"I've never made that before. I'm intrigued." She leaned over his shoulder as she studied the recipe. "Do you mind if I copy this down so I can practice it this week?"
"Go ahead. My brothers and I tried making that one for her once. But that's a story for another day." He couldn't handle the emotion of sharing that one now. After handing over the card, he walked the length of the room and stopped by a grouping of photos taped to the wall. In one picture, a woman stood with her arms around a younger Katie and Ashley. "This is your mom?"
"Yeah." The word was immediate and wistful. She joined him. Her smile was a shade too sad. "It was taken on Mother's Day the year before she got diagnosed."
"You miss her a lot."
"So much."
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "I miss mine, too. Especially at important moments, like tonight with my brother's engagement cake. Or back when I played my first game for the Frenzy. Or when Leo's team won the hockey championship last year. Or when he got married last summer."
"Holidays are hard too. Like today. I thought having us meet today would be a good way to take my mind off of not having my mom here, but it hasn't worked so well."
"I'm sorry. I can't say that it gets easier as the years go by. It's more like the grief changes."
She nodded. "That's what the grief counselor told me. But it's even the everyday stuff. I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to pick up the phone and call her, only to remember I can't. Or something happens and she's the first person I want to tell. Even just being here every day is hard. Memories are everywhere." Her voice broke, and she cast a helpless glance around the room.
Eyes stinging, he drew her against his chest. His childhood home had been the same, constant reminders of a deeply missed presence. "I know."
Her arms held him tight for one long moment, and then she slowly stepped away. Rubbing her arms, she leaned against the counter. "It's silly, and I was entirely too old for this, but when she was first diagnosed, I thought that if I wished and hoped hard enough that she would get better."
"I can sympathize. When my mom got cancer, I thought that if I was good enough, she'd get better. Ryan was only a baby, but Leo and Shane and I tried really hard. We didn't fight, we didn't get into trouble. Well, not much anyway. We did all of our homework and were on our best behavior. But it didn't work." Caught up in his memories, he fought for control. He never shared so openly.
She laid her hand on top of his. "I can't even imagine what it was like to lose her when you were so young."
"It sucked. My brothers and I banded together back then, and we've pretty much stayed that way. That's not to say that we didn't have disagreements, but we saw how hard my dad was working to keep us together, even when he was wallowing in his own grief. I don't know how he did it."
"The experience made you closer. Katie and I are definitely closer now because we had to lean on each other so much."
At that moment, he felt closer to her than he'd ever felt to anyone outside of his brothers and dad. United in pain and in heartache, they understood each other.
She had a sweetness, a vulnerability, and an inner strength that made him think of a combination of romantic princess and badass warrior. Much like the treats she baked, he wanted more. To keep delving for a richer flavor, a deeper taste, to continue exploring until he knew all. And then, to start all over again.
Surrounded by cakes and sinful scents, he watched and waited. She'd held him back once, so she needed to be the one to make the next move.
His pulse thudded with desire. That golden gaze bewitched him. As much as he'd told himself that getting involved with her wasn't smart while they were working together, he couldn't deny the connection and chemistry they shared. The intention to stay strictly professional fell away.
Ashley closed the space between them. She still held his hand. Raising onto her toes, she wound her other arm around his neck and drew him down.
Hands framing her face, he bent, inching closer, watching her eyes close and her full lips part. Still, he paused, a breath away, and let her initiate the kiss.
Petal soft lips brushed against his mouth. Her curves pressed into his torso. He wanted to devour but kept his hands gentle. She was someone to be savored.
With a low moan, he deepened the kiss and sought out more sweetness from her mouth. She tasted like frosting and magic and possibilities.
Her nails scraped over his neck, stoking the fire in his blood. He could kiss her for hours, days, forever.
When breathing became necessary, he lightened the kiss.
Ashley's lips curved into a smile. "Ready to start on the cookies?"
Switching focus to what they were supposed to be doing. Right. He shoved a hand through his hair and attempted to get a hold of himself. "Sure."
She pressed the recipe card to his chest. "Come on, I'll show you where I keep everything."
They spent the next hour going over how to separate eggs and whip egg whites and cream butter. How to measure flour and the right way to fold in ingredients. They covered all of the things on Ryan's flashcards. It was playful and flirty and fun. More fun than he'd had in a long while.
She finished preparing the cookie sheets and then set the bowl of dough between them. "Now for the fun part. We get to play with the dough. For these cookies, instead of using a cookie scoop, you roll them by hand.
