“I agree,” he said calmly, his hand still on my shoulder, only now it was kneading it. I had observed Brady knead bread thousands of times, and now I understood why his loaves were always the best in the case. His hands were magic. “It’s taking more raw ingredients to get the job done, though. My job is to tell you what we have, and that’s what I did. We have enough for two days of our usual items, but that’s it.”
“Two days?” I asked incredulously. “What I ordered last time should have lasted another week, at least.”
“Not when we’re selling out of our product every day. That’s not even taking the special orders into account. Business is booming, and it’s time to readjust our plan.”
A breath escaped my lips. “You mean it’s time I start paying attention and stop burying my head in the cupcake batter.”
He shook his head, his hair shifting under his hat like it always does. I knew the locks were soft and silky because I once had to use his hair to catch myself from falling off a ladder. He probably didn’t appreciate having chocolate cake batter in his hair for the rest of the day, but all he said was he was glad I didn’t fall and get hurt.
“That’s not what you’re doing. You’re trying to stay afloat with all that cupcake batter, and you don’t have time to micromanage everyone else’s job the way you used to. It’s time to take the training wheels off and let me ride,” he said, his long lashes sweeping across his cheek when he winked at me.
Amber probably heard me sigh with girly pleasure all the way out in the main bakery. Dammit, I hate myself right now. Why do I let those thoughts even wander through my head?
“You’re right. I hate that you’re right, but that doesn’t change the truth. Do you want to take over the ordering?”
Brady’s brow went up in surprise. “Completely?”
“For the most part,” I agreed with a nod. “You’re the kitchen manager, so you’re already in charge of the cooler. You’ve worked here long enough to know how I do the ordering, too.”
“Sure do,” he agreed with a nod. “I’m not new to this, but I also don’t own the place. I’m not going to step on any toes.”
“That’s a first,” I muttered.
“What was that?” he asked with a smirk, which told me he’d heard exactly what I said.
“Nothing, I was just saying that you’re not stepping on toes if I agree to you taking over the job.”
He rolled his eyes in plain view. “Sure, it totally sounded like that. If I’ve stepped on someone’s toes in the past, tell me now so I can fix it.”
He was so close to me that I could feel his breath on my cheek when he spoke. I rested my hand on his chest unconsciously, but the immediate heat that burned my hand had me pulling it back instantly. If you don’t want to get burned, Haylee, stay out of the kitchen. “You haven’t. Ignore me. I’m tired. Do you want to take over the inventory, or not?”
He nodded once. “Yes.”
“Good. That will help me out. The first few times, we’ll go over the order together before you call it in, and once you feel confident with it, you can do it yourself. Remember, you always have to make sure you have all of the ingredients for the special—”
“Specialty items that we might need at any time,” he finished. My heavy sigh of resignation made Brady chuckle. “I’ve been around the block a few times, cupcake. At some point, you’re going to have to trust me.”
“That’s probably never going to happen, Brady. The Fluffy Cupcake is my business, and I don’t trust it with anyone.”
His finger bopped the tip of my nose, and he winked. “This is yours and Amber’s business, and you trust her to do what needs to be done up front. Trust me to do what needs to be done behind the scenes, so you can keep making all of those delicious treats.”
“We’ll start with the tentative agreement to let you take over the ordering and work up to trust in a few years,” I answered smugly.
Brady’s laugh was long, low, and sexy as hell. I hated that the first place my mind went was to the bedroom—with him in my bed wearing nothing but that chef’s hat.
I cleared my throat and prayed my cheeks weren’t the color of Red Hots. “I’ll need to see that order no later than tomorrow morning if you’re going to do this.”
Brady threw his arm over my shoulders and walked me toward the prep area in the back of the bakery. He lifted an iPad from his prep bench and handed it to me. “Check away, Chef Cupcake.”
My gaze drifted to the iPad, where my order forms were loaded and ready for submission to the company websites. My fingers scrolled through the order forms, and I was more than a little surprised to see he’d even ordered all of the extra ingredients we needed for the special orders that came in today. After a few minutes, I lifted my gaze back to Brady’s.
“You’re my hero,” I whispered, relief filling me that I didn’t need to spend three hours here tonight putting the order together.
All Brady did was wink.
Two
I strolled into my kitchen wearing my Minnesota Twins nightshirt that I’d had since the tenth grade. It was almost paper-thin and had a few chocolate ice cream stains, but nothing else that I owned was as comfortable for a warm summer night. I grasped the handle on the fridge, ready for a glass of wine after a long day, but the red X on the calendar caught my eye again. “You don’t own me,” I whispered, sticking my tongue out at the offending paper.
Unfortunately, that red X did own me. It taunted me, and I regretted having the idea to mark my thirtieth birthday that way. If I’d just left the box empty, I could walk by it forever and pretend it didn’t exist—the same way I’d done for the last twenty-nine years. That was much harder to do when it had a giant red slash through it.
My head fell back until I was staring at the ceiling. I’d been doing this for six months now. The whole point of the red X was to motivate me to make time for a personal life. The last eight years my sole focus had been on the business and it was time to change that. It was time to find my soulmate. I’d dated with gusto since January second, but so far, I’d struck out. All of the guys I’d dated thus far could barely tie their shoes.
There’d been Tim who had significant commitment issues to the point he couldn’t decide if he wanted chicken or beef tacos. Then there was Shawn, who spilled his beans on my pants and spent the rest of the date telling people I’d pooped myself. Most would think that date would hold up in the record books as the worst, but they hadn’t met Jerry yet.
I shuddered and blocked him from my mind. All the guys I dated this year taught me one thing. Sometimes, a vibrator is all a girl needs to mind her business. “Alexa,” I said, waiting for the voice to fill the small apartment.
“What can I help you with today, Henlee?”
I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt my brain. I’d given up on getting her to say my name correctly after the first year. “Add a new calendar to the shopping list.”
“I’m sorry, Henlee, you previously added a calendar to your list of not allowed items. Would you like me to remove it from that list?”