He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. I don’t want to lie to you. Ever. That day I saw the catalog on your desk, I noticed which one seemed to be your favorite. Then when your old oven went kaput, I bought this one for you.”
Robin was aware that her mouth had dropped open. She stared at him, a roaring in her ears. “You bought me an oven?” Even after she had rejected him, the man had bought her an oven?
“You needed it.” He spread his hands wide. “What you do here is art. I couldn’t let you continue creating without the best tools.”
“You bought me an oven?” She tried to get her mouth to say something else, but her brain wouldn’t cooperate.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Not at all. This is—” She ran a hand through her hair. “At the risk of sounding trite, this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. No one has ever believed in me this much.”
“I think what you do is amazing.” He took off his jacket and laid it on the counter. Underneath his jacket he wore a white Henley. The water droplets still twinkled in his hair. He met her eyes, his green ones intense. “I think you are amazing. I know I shouldn’t say stuff like that—just friends and everything. But, as your friend, I think you’re incredible.”
He thought she was incredible? Except, “Wait. I thought you were broke.”
He lifted one shoulder, let it drop. “I came into some money and wanted to put it to good use.” He gestured at the oven. “Yeah, I’d hoped to be anonymous because I didn’t want you to feel like you had to give anything in return or that I was pressuring you somehow. But I also will never lie to you.”
All her reasons for avoiding a relationship faded in the light of that level of support. Her mind shuffled through what she knew of Sammy. He was kind, thoughtful, and obviously generous.
She was falling for him. Hard.
She crossed the few steps to him and laid her hand on his arm, his Henley rough under her fingertips. “So, what—you think you’re my own personal hero?”
“Maybe. If you let me.” His eyes held a question.
Her mouth dried. She tried to swallow and failed.
“Right.” Sammy clapped his hands together, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “What are we baking today?”
She blinked. Tried to come back to the moment. “Um, brioche?” Plus she had to start making a plan for the cakes she’d need to make over the weekend. The Adamses’ party was Sunday, and the Lindstrom wedding a mere two days after that.
“Don’t ask me, I’m just the assistant.” Sammy half shrugged. He went to the sink and washed up. “Just point me to a recipe and some ingredients. I’m all yours for the next few hours.”
Robin showed him how to mix the dough for the sweet brioche. After it rose she would show him how to braid ropy strands of the dough into a long oval loaf. Some of the dough she would turn into chocolate-filled buns.
Meanwhile, she got to work on starting what she needed for the baguettes. She imagined baking them in the new oven and their crispy crusts when she pulled them out.
An alarm blared.
Robin jumped and looked around in confusion.
“I think your oven is telling you it’s preheated.” Sammy’s slow drawl stopped just short of being a tease. He gestured with his chin toward the digital display.
Readyscrolled in red across the top oven. Robin put a hand to her chest. “I think I’m going to need to check the manual. Surely there’s a way we can turn that down.”
“Do you want to try it out? Do you have anything you can bake right now?”
“Um,of courseI want to try it out.” She walked to the rack where she had a few simple loaves of white bread proofing. “I’ve been sticking to simple since you replaced the heating element in Grandma’s oven. I didn’t know if I would have to take anything back to the house to bake.” It seemed a shame for the inaugural bake in this amazing oven to be something so simple as a sandwich loaf.
“I hope today you can pay me in bread instead of cupcakes, because those loaves are works of art.”
Yeah, right. “Sammy. These are just normal loaves of bread.” She hadn’t even carved anything into the top to make a pattern as they baked. “There’s nothing special about them.” But she had felt a certain kinship with her grandma as she’d shaped each loaf. Maybe bread could be satisfying.
“I guess it’s all in how you look at them,” Sammy said. “To me they are amazing because I wouldn’t even know where to begin. You created them from a little flour, water, and yeast. Amazing.”
His words sank deep. To be seen by Sammy sent a tingle down her spine.
I’m all yours…Sure, he’d meant he was available to help her bake. But what if it could turn into something more?
