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I handed him a pair of gloves and pointed him at the sinks that ran along one wall. He rolled a cart full of dirty dishes over and began scrubbing while I moved to help Emily with the cookies.

Her baseball cookies were snowy white with crisp red stitching, just like our bakery logo. The miniature Carter cookies had a lot more detail and were taking double the amount of time, which we didn’t have. I was disappointed at the idea of not having the Carter cookies, but more was better right now.

“These look perfect. Maybe just do the baseballs? We need as many as you can make.”

Emily put her piping bag down long enough to flex her fingers. “I was thinking about that. I have almost all the existing cookies done. If I spend a couple hours making transfers, they would be dry by morning, then all I have to do tomorrow is a base flood and apply the transfer. That way we get the Carter cookies, but we don’t have to wait for everything to dry before we add the finishing details. If I make enough, we should have supplies for the weekend.”

I was chagrined for not thinking of this myself. I was being pulled in so many directions, trying to stay on top of everything, that I was missing things.

“And this is why I hired you. You’re brilliant. You work on the transfers, I’ll bake. Once I get everything in the oven, I’ll make cake pops. We might get out of here before midnight after all.”

Emily high-fived me and went back to work on the cookies while I pulled pans out of the oven to cool. The cooling rack was directly opposite the sink, and every time I put a tray onto the rack, I had the perfect view of Carter.

He’d stripped off his button-down, revealing a plain grey T-shirt that clung to him like a second skin. Every time he lifted a new stack of dirty dishes into the sink, his muscles flexed, straining against the fabric. It took all my willpower to turn away and concentrate on the cookies. He was a huge help, while still being a delicious distraction.

I stacked another batch of dirty dishes beside the sink and tried not to notice how my body brushed against Carter every time I had to move past him. Each touch, each glance, drove my temperature higher.

In two hours, I surveyed the kitchen, exhausted but satisfied. I had baked nearly a thousand cookie blanks, and they were waiting to be flooded. Hundreds of cupcakes sat on racks, waiting to be decorated in the morning. Emily had piped as many transfers as she could, stopping only to make more icing when she ran out. They were now covering almost every flat surface to dry.

Once Carter finished most of the dishes, Ethan had taught him to mold cake pops. I hid my smile as his first few were wonky and misshapen, but soon he was molding cake pops like a pro. I still couldn’t believe he was here with us, elbow deep in sugar, and actually looked like he was having fun. He was laughing and joking with Ethan, but I’d also caught him watching me more than once, his eyes burning with something hotter than friendship.

In the morning we would finish decorating and get everything packaged before the late-afternoon game. We might even have enough stock for Sunday, so we wouldn’t have to panic bake after the game ended.

Emily clenched and unclenched her hands, trying to work the cramps out of them after piping for hours. “I’m sorry to leave you with a mess, but I’ve got somewhere I need to be. I’ll make it up to you?”

“Go.” I pointed at the door. We had achieved far more than I had thought possible in the time we’d been here. “You went above and beyond today. I’ve got this.”

Emily would get overtime for her extra hours today, but she also more than deserved to take off and relax before we had another full day tomorrow.

“Can I go with her, Mom? Sarah and I want to watch a movie after she’s done babysitting. Emily said she’d drop me off.”

I looked around the kitchen. Dishes had piled up again while Carter was making cake pops, and I had some prep to do before leaving. I could use Ethan’s help—but this bakery was my dream, not his. “Sure, go ahead. I’ve got this.”

“I’ll stay and help,” Carter said. I appreciated his offer, but he’d already done so much. He had a game to get ready for.

Ethan whooped, tossing his apron in the laundry hamper by the back door before he ran out, with Emily on his heels.

“You don’t have to stay.”

Considering how much Carter had already done for me, I didn’t think he would listen, but I had to try. When we were all working in the kitchen, with both Ethan and Emily here as a buffer, I had been able to ignore my body’s reaction to him. Now all I could think about was how his muscles had rippled underneath the fabric of his T-shirt as he’d worked, and how I’d wanted to trace those ripples with my fingers . . . and my tongue.

I needed to remember that kissing Carter Cook was a bad idea and concentrate on my business. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. And I didn’t want him to move out. Chad’s parents were still hinting that he had no place to stay. If Carter left, the hints would get a lot more insistent.

Carter ignored me and rolled the cart around the kitchen, collecting dirty dishes. “What else needs to be done besides washing up?”

He reached past me to grab the bowls sitting behind me. His bare arms brushed against me, sending sparks across my skin. Get a grip, Jane.

“I need to make sure I didn’t miss any cake orders for the morning. Then I have to check my inventory in case we’re running short of any ingredients we need.”

I moved to the back corner of the kitchen, where I had a makeshift office—really just a desk in the corner, but it was a place to plug in my laptop and keep paperwork until I took it home to reconcile properly. A scan of our ordering software told me I hadn’t missed anything. Our next custom cake order was in the middle of next week. I had time. As long as we had enough product for the ballpark and my storefront, I was safe.

The storefront was closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, which would give me time to catch up. I sighed. I could do this.

I pretended not to notice the way Carter was watching me. Now that we were alone, the atmosphere had shifted between us. I was as much to blame as Carter, no longer able to ignore how sexy he was. The bigger problem was he was reciprocating. It would have been easier to keep pretending if he wasn’t watching me like I was his next snack.

I refocused on what was left to be done. Next up was inventory. The shelves in my storeroom were filled with flour and sugar, although I was running low on the chocolate I used in my cakes. I could pick that up on Monday from a local supplier.

The last thing was to check the cooler and set out enough butter to soften overnight. We had received a delivery this morning of fresh butter, eggs, and dairy products. Even with the increase in product required at the ballpark, we had plenty of supplies.