be to see me using it for a big order half an hour away.

“Thank you, Ibu, ” I murmured, imagining the rush of emotion was my mother’s arms around me.

While I usually called her “Mom”, sometimes it simply felt right to call her that in her native language.

Bahasa Melayu was my second tongue, and everything I’d learned of it, I’d learned from my mom. She had blessed me with that heritage.

I wished I had someone I could share stories about her with.

It turned out that when one dedicated their all to finishing their education and opening their own business, there wasn’t a lot of time for anything else.

Part of me wished I had strayed off course a little while growing up, that I had dipped my toes into partying and making friends, but it was a really small part.

I loved my dream, and I was happy with how far I had come.

I just wanted my business to survive long enough for me to keep going.

There was no telling what the future held, but the six hundred dollars plus a hundo delivery fee was a great start to change the tide. So, I shoved down the doubt trying to creep into my mood and changed into clean clothes, then headed out.

I knew most people would expect me to hire a driver or a delivery service, but if I did that, I’d never be able to afford to deliver. Maybe one day I’d have an employee, but I was pretty far from that milestone for obvious reasons.

The GPS said I was twenty-seven minutes away rather than the twenty-four Cas had said.

I cranked up my tunes and drove very carefully.

It looked like I was going to get there just a little earlier than four, which was what Cas had asked for.

Was it greedy to hope he might tip on top of everything else? Possibly, but a girl could dream.

Thankfully, the drive was without incident or drama.

The biggest snafu was making sure to dodge a couple of potholes that had cropped up due to the multiple freezes and thaws we’d had during the winter.

I was certainly looking forward to later spring and the summer.

Not just for the business. I’d always been a warm-weather girlie.

I wasn’t surprised that I ended up in the country, since Cas had mentioned they were country folk, but what I hadn’t expected was quite how abruptly the city turned into fields and woods.

I was used to driving through more suburbs as a transition, but I supposed that was more to the east than south.

Funny that I could still learn so much about the city I’d lived in since I was five.