Gingerbread Wishes Page 5

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  Two days later, Tora set out rolling pins and molds on the long table she used for the children’s cooking classes. Her memories of baking special goodies at holiday time with Gram and Mama were precious. By offering the classes at the bakery, she hoped to encourage mothers to share in the experience with their children. A deal that couldn’t be beat, especially since they didn’t have to do any of the clean-up.

  “Hey, Tora,” Annabelle Willows called from the back room. “Do you want the second mixer out there now?” Blonde, sixteen, and boy crazy, the teen worked after school in the afternoons and on weekends.

  “That will be great. I’ll come back and get the ingredients for the dough.”

  The bell rang its merry tune. A gust of chilly wind preceded several bodies wrapped in down parkas, mufflers, and caps. The room filled with excited female voices.

  “Hi, Susan and Ann. Hello, Judith and Emilee.” Tora waved to women she’d gone to high school with and their daughters. “Here comes Trina and Maya. I’ll be right back with the last of the supplies.”

  As she assembled the spices, flour, and sugar on a big tray, she was aware of the repeated jangling of the bell. Maybe the construction of a gingerbread house wasn’t as imposing a task as Mama and Gram had counseled.

  Annabelle hoisted herself onto the counter next to the tray. “Looks like everyone’s here. Anything else you need me to do?”

  She pulled her gaze from the tray and glanced at the young girl. In rapid succession, images of a toddling Annabelle blurred with a toothless grin over the handlebars of her first bicycle, then flashed forward to braces, makeup, and practicing for a driver’s license. With a heartfelt pang, Tora realized she would miss this girl she’d known all her life when she left town. Swallowing against a suddenly dry throat, she shook her head. “Just tend to any customers who walk through the door while I’m busy.”

  The bell rang again.

  “That’s my cue.” She jumped down and moved to the doorway, then looked over her shoulder with an impish grin. “Oooh, did you really mean anyone?”

  Tora lifted the tray and walked closer, puzzled by the teen’s bug-eyed stare directed toward the front of the shop. “Of course I did.”

  “Good, cuz this guy looks good enough to eat. Even if he is kinda old.” After tossing a smile over her shoulder, Annabelle fluffed her hair and sashayed forward. “Welcome, sir. Come right on in.”

  Dismissing the teen’s one-track mind, Tora maneuvered the tray through the doorway, concentrating on keeping the items from falling off. The chatter of voices had dwindled, and an expectant hush hung over the room.

  “What can I get you, sir?” Annabelle purred her question.

  “We’re here for the class. If there’s room for two more.”

  A shiver ran over Tora’s skin and her head shot up. She knew that voice. For the past two nights, she’d heard it in her dreams. Her gaze locked with the hopeful one of the exact type of sophisticated man she hoped to meet…when she moved to the big city.

  Jordan Dawson. Warmth spread through her chest at the sight of his wind-tousled hair and the casual elegance of black jeans topped by a fisherman knit sweater. An aura of confidence clung to his movements. Just like the stories she’d heard of his legendary athletic successes.

  A smile widened his full, sexy lips. “I forgot to register, Tora. But Jenna has her heart set on making a gingerbread house.”

  Tora’s cheeks flamed, hoping her thoughts hadn’t shown on her face. “There’s always room for one more.” She glanced at the little girl’s serious, upturned face and winked. “And isn’t Christmas all about making wishes come true?”

  “We appreciate it.” He flashed her a wide smile.

  Her knees actually wobbled for a second until she stiffened them. This is crazy. She pulled her gaze from his grateful one and turned to address the entire class. “Welcome to Sugar & Spice’s first gingerbread house class. Over two sessions, you’ll bake the walls and roof, construct those pieces into a house, and then decorate it to suit your personal taste.” As she spoke, she was aware of the women’s curious glances in Jordan’s direction. “Remember, there’s no right or wrong way to do this, so let’s have some fun.”

