I’m not sure I want to know what prompts the blush on her cheeks.
“Baking-wise, he learned more things from me than the other way around. We met on the set of that competition I was in, and the only reason he got first place was because the final challenge was his specialty. He got lucky. Most of the stuff we sell in the Home Baked bakery are my recipes.”
“So why is he the one who gets to keep the show and stuff now that you’ve split up?”
She huffs in frustration. “That is a good question, Kingston. His name is the one behind the company, so he made the argument that I have no claim, and I was too tired of his crap to fight it.”
Now he really sounds like an idiot, and I think I might understand why she wants to own Kingston’s instead of keeping it under my name. All things considered, she’s been very calm about everything even though it hasn’t been going exactly how she hoped. If it were me, I wouldn’t be able to hide my frustration.
She looks down at the half-full bag in my hands and nods. “Ready to start piping? You’re going to pipe in a circle, starting at the side and working your way to the center, and you’ll want to make them about an inch and a half in diameter without ending with a point in the middle. I would demonstrate for you if I could.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Do one, and I’ll tell you if you’re doing it right.”
“How magnanimous of you.”
“That’s a fun word. Not exactly a surf term, so where’d you pick that one up? A little smaller.”
I furrow my brow, as much in confusion as concentration as I do my best to pipe out the round cookies to her specifications. “You do know I went to college, don’t you?”
“What?” She bumps into my arm so hard that she completely messes up the macaron I was piping. “Why didn’t I know that?”
“Why didn’t you ask?”
“I don’t know. I guess since you’re still working at the surf shack. You said you bought it when you were nineteen!”
I shrug, though it stings to think she wouldn’t expect me to continue my education. I know I’m small-town, but I like to think I have a big life ahead of me. Or, I did before Uncle Bill passed away and made me the last Kingston. Now dreaming of more for my life seems pointless. “The shack is only open part of the year, and Pete still managed it for those first few years while I was going to Charleston Southern. I worked the shop in the afternoons.”
“You still lived in Willow Cove?”
“It wasn’t that long of a drive, and I did half my classes online. I thought about moving to Charleston for the last couple of years, but I liked being around Uncle Bill too much.”
“What did you study?”
“Business.” And I would really like to talk about something that isn’t me. “You know people can have good vocabularies without getting a degree, right? You don’t have a degree, so you should be offended by your own surprise that I would use a word like magnanimous.”
Color floods her face, but she smiles a little, so she’s not entirely embarrassed. She nods to the half-full tray in front of me. “Those aren’t completely terrible.”
“You’re not completely terrible,” I shoot back and then pipe a little circle of macaron batter onto her forehead.
She gasps, mouth gaping open. “I can’t believe you just did that. Especially when I can’t fight back!”
“We can’t have that.” I move in close, which both works to shut her mouth and gets me near enough to reach behind her. Working slowly, I tug loose the apron strings that have held her hands captive behind her back. I’m taking my time both so I can prepare for her counterstrike and because I’ve got a noseful of her intoxicating scent. I could stand here all night. “Never let it be said that I don’t fight fair,” I whisper.
When my fingers brush against Georgie’s hand, she curls her fingers around mine for a brief moment. A gesture of gratitude for freeing her, maybe? Regardless, her touch is as electric as it has been since her return, and I can’t help but close my eyes as I take another deep breath of the smell of her shampoo.
When I open my eyes again, I’m overcome by how beautiful she is. I’ve always thought so, but I must have forgotten how it felt to gaze into those green eyes of hers and see everything. All of her fears and hopes. There were times when I thought I could hear her thoughts just by looking at her, and I’ve either lost the skill or she’s saying there’s a chance she might stay. Please stay.
Georgie grabs the piping bag from my other hand and squeezes it in my direction. The green goop oozes out too slowly and plops onto the floor between our feet. We stare at it for a moment, neither of us saying a word, and then I crack, snorting a chuckle that quickly turns into a full-blown laugh when Georgie starts giggling.
We both have the idea at the same time, our hands flying to the remainder of the batter in the bowl. I’m faster by only a second and manage to get a good slather across Georgie’s face before she’s stuffing a handful of slimy paste down my shirt. Gasping from the cold of it, I instinctively wrap my arms around her to hold her captive, but her messy hand is still free and ends up in my hair.
“That’s it.” Ignoring the shiver of pleasure that runs through me from her touch, I duck down and throw her over my shoulder. “You’re getting blasted.”
Georgie screams as I head for the industrial sink and the spray nozzle that has always felt akin to a fire hydrant with the way it gushes at high speed. “No! Royal! I give up! You win.”
I’m tempted to keep going, but I stop and set her back on her feet because she has never conceded before. But I keep hold of her in case I need to follow through with my threat when she inevitably tries to pull a fast one on me. Still, now that I have a good view of her face again, I can’t hold back my laugh. “You’re a mess.”
She smacks my chest half-heartedly, leaving her hand resting there. “I can’t believe you did that! And you can’t claim that I started it this time.”
No, I can’t, but I’m not finding the will to apologize. Not with the way she’s grinning at me right now. “You mean a faceful of macaron mess wasn’t part of your directions?” Using the heel of my hand, I brush some of the batter from her cheek, but it’s going to take a lot more than that to get her clean.
Despite the pale green mixture all over her skin, her eyes seem to glow beneath the kitchen lights, the most vivid green I’ve ever seen. I don’t know if anything will ever compare to her eyes. Windows to her incredible soul. “You know me better than that, Royal,” she says, leaning closer.
My heart starts pounding beneath her fingers, pushing me forward until my nose brushes hers. “Yeah, I do.” Please stay.
I can almost taste her, but a small voice in the back of my head reminds me there is no one we need to convince right now. If I kiss her now, it’s simply because I want to. And that will make this all so much messier. Maybe she’s thinking the same thing, or maybe my hesitation has communicated something else to her, but it’s Georgie who pulls away first.
“Um,” she says, taking a step back, “we need to let those sit for at least half an hour before we bake them. Maybe longer. But I should probably…”
Her eyes focus on something behind me, and I turn to see Cecily sitting on the counter nearest the door to the lobby. I have no idea how long she’s been there or how much of our interaction she saw, but she’s writing furiously on her iPad and grinning in a way that sends a chill down my spine. I don’t want to know what she thinks she’s learned tonight.
“You should go to bed,” I reluctantly tell Georgie. “I can clean up here.”
Maybe I imagine it, but she seems disappointed. “Are you sure? I can—”
“I’ve got this. You take care of you.” Stay.
“Okay.” She takes a step back and smiles. “Goodnight, Royal.”
That’s not the first time she called me that tonight, and for some reason the name doesn’t bother me. Maybe it’s because right now she feels more like the old Georgie, and in turn I feel more like myself for the first time in a long time.
