He answered her unasked question. “Now the spoon. Gently.”
“Gently what?” She knew he meant stir, but it was high time the man learned she was not a mind reader. Words were free. He could use more.
“Stir the flour into the batter. Gently.”
“Right, got it.” She did exactly that, noticing how the flour wanted to puff up in little clouds if she was too vigorous. Shewatched him. He was doing more of a folding motion. She tried that and found it worked better. “Don’t we need salt?”
He shook his head. “It’s in the butter.”
“So salted butter saves a step?”
“Yup.”
“You should write a cookbook,” she teased. “Brick’s Bare Minimum Recipes.”
That earned her another look and another grunt, but this time she was sure she heard amusement in his tone.
Beau barked once, sharp and insistent, as if agreeing with Blaise. She bent to scratch his head. “You think it’s a good idea, too, don’t you, handsome?”
Brick moved closer to check how she was doing. His arm brushed hers, warm and strong, and Blaise felt her breath hitch in a way she didn’t want to think about too closely. She covered by rambling. “How’s it look? You think it’s all right? Smells kind of coconutty, but since I’ve never made this before?—”
Brick stuck the tip of his finger in the mix and tasted it. He nodded. “Tastes right.”
“That’s good.” She exhaled as he went back to his bowl. “Now what?”
“In the pans.”
They carefully poured their batter in the prepared pans. She did her best to keep the amounts even but Brick seemed to manage it effortlessly. How many times had he made this cake? Once that was done, they put them in the oven. His on the top shelf, hers on the bottom.
She stared in at them after he shut the door. “Now we wait, I guess.”
“Now we make frosting.”
“Oh, right.”
His brows rose as he looked at her side of the counter. “And clean up.”
They did a little of that before they made the frosting, which was more butter, cream cheese, powdered sugar, another dash of extract, and lots of coconut. With that finished, they cleaned up the mess that remained.
He put the ingredients away as she washed and dried the last of her things. “Thanks for your patience.” She shot him a look. “You know, you’re actually a decent teacher, Brick. Longer, more descriptive sentences wouldn’t hurt, but otherwise, decent.”
He started to answer, then stopped, glancing toward the oven where the scent of sugar and coconut was beginning to bloom. Finally, he said quietly, “Patty’s recipe deserves to be shared.”
Something in his tone softened her heart. “I bet your wife would be proud you’re sharing it.”
He didn’t answer, just checked the timer, then looked at her again, that unreadable expression flickering to something softer.
“Cake’ll be ready in thirty,” he said. “More coffee?”
She smiled. “I’d love some.”
Beau gave a tiny bark, as if he’d have a cup, too, and for the first time that afternoon, Brick laughed out loud, a low, rough sound that was the most genuine thing she’d ever heard.
It made her see him in a different light. As more than the gruff Marine who kept watch on his porch so often.
He was a man with a heart. He’d loved deeply. And now it was clear that no matter how much time had passed, he still loved that same woman. His loyalty was undeniably attractive. Blaise was starting to like him more than she’d expected.
Her Jay had been that same kind of loyal. It touched her and made her sympathetic to Brick in a way he probably wouldn’t welcome.