  With a couple of quick words, she divided the group into teams and passed out the printed instructions. Her mind whirled with the thought she’d be seeing him again at the second session. And wondered why that gave her such a thrill. He was just getting settled in town, and she had packing boxes lining her living room, preparing for her escape.

  Noticing Jordan stood back from the proceedings, she walked toward the far end of the table. Jenna’s gaze was wistful as she watched Susan and her daughter with their heads bent over the recipe. “How are we doing here?”

  Susan laughed and brushed auburn curls away from her face. “Fine, we’re mixing together the dough, and Jordan offered to roll it out.”

  “Ah, a division of labor.” She leaned close and kept her voice low enough only Susan could hear. “Just make sure Jenna gets to measure and stir if she wants to.”

  Susan looked to where Jenna stood and her gaze softened. “Of course. Have you heard? The poor thing lost her mother a little over a year ago.”

  Sudden stinging pricked the back of Tora’s eyes, and she blinked away threatening tears. Empathy for the little girl’s loss moved through Tora. The poignancy of missing her father had been especially hard at the holiday time. Jordan was smart to create new memories with his little girl.

  The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Thoughts of the gingerbread cookie she’d eaten a couple days ago flashed through her mind. Almost against her power, she felt the pull of her gaze being drawn his way. His dark eyes reminded her of thick hot chocolate—warm, rich and decadent.

  He stepped close and pitched his voice low. “Again, I thank you for letting us join the group.”

  The scent of him—clean skin and spicy aftershave—filled her senses. “Glad to have you...and Jenna.”

  He glanced at Jenna as she spooned flour into a measuring cup with deliberate moves. “I can put a simple meal on the table that meets the criteria of edible. But I’m clueless when more than three ingredients are involved.”

  “I’m sure you’re exaggerating, but I’m happy to share a little of what I know.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  His husky voice sparked a flame of awareness that started near her heart and spiraled lower. “Oh?”

  A dark eyebrow crooked. “Will you be demonstrating how to use the rolling pin on the dough?”

  “Demonstrating?” She’d figured the moms would show their daughters. Besides, as baking equipment went, the rolling pin was a low-technology item and didn’t require instructions.

  “When we reach that stage, please come show me how.”

  “Sure, I can do that.” Giving a personal lesson was not out of the ordinary. But fifteen minutes later when she stood next to him hip-to-hip and laid her hands over his to guide his movements to flatten the dough, the experience was everything but ordinary. The heat from the length of his lean body pressed against her side made her tremble. “See, first work the dough outward in one direction, then angle the pin ninety degrees and work in the other. Keep a dusting of flour on the wood.”

  “Looks easy enough.” He stood so close, his words feathered along her temple.

  She shivered and stepped away. Thinking he might share her interest was silly. No guy this handsome or confident had ever noticed her except to borrow class notes. To steady her thoughts, she concentrated on the other teams, checking their progress. “Class, remember to use the rulers as you roll and keep checking your measurements. Don’t roll the dough thinner than a quarter inch.”

  She promised herself to focus on the entire class. Her thoughts would not dwell on the handsome man who somehow managed to look completely at ease as he shared the rolling pin with his daughter.

  An hour later, the shop was filled with the scent of ginge
r and cinnamon, and racks on the back shelves contained the cooling house pieces. Tora waved goodbye through the window to a mom and daughter and pressed a hand at her back. Lots of bending over involved with teaching kids. She grabbed a terry towel from her apron pocket and turned back toward the counter. Clean-up time.

  “Tora, can you join us?” Jordan sat in the far corner, a cell phone pressed to his ear.

  Jenna looked up from her coloring book and gave a little wave.

  Why is he still here? From the back room came the sounds of the dishwasher running and pans rattling in the sink. Annabelle had the clean-up process started. Everything out here appeared under control.

  She slid into a vinyl padded chair and studied the little girl’s serious expression. Too sober for such a young child. “Jenna, did you enjoy the class? Rolling out the dough and cutting the shapes was fun, wasn’t it?”

