“There has to be some old grandma who can make a mean macaroon,” Landon said when he got back to town and Gray told him about the trouble. “Or can you teach someone?”
Gray sighed, “The problem is, none of the old grandmas around here need jobs. And macaroons aren’t exactly my specialty either.”
“Seriously. Get a few of the old biddies,” Landon advised. “Get them to teach some young ones. They don’t even have to cook on the premises if transportation is an issue.”
“If you think it will work, I’ll try it.”
But the next person who came in for an interview was as far from an old biddie as Gray had ever seen. Landon looked equally surprised when Ana Monroe walked in, her resume in hand.
“You said she came from New Canton Retirement,” Gray murmured, taking in the slim blond who couldn’t have been a day over thirty.
Clearly overhearing them, she turned her large blue eyes to him and said, “I said I saw the ad at New Canton Retirement.” She brandished it at them now. “It didn’t say there was a minimum age requirement.” She frowned. “I’m not sure it’s legal if there is.”
“Anything is legal with the right lawyers,” Landon assured her.
“But,” Gray added hastily, “there isn’t an age requirement. We just assumed.”
“Oh,” she paused. “You know what they say about assumptions.”
“No,” Landon said pleasantly. “What do they say?”
Ana considered him for a long moment, and then thought better of explaining. “So is the job still open or did Thelma from assisted-living beat me to it?”
“It’s still open,” Gray said, and gestured toward the far booth where they’d been conducting interviews. “Please, sit down. Can I get you anything to drink?”
Gray got them all a round of sodas and came back to find Ana and Landon in a stare off.
“Baking science,” Landon was saying in a tone of patronizing amusement.
“Yes,” Ana said tightly. “With a bread and pastry emphasis.”
“That sounds great,” Gray said, and shot Landon a warning look, trying to communicate with his eyes that as long as Ana knew the difference between phyllo dough and puff pastry, she was going to get the job.
He scanned Ana’s resume and frowned. “Where is your previous experience?”
Ana shifted. “I don’t have any.”
“You went to the Kitchen Academy for fun?”
“I went because I like baking,” Ana said. “But I had a job.”
“As what?”
“This and that.”
Landon met Gray’s eyes. “I’m not sure you understand how interviews work, Ana. It makes me wonder if you really had a job.”
More gently, Gray asked, “Can you be more specific?”
Ana blew out her breath and spoke in a rapid monotone. “I was a card girl for the UFC, I did some fashion modeling, I was a briefcase girl on Deal or No Deal—”
“Okay,” Gray surmised. “But no actual baking experience beyond the Kitchen Academy?”
Ana shook her head.
“How about this,” Gray said, coming to a quick decision. “Come back tomorrow around 5. I’ll have the ingredients for chocolate eclairs. If you can make them, you’re hired.”
“If you can make them edible,” Landon stipulated.
“They’re going to blow your mind,” Ana said, and stood up. She held her hand out for Gray’s and shook it firmly. “It’s a deal.”
“Or no deal,” Landon couldn’t resist saying.
On their first day back in New Canton, Kaitlyn and Marjorie spent the majority of the day at Gray’s apartment, taking advantage of the beautiful quartz countertops for the food prep photography.
“I can’t believe you let us waste time in the kitchen when you had this palace up your sleeve,” Marjorie said, spreading her arms from one end of the island to the other in a one-sided embrace.
“It’s Landon’s palace,” Kaitlyn reminded her, putting the grocery bags full of ingredients on the opposite counter. “And I’m warning you, working the coffee maker requires a degree in mechanical engineering.”
Coming up from the island, Marjorie walked first to the large picture window, then into the bedroom. “Wow,” she said. “You gave all this up on principle?”
“You’d have done the same thing.”
Marjorie shrugged. “Maybe.” Then she walked into the bathroom and called, “No, definitely not.” Popping her head out at Kait, she asked, “Can I take a shower here?”
“We have a perfectly good shower, Marjorie!”
“But I’ve never had been in a shower that had a rainfall showerhead,” Marjorie said mournfully. “Like, ever.”
“Tell you what,” Kaitlyn said walking over and pulling her friend out by the arm. “I’ll buy a watering can on our way home tonight and pour it over you.”
“Maybe you should save that move for Landon.” Marjorie laughed and went to work. “If Gray were my type, I’d seduce him just for a chance to use that shower.”
“Isn’t he?” Kait had been secretly hoping that her best friend and brother would fall madly in love, but so far, their energy had been yawn-inducingly platonic. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I just prefer them”—Marjorie thought about it—“brawnier.”
“Brawnier,” Kaitlyn repeated. “Like, the paper towel man?”
“Exactly like the paper towel man.” Marjorie shivered. “That lantern jaw, the plaid shirt, the broad shoulders. God, I’m going to need a shower if we keep talking about this.”
Kaitlyn laughed. “You can’t be serious. Gray might not be a bodybuilder, but his jaw is pretty good. And I’m sure he has a plaid shirt somewhere in his closet.”
“His face is just like yours.” Marjorie pinched her chin playfully. “Classic, elegant, aristocratic even.”
“That’s ironic,” Kaitlyn snorted.
“What I’m saying is, he’s a beautiful man, no doubt about it. But I want someone—”
“On a paper towel.”
“—brawnier.”
“Okay.” Kaitlyn rolled her eyes. “I guess I can’t judge you. I want someone whose family ran mine out of town and who cheats on his supermodel girlfriend.”
“Would we say Simone is his girlfriend?” Marjorie murmured, seeing an opening. “I got the impression they were more good friends who hooked up.”
“Do you bring your hook ups to your hometown to meet your mom?”
“If we were friends foremost and hooking up second, sure.”
“I’d have to be
