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Caleb grumbled, “So much for sharing.”
“I also have Italian rum cake,” Sky told them. “Can’t go wrong there. And chocolate lava cake.”
Reese instantly reached for the chocolate. “This one’s all mine.”
“Well, I’m not gonna complain about being left with the rum cake,” Caleb said before digging in.
No one spoke for several minutes, but there were plenty of moans of pleasure to fill the silence. Sky served coffee while they ate.
When Sam finished his dessert, he settled back in his chair and said, “That was not a slice of pie. That was a slice of heaven.”
“Please,” Reese said on a dreamy sigh. “I’m about to orgasm over chocolate.”
“Joke’s on both of you,” Caleb added. “This rum cake just rocked my world.”
Sky planted a hand on her hip. “No need to flatter me. I already told Reese I’d take the job.”
“Darlin’,” Sam said. “This is not flattery. This is genuine appreciation for your culinary talents. You gushed over what we do at the ranch, and now it’s our turn to admire what you have to offer.”
Took some doing to keep his gaze on her face, rather than let it roam her wickedly delicious body as he thought about what else she might have to offer.
Though, dammit, he needed to keep his libido out of this. He had way too much work to do to be distracted by the fiery redhead.
Reese said, “Whatever little insecurity you had about not being able to make desserts for the inn had better fly from your head right here and right now.”
“Well,” Sky said, “we’ll see how you feel tomorrow night.” She turned on her boot heels and sauntered off, heading back into the dining room.
Sam enjoyed the view of her backside, stifling a groan of unadulterated lust.
Yet again.
Chapter Three
Sky took her mother’s recipe box to the inn the next day. She pulled up a stool at her workstation and flipped through the index cards covered with neat penmanship. It was Friday, and the reservations for the evening weren’t overwhelming. Reese had tallied a count of seventeen people thus far, and had indicated the dining room tended to get a few walk-ins on the weekend nights. Seemed fine dining hadn’t quite caught on in Wilder.
Sky’s first stint as a pastry chef the previous evening had been a slow one, what with only a family of four to bake for, along with Reese, Sam and Caleb—and the inn’s staff, since she was making full cakes and pies. Might as well collect as many reviews as possible, she’d deduced. Thankfully, they’d all been positive ones. But this evening would be a bit more challenging.
She also knew that as word of the inn’s opening spread, there’d be more and more reservations in the book and she’d have to step up her repertoire.
So she needed to dive in and start perfecting some recipes to keep the dessert menu fresh, flavorful and, God willing, fantastic.
She studied the card for her mom’s renowned salty caramel ice cream—homemade ice cream, no less—and nodded. Excellent choice. Then she decided on a staple, tiramisu, and one of her own classics, strawberry-mousse cake with white-chocolate ganache.
All three were hits.
Sam devoured one of each after dinner with Reese and Caleb, and then told her, “I’m willing to be your taste tester. Gonna have to put in a few extra workouts during the week to compensate for the calories, but it’s a sacrifice I’ll gladly make.”
She smiled. “Nice to know you’re so dedicated to the cause. I’d hate to let Reese down with mediocre desserts.”
“My stomach’s all y
ours, darlin’.”
“Fearless of you, since you have no idea what experimental confection I might screw up.”
He said, “If you’re gonna take one for the team, this is the way to do it.”
She found him incredibly charming. Not to mention so freakin’ hot. A few beads of perspiration broke out at the nape of her neck when her gaze dropped to his ripped abs, outlined against his navy-colored T-shirt as he stretched languidly. It’d take years and years for that man to get doughy even if he ate three desserts a night.
