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“Maybe. We’ll have to see how those cookies taste.”
She licks her bottom lip, and now I’m wondering how her lips taste, instead of those cookies.
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath through her nose. Did she just…
I smirk. “Did you just smell me?”
Her eyes flutter open. “What? No! That…would be weird. So weird.” She giggles and looks around the kitchen.
“You did,” I press.
She looks back into my eyes. “I did,” she whispers. “I always thought you smelled like chocolate, but I haven’t been close enough to know for sure.” She winces. “That’s not very professional.”
“I’m not being very professional, either,” I say in a low voice.
“So, you’re not going to fire me?” she asks with her feisty grin back in place.
“As long as you don’t file a complaint,” I say.
Her eyes dart from my eyes to my lips, then back up again. She sucks in a breath. “I’m not complaining.”
I lean in, dipping my face closer to her, and then…
BEEP!!!
“The cookies!” she exclaims, dashing back to the wire rack, and I groan inwardly.
I take a moment to gather myself, then follow her to the cookies. She picks up one of the cooled vanilla cookies and holds it out to me. “Try it.”
I take the cookie from her and try a bite. Closing my eyes, I savor the flavors, an explosion in my mouth. This is nothing like my cookies, the ones that apparently the whole town calls "bland".
“What is in these?” I ask, finally meeting her gaze.
“It’s vanilla bean paste. And I used powdered sugar inside, then rolled them in granulated sugar.” She points over at the end of the counter, where a pile of at least four dozen more cookies sits. “I’ve tried almond extract with the vanilla, lavender, caramel drizzle…”
“This is incredible.” I step over to the cookies and take a bite of the lavender one. I look over at Madeleine. “You’re incredible.”
She beams. “Thank you. I have a knack for picking out flavors.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, taking a bite of the caramel cookie.
“It was kind of a game at the Culinary Academy. People would try to hide flavors in their bakes, and I would figure out what they were.”
“And you were good at this?”
She crosses her arms over her chest, a smug smile on her face. “I was always right.”
I chew slowly, an idea forming in my mind. “Then I propose a test.”
She groans. “Another test? Come on, you know I’ve passed everything you’ve wanted.”
“You’re right, you have. So for now, I’ll allow you back here in the kitchen, but only after hours. And each morning, I’ll bring you a new treat, and you have to tell me what’s in them.”
“And when is the test complete?” she asks. “Because that’s the question I should have asked two weeks ago.”
“You’re right.” I take a bite of the almond cookie and unexpectedly gag at the flavor combination. “That’s not very good.”
“I didn’t say they were all good,” she says with a wicked grin.
