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“No. But we aren’t sure if the new landlord would let us stay or not. And the one we have now is great. The uncertainty of it is unsettling, that’s all.”
He nodded, his brow furrowed as if deep in thought.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t bore you with this. It’s my issue, and it may not even be an issue at all.” She slid down off the barstool. “I’m going to go check the dough, see how it’s coming.”
*
Wes watched asNoelle poked her head into the freezer. Her entire body, really. It looked as if it could swallow her whole. She’d tried to play off that the potential new landlord wasn’t a big deal, but he could see in her eyes that it was.
As she talked, a knot formed in Wes’s gut. Distracted by all the stuff his dad had him doing, including a Bachelor Bake-Off, he hadn’t had time to really dive into the deal his father had asked him to look at. But he sensed it might have something to do with what Noelle was talking about. And when it came to business deals, Wes’s gut feelings were rarely wrong.
He made a mental note to look more closely at the paperwork his father had given him as soon as possible. He could check on it for Noelle’s sake without her having to know details. Once everything was worked out and she had nothing to worry about, he would tell her. For now, he had baking to do.
“I think we can work with this.” She pulled the dough from the freezer and placed it on the island. “Now we get to do the fun part.”
Her smile lit up the kitchen. It also was doing funny things to his insides. Something he’d have to address at some point. Having feelings for Noelle was not a good idea and certainly not in his plan. Getting close to her would only cause heartache once he went back to New York.
“Come here.”
He slid from the barstool and joined her at the counter. “Do I need my apron again?”
She laughed. “Only if you want to.”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
“Spoilsport. You’ll have to wear one in the competition. You might as well get used to it now.”
Yet another reason to not be happy with his father.
“You’ll be fine. I’m sure you’ve been asked to do worse in your lifetime.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
She laughed again.
She taught him how to mix cinnamon and sugar together in a bowl. Then she had him roll the dough into little balls. They rolled each one in the cinnamon and sugar mixture, which somehow managed to get all over his shirt.
Noelle looked at his chest then into his eyes. “Told ya. Aprons are a good idea.”
His toes tingled at how she’d eyed his chest then looked at him with a flirty grin. Man, he was in trouble. “Never. I stand my ground.”
She rolled a ball of dough between her hands, the movement much more graceful than when he did it. “I’m not surprised.”
“Hmmmm, now what does that mean?”
One of her shoulders lifted then fell. “Nothing. You just seem like a man who stands his ground. A lot.”
He rolled the dough in his hands then in the sugary mixture before placing it on the cookie sheet in front of them as she’d taught him. They’d gotten into a rhythm of rolling dough, then rolling each ball of dough in the sugar bowl, then placing it on the cookie sheet. He liked the flow of it, the feel of her beside him, creating something.
“You make standing my ground sound like it’s a bad thing.”
“Nope. Not at all. I’m guessing you’re extremely successful because of it.”
“There are some who think that’s a negative as well.”
“What? Your success?” She stopped rolling to look at him, her eyes filled with genuine surprise. “That’s just jealousy,” she said as she went back to rolling.
“Maybe. But many see it as cutthroat. Heartless.”
