Page 23 of Suddenly Yours

I laughed now, remembering the mess he’d made. “You made it even worse than it was.”

“And yet”—he lifted a piping bag, testing the weight—“here I am. Trying to redeem myself all these years later.”

I laughed again, the last of my tension loosening. Maybe I’d needed that more than I realized. Needed my best friend.

“Unless you don’t want the help…” He turned as if to leave.

I stopped him by grabbing the sleeve of his flannel. The soft fabric was warm from his arm.

“Stay. These are all supposed to get an assortment of spring flowers on them, but you can help me frost the base colors.”

He smiled, one of those slow, crooked smiles that always managed to trip my stomach, and then he followed me to the table. I slid two bowls in front of him: one filled with pale pink frosting, the other creamy white.

“What is a base color?” he said looking at all the cupcakes. “And most importantly, are any of these available to be consumed?”

I chuckled, pulling out a sheet of wax paper. “You can have one.” I lifted a finger. “After you do the work. You have to earn your pay.” He nodded. “Second, base frosting techniques are very simple. You swirl the frosting on, like this…” I demonstrated a quick spiral of white onto a bare cupcake. “Then we put them in the cooler for thirty minutes. This tray is already cooled,” I took a chilled one and set the other down on the tray in its place to be chilled. “Now this is the fun part, you flip.”

“Flip,” he repeated. “Like an acrobat?”

“Like a baker,” I corrected, fighting a grin.

I pressed the chilled frosted cupcake gently onto the wax sheet, twisting just enough to flatten the swirl into a smooth, level flat surface. After letting it set for a moment to settle, I lifted it, now the frosting was perfectly even and ready for me to create the delicate piped flowers I had in mind.

Cade let out a low whistle. “That’s… shockingly satisfying.”

“It is,” I admitted with a grin. “Think of it like spackling holes in walls, but with sugar.”

He turned and grinned at me. “You really know how to speak to my soul.”

I laughed. “First, however, wash your hands.” I waited while he walked over to the sink, scrubbed them clean, then dried them. Then I handed him a frosting knife. “Okay. Now it’s your turn. Take a chilled cupcake off the tray and replace it with a newly frosted cupcake. Try not to embarrass yourself.” I nudged his shoulder with mine.

“Oh, Miss Baker Extraordinaire,” he said, adjusting his stance like he was preparing for combat. “I was born for this moment.”

He took too much frosting and dropped it on the cupcake in a massive blob, which splattered onto the table.

I choked on a laugh. “Born for it, huh?”

He side-eyed me. “It’s abstract art.”

“Mm-hmm. Now flatten it,” I said after he removed half of the frosting.

He pressed the cupcake onto the wax paper with dramatic precision, like he was performing surgery, and when he lifted it, the frosting was… surprisingly decent.

“See?” he said proudly. “I’m a natural.”

“A natural disaster,” I muttered under my breath.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re doing great. Only a hundred more to go.” I slapped him on the shoulder, then walked to the end of the table.

We fell into a rhythm, him dolloping and flattening frosting, me organizing the colors for the flowers I’d pipe next: lilac purples, soft yellows, bright greens for leaves. Every so often, our hands brushed as we reached for the same tool or swapped trays, and each time a jolt of something warm flickered through me like a bolt of lightning.

Cade worked with an intensity that would’ve been hilarious if it wasn’t so adorable. His brow furrowed, his jaw was set with deep concentration.

He looked more like he was taking a hard test than putting frosting on cupcakes.

“You know,” he said slowly, examining a cupcake like it was a crime scene, “I think this one might be my masterpiece.”