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He guided Casey to press down hard and quick. But despite the distraction of Dev’s big body, solid and warm at his back, Casey couldn’t help being enchanted by the smooth, round disk growing under the rolling pin.
“I’m doing it!” Well, technically, Casey was along for the ride, but the result was right there for anyone to see.
“Yup. I like rolling out the dough on the marble board because when you can see the veining through the dough, you know it’s thin enough. Tart pastry can be a little thicker than pie crust, so we don’t have to go too crazy. This one looks good. Now the other. Ready to go solo?”
Casey bit his lip and peered up at Dev through his lashes. Okay, so I’m going to hell. The journey will be worth it. “Maybe show me one more time?”
“My pleasure.”
They shaped the second crust too quickly for Casey’s liking. He heaved a tiny disappointed sigh when Dev stepped back, but now he was invested. This was farther than he’d ever gotten in his father’s kitchen, and he wanted to see how these turned out.
“How about we each take one of these and lay the fruit out?” Dev said. “You can follow my lead until you get the hang of it.”
Casey wanted to ask if Dev would guide him in handling the slippery fruit, but that would be pathetic, and he’d already risked eternal damnation by asking for unnecessary rolling pin assistance. “All right.”
“Start in the center, making a little spiral. See? That’s why we wanted them crescent shaped. The slices can spoon up against each other. Keep going until you’re about an inch and a half, two inches from the edge.”
Despite the suggestive spooning, Casey concentrated on laying out the peach slices neatly. And really, it wasn’t hard. Their shapes were conducive to the circular dough disks, and the brilliant orange peaches, their inner curves edged with bright red, were so pretty that he nearly forgot Dev was standing next to him.
Okay, so maybe he wouldn’t go that far, but he could admit to a surge of satisfaction when his tart didn’t look too different from Dev’s.
“Alright, now we’ll pinch ’em.”
“Pinch? Why?” Casey lowered his voice. “Have they been… bad?”
Dev smirked. “Pinching isn’t always bad.”
Did Dev’s gaze flick to Casey’s chest? Probably just my imagination.
“So, good pinching. Got it. Why?”
“We’re creating the edge to keep the fruit contained while the tarts bake. Slide your fingers underneath and raise the edge. Then pinch the dough between your fingers to keep it up.”
“Slide, raise, pinch. Keep it up. Got it,” Casey muttered, although keeping certain things down was becoming more difficult. Was Dev using suggestive descriptions on purpose?
“Then we’ll brush ’em with cream, give ’em a hit of raw sugar, and they’ll be ready to go.”
He’s totally doing it on purpose. However, Casey gritted his teeth and carried on. Ten minutes later, the four tarts were in the oven.
“They won’t take too long.” Dev washed his hands at Peach’s sink and dried them on one of Sylvia’s ubiquitous tea towels. “We’ll check ’em in about twenty minutes. I’ll set the timer, but since we’re not working from a recipe, we should probably hang out here and keep an eye on them.”
Casey nodded as he washed and dried his own hands. “Working without a recipe. Isn’t that like walking a tightrope without a net?”
Dev chuckled. “Nothing so risky. Besides, how do you think people develop their dishes? Trial and error, plus a little knowledge about food chemistry and flavors.”
Casey’s dad had always made it seem so much more… mystical. As though nobody should be allowed near a kitchen who hadn’t been blessed by the food gods. He settled on a tall stool next to Dev, where they had a clear view of the oven. “So you’re a welder and a baker?”
“And the town manager. Let’s not forget that.” Dev’s expression turned a little bleak. “Lord knows nobody else ever does.”
“If you don’t want to be town manager, why do you run?”
“I don’t.”
Casey squinted at him. “Wait. You’re not elected?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m elected. I just don’t run. It doesn’t matter. Having a Harrison as town manager is a tradition that refuses to die, so every year on Town Meeting Day, they elect whichever Harrison happens to be on deck. At the moment, that’s me.”
“You could refuse to serve, you know.”