  For a moment, her hazel eyes brightened and she nodded.

  “That’s one of the reasons we need your help,” Jordan whispered, pointed at the phone, and then spoke into it. “I’ll expect it done tonight. Great, thanks.” He punched the screen to disconnect the call and slid the phone into his back jeans pocket. “Jenna and I need your expertise.”

  Tora looked between the sets of brown and hazel eyes twinkling in her direction. “How I can help?”

  “We have only seen gingerbread houses in storybooks.” He shared a long glance with his daughter. “What goes into decorating them?”

  The bell rang out Jingle Bells and Tora jumped up when she spotted a couple of teenage girls. “Be right with you.”

  “Stay, please.” Jordan placed a restraining hand on her arm. “I’m sure Annabelle can wait on them. She handled the customers just fine during the class.”

  “Hello.” Annabelle walked in from the back room, wiping her hands on a towel. “How can I help you?”

  At the sight of her assistant taking charge, Tora sank into the chair with a sigh. Jordan was right. Annabelle had been here almost two years and was great with customer service. “What questions do you have?”

  “Can we really decorate with any candy we want?” Jenna’s eyes opened wide and she leaned forward.

  Tora responded to the awe in Jenna’s voice with a smile. “You sure can. Gumdrops or licorice, red hots or chocolate bits, jelly beans or lemon drops. Then there’s rock candy for the outside and maybe chocolate sprinkles to make a log.”

  “I love sprinkles.” Jenna bounced in her chair. “But how does it all fit?”

  With a glance at a smiling Jordan, Tora leaned an elbow on the table. “That’s the best part. Fluffy white icing holds it all together. Tomorrow, you bring in your favorite candies, and we’ll find a place on the gingerbread house for all of them. Decorating is like magic.”

  Jenna grinned and turned her attention to her coloring book with outline drawings of colorful fairies and wooded forests.

  Resting her chin on her fisted hand, Tora watched the little girl, remembering how she used to sit in this very corner and color while her Gram and Mama worked behind the counter. When she was Jenna’s age, she loved fairies too. Such nice memories.

  A hand shook her shoulder. “Tora?”

  She straightened, rubbed her eyes, and then locked gazes with concerned brown eyes.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone fall asleep so fast.” Jordan leaned his forearms on the table. “Tora, you need to delegate some of your work.”

  “Have to admit my day starts real early.” Tora fought back a yawn and stretched her bent arms out to her sides. “I usually need a pick-me-up around this time everyday.”

  He lifted a hand in a beckoning wave. “Annabelle, please bring two coffees and your boss’ favorite treat.” He glanced at Jenna’s hopeful expression. “Add two or three chocolate chip cookies.”

  When the food and drinks were served, Jordan angled his chair outward and crossed his long legs. “I don’t like seeing anyone work so hard, especially not such a pretty lady. Let me help you organize your workload. This is kind of my specialty.”

  Not sure why he called her pretty lady, she squirmed in her chair. “Organization is a specialty?”

  “Retail management was the concentration of my business administration degree. Techniques I learned helped me start my first business.”

  Wonder what’s involved in a retail management degree? Maybe I’d get credit for my years here. “The sporting goods store.”

  “Nope, my first was a used book exchange I operated out of my fraternity house. Earned me enough to open the first sporting goods store.”

  “First?” She sat straighter. “As in you own more than one?” She broke off a piece of the cherry strudel that sat next to her mug of steaming vanilla-flavored coffee and popped it in her mouth.

  “The store I’m opening here in the spring will be the fifth in Texas.”

  Jeez, this guy is a business mogul. “Wow, I had no idea. You could really make my schedule easier?” Tora suspected the look she turned on Jordan was as wide-eyed as his daughter’s. But any help that allowed her more time to herself would be appreciated.

  At least, for as long as she owned the store.