“You’re not the first man to say that to me,” I purred with a wink.
He reached out for a roll, and I batted his hand away. “No touching, buddy.”
“Somehow, I doubt I’m the first man you’ve saidthatto either.”
I smiled innocently. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Hopper, there’s a pan of rolls for us over by the coffeepot,” Mom said as she pushed up from the table. “Noel made a smaller batch just for us. Isn’t that sweet?”
“It sure is,” Hopper said, holding my eye as Mom headed for the back door with an eager Cinnamon at her heels. “Noel is the sweetest.”
Somehow, the power I’d held over him last night, when I caught him in nothing but a towel, was gone.
But that wouldn’t do. I was the one who should be in control.
“How did you sleep, Hopper? When I saw you last night, you seemed a little…tense.”
Hopper chuckled, moving past me to pick up a cinnamon roll that was already cooled and frosted.
“I slept really well, actually,” Hopper said. “Thanks for the tip last night. It was just what I needed.”
Oh, he was playing with fire, wasn’t he?
He took a bite of the roll, moaning with pleasure. “Damn, this is incredible.”
“Not the first man to tell methateither,” I teased.
“Oh, it was rude of me not to ask.” He raised an eyebrow. “How didyousleep, Noel? Did you take your own advice?”
I scowled, annoyed that he was so good at this game. Who had taught Hopper Kelly to flirt so well? Scratch that. I didn’t want to know. As far as I was concerned, Hopper was as untouched as the season’s first snow.
“No,” I said. “I had baking to do.”
“Ah, right. The baking. You got a lot done.”
“Not enough,” I said with a sigh. “I would have had four dozen rolls, but baking isn’t my specialty. I screwed up my first batch of dough.”
He eyed the batches of cinnamon rolls already packaged up for sale in the shop. “So this is your idea of a failure, huh? Damn. You must be a hell of a chef.”
My stomach fluttered at the compliment. “I do okay.”
“More than okay,” Mom said, returning from letting Cinnamon outside. “You’re a head chef! We’re so proud of you, honey.”
“We sure are,” Dad said as he shuffled into the kitchen and took a seat. “Hopper, you mind bringing me one of those delicious cinnamon rolls?”
“Oh, that’s a lot of sugar and butter,” Mom said with concern.
Dad shook his head. “I don’t care. I woke to the most heavenly smell, and I have to have one. If it kills me, then I’ll die a happy man.”
She sighed. “Fine. It’s your funeral.”
“That’s right.Mine.I’ll decide when I kick it, thank you very much.”
Hopper plated up a second cinnamon roll and took it over to my dad. “I doubt one cinnamon roll will kill you, Ed.” He cast a look at Mom. “But if it does, you better stay dead, or Maggie’s likely to kill you again.”
Dad chuckled and lifted the cinnamon roll to take a big bite. “Damn, I was wrong. I’m already dead, and this is heaven.”
“Noel’s an angel, then,” Mom said.
