“I was hoping you’d say that.” Sammy stood up and brushed off his knees. “Be right back.”
Robin set the pen down and pushed at a loose board with her toe. Why couldn’t the pipe have sprung its leak when she’d been safely in Paris? She heard the front door open and close. Then open and close again. Then a “Whoa!” from Bella, and the kitchen door swung open.
“You should get a doorstop for that thing.” Sammy walked in carrying a large box. “It would make my job so much easier if I didn’t have to keep running into it.” He nudged her shoulder with his own, a playful look in his eyes.
Heat shot down that arm.
“What in the world is in that box? Or better yet, how did you fit all this stuff on your bike? Are you Superman? Please tell me you’re Superman.”
He tipped his head back and laughed. “Practice. I fit it on my bike with practice. That and lots of straps.”
She joined his laughter. “And in the box?”
He set the box on the floor and lifted out a 12x12-inch tile. “Seth had some tile left over from a job. I thought they would be perfect in here.”
Her mouth dropped open. Red and cream swirls marbled the tile—a perfect match to the existing colors already in the Fox Bakery. Sammy wasn’t wrong. The understated tile would enhance the look of the kitchen.
He moved a slip of cardboard aside in the box. “And the pièce de résistance…”
“Look at you, speaking French.”
“Oui, oui, mademoiselle.” He hesitated before pulling the tile out of the box. “Close your eyes.”
Normally, she would never take the risk of closing her eyes—too many chances for failure—but she trusted Sammy, so Robin obeyed. She felt something smooth and heavy in her hands. She opened her eyes and looked down.
A tile, cream and red with a stylized fox scampering through a crimson forest, rested in her hands. She raised her eyes to Sammy’s. His face was inches away.
“There’s no way Grandma Elaine can argue with that tile,” he said in a whisper. “It deserves a place in her bakery kitchen.”
“It’s perfect.” She hugged the tile to her chest. “I never knew a person could fall in love with a tile.”
“Seth had a whole set of woodland creatures.” He leaned away from her, his normal voice returning. “He said he gets all kinds of orders for them up here for people’s cabins and whatever. Anyway, I think if we do a grid about five tiles wide and three tiles deep, it should cover the area under the sink. That tile you are clutching will have a prominent place in the middle.”
She found her throat was clogged and just settled on a nod.
“Of course, I am going to have to insist on payment.”
Her heart thumped. Crashed.
Great. More bills she couldn’t pay. Add it to the growing list. “Of course. I’d never ask you to do it for free. And these tiles must have cost a fortune.” Out in the dining room, the cash register dinged a sale. Or maybe that was just a ringing in her ears. “What is your hourly wage?” She saw dollar signs, and her chest tightened.
“A cupcake an hour.”
Wait. “What? No. I want to pay you money. Real money.” She crossed her arms. “I insist.”
He crossed his arms, mirroring her. “I can get money anywhere. What I can’t get out in that cold, cruel world is a dozen of your caramel mocha creme cupcakes.” He threw his arm wide. “I insist. It’s cupcakes or nothing.”
She laughed and put her hand on his bicep. Cupcakes were something she could do. “Fine. It’s a deal. One cupcake for every hour worked. Keep track of your time, and I’ll pay you at the end of the job.”
“I may have to work extra slow.” Then the man had the nerve to wink at her.
Something warm and inviting curled through her like the first bite of a caramel-covered sticky bun. Heat rose in her cheeks. “I’ll have to keep my eye on you, Johnson.”
His slow smile turned the warm thing into an inferno.
Her cell phone cut through the charged silence, and she dug it out of her pocket. Megan Barrett’s name flashed up on the screen. “Hi, Megan,” she said, moving a step away from Sammy and back toward sanity.
On the other end, a rustling sound preceded her friend’s voice. “Hi, Robin. Sorry, I’m just getting Baby Rae settled. Okay. I’m back.”
