Best of My Love (Fool's Gold, #20)

“Of course.”


She turned the key over in her hand, then stepped forward. The lock turned easily. There was an alarm system and usually she would enter the bakery from the rear door, but this one time, she would start at the front and work her way back.

Directly in front of her were the cases that held the baked goods. They’d been cleaned and there was new shelving. A half-dozen bistro tables with matching chairs gave people a place to sit. There was a new coffee station on the right. She wasn’t interested in competing with Brew-haha, but had needed more than the single pot she’d had before.

She knew what was behind the counter. Racks and the cold cases. Beyond that was the old kitchen. The only change had been to add two more mixers and shelving. The real magic had happened on the other side.

She turned to her left and saw open French doors. When the tea shop was open, they would be as well. When the tea shop was closed, she could lock the doors, while preserving the sense of openness.

They walked through the small restaurant. She’d had the walls painted white. Several hutches and two buffets, all in dark wood, were spaced around the edges of the room.

There were only ten tables—most seating four, but a few could hold six. Stacks of linens sat on a side table, along with teapots still in their boxes. The tablecloths were also white, but the place mats were in a rainbow of colors. The napkins were of a similar hue, but complemented rather than matched.

She and Aidan had used an online auction site to buy several incomplete sets of china. It was amazing how much she’d been able to save by purchasing a set with six plates, but eight bowls and no side plates. Now the mismatched dishes added color and elegance to the simple decor.

Boxes of glasses, flatware and vases were ready to be put out. The serving pieces had arrived the week before and were in the kitchen. A chalkboard on the wall offered a place to list the specials of the day—whatever they might be.

She led the way into the kitchen. All the appliances gleamed. She had four ovens, an oversized professional stove and refrigerator, and a pantry fit for royalty. Everything was perfect.

For a second she couldn’t believe it had all come together. That she was really that lucky.

“Tell me this isn’t a dream,” she whispered.

Aidan pulled her close. “You made this happen,” he whispered. “I’m so proud of you, Shelby. You’ve done a hell of a job here.”

She smiled up at him. He lowered his head and kissed her. His mouth was warm and firm. He offered as much as he took. She felt the pressure of his fingers, the strength of his body. Wanting began its insistent dance, but she ignored the beat. Instead she leaned her head against his shoulder and breathed in the scent of him.

Not love, she promised herself. Love scared her. Love meant she would be vulnerable. Maybe not physically—because she trusted him—but in every other way possible. This was so much better than love could ever be.

“Ready to get to work?” she asked.

“I am.”

They went back outside and started pulling cartons, bins and bags from the back of his truck. While the bakery was closed until tomorrow and the tea shop wouldn’t open until next week, tonight she was making dinner for friends and family. Sort of a thank-you for all their support.

The menu was simple. An assortment of crostini appetizers, followed by an easy salad with baby heirloom tomatoes and pears. The entrée would be her version of chicken chili verde with bacon cheddar biscuits, followed by chocolate bread pudding parfaits and custom cookies for dessert.

She’d chosen a champagne for a toast and then had gone with a simple selection of beer and wine for dinner. Which had all sounded so sensible when she’d planned it. Now she glanced at the clock and wondered if she’d overestimated her abilities.

“Two hours,” Aidan told her. “Freaking out?”

“A little.”

“Tell me what to do first.”

She’d already made the chicken chili verde, so that was easy. She had him pour it into a giant stockpot.

“Stir that every five minutes,” she told him. “We’re heating it slowly.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He smiled as he spoke. That easy smile that said he was happy to do what she said. That he respected her and trusted her. It was the kind of smile that made her want to step closer and be held by him, but there wasn’t time.

She told him how to prep the salad. The dressing was already made. She stored that in the new, shiny, industrial refrigerator after allowing herself about ten seconds to admire all the space. The desserts were already made. She put the trays into the fridge as well, then got to work on the crostini.