Chapter Seven
On Saturday, Tyler was working the early shift at the gym so he didn’t have to think about the Bake-Off. In theory. Though maybe that was a mistake, he thought, because all his personal training clients wanted to talk about the Bake-Off, and when he was covering the reception desk everyone who came into the gym wanted to talk about it, too.
And all he wanted to think about was Stacey, and the “something” they’d agreed to tonight.
He didn’t want to rush her; but, at the same time, he did. He ached for her. And he had a feeling it was the same for her, too.
At least, he hoped it was.
“From this point on,” he said at midday, thoroughly fed up with the teasing, “anyone who says the B-word in the gym gets fined a dollar toward the funds for Harry’s House.”
His announcement was greeted with catcalls and further teasing.
And then, finally, it was time to go. Because he was running late, he had to change and go to Marietta High School straight from the gym, so he didn’t get the chance to see Stacey first.
He really hoped he wasn’t going to let her down.
Jane McCullough caught him at the entrance to the school. “Tyler! I’m glad you’re here. We were starting to worry.”
“Hey, I wouldn’t let you down,” he reassured her. “I just got caught up at work.”
She must have seen through the brittleness of his smile, though, because she put her hand on his arm. “Are you OK?”
“Yeah. I just don’t want to make a prize idiot of myself,” he admitted. “Everyone knows I can’t cook.”
“Remember what you’re doing it for,” she said. “That’s more important—”
“—than my ego,” he finished. “I know. And I want to do my best to help raise the money.”
She patted his arm. “It’s appreciated, believe me. Most of the bakers are in the teachers’ lounge next to the kitchens.”
Tyler peeked into the school cafeteria on the way. Eight of the folding tables were laid out as countertops with ingredients and equipment, and a name-card with each baker’s name handwritten on them. Next to them was another table with four chairs, for the judges.
The other folding tables were lined in rows facing the bakers’ tables, with chairs round them. From what he could see, the place was crowded; he knew the admission tickets were $10 each, so this would be a good start to the fundraising.
One side of the room had refreshment stalls offering tea, coffee, sodas, and cake—including the red velvet cupcakes Stacey had made. The other side had a mix of stalls set up by local businesses—everything from cosmetics and sweaters and shawls made from the wool from the local alpaca farm, through to jewelry made by Jillian at Tangled Charms and Sage Carrigan’s amazing chocolates.
He was the second to last one to arrive in the teachers’ lounge, and Jane handed him a black apron with Bachelor Bake-Off in big pink letters on the front. “Your uniform for the day.”
“Seriously?” Tyler asked, pulling a face.
“It could be worse,” Jake Price, the local public defender, said with a grin. “It’s February now so everyone’s thinking about Valentine’s Day. They could’ve made us wear aprons covered in pink hearts.”
Like Stacey’s apron, Tyler thought. “Yeah.”
“Or chef hats. Remember when Ry Henderson had to wear his posh Parisian chef’s stuff for the Bachelor Auction in Grey’s, the other year?” Avery Wainwright, the rodeo rider, asked.
“Do I,” Tyler said wryly. “OK. I’ll shut up and wear the apron.”
He already knew Warren Hunt, the business manager at the Graff Hotel, and Daniel Brer, a local portfolio manager who’d grown up in Marietta; and he’d just been introduced to finance whiz Zac Malone and wealthy financier Wes St. Claire when Jane McCullough came bustling through with her clipboard. “Everyone all set?” she asked.
“Sure,” they chorused.
“Jodie Monroe—Harry’s mom—is our MC. She’s going to run through everything for the audience, introduce the judges, and explain what the prizes are,” Jane said. “Good luck—and thanks for being good sports. I know some of you had your arms twisted and a couple of you were signed up without even being asked first.”
“It’s for a really good cause,” Zac said.
“And those of us who can’t cook—which is probably just me,” Tyler said, “can live with the teasing.”
“As you know, we’re going to auction off the cookies in batches of a dozen afterward,” Jane said.
Tyler had forgotten about that. If only he’d thought to give Stacey some money and ask her to buy his batches for him. Was it too late to text her and ask her?
He surreptitiously palmed his cell phone, only to discover there was no signal. Well, it was the middle of the high school, so of course there was some kind of signal blocker; they wouldn’t want students being distracted by texts and what have you.
But it meant he was on his own.
“So good luck and may the best baker win!” Jane said brightly.
A couple of minutes later, they were called through to set up their stations. Matthew West, the town veterinarian, arrived at the last minute and nodded to Tyler. Jodie introduced each of the bachelors in turn, then ran through the rules of the competition.
The ingredients were all set out on the table, along with a set of measuring spoons and cups, and to Tyler’s relief so was the recipe. He’d done his best to memorize it but this was way out of his comfort zone—cooking in front of people when everyone knew he could practically burn water.
He scanned the crowd of people, looking for Stacey, and saw her sitting at a table with some other women he recognized as teachers and assistants at the elementary school. For her, he wanted to get this right.
She caught his eye and smiled at him, and suddenly everything felt good with the world. Until he looked at the judges. He knew Ryan Henderson, the pastry chef, and Sage Carrigan from the chocolate shop; Rachel Vaughn, the owner of Copper Mountain Gingerbread and Dessert Company, made up the trio of food specialists. They’d all know exactly what they were looking for from the bakers and would judge fairly but firmly on presentation, texture, and taste. The only wild card was Langdon Hale, the new fire chief; from what he’d heard, Langdon was quiet and a good judge of character. Tyler just hoped that Langdon might be less particular about cookies and would be the judge who gave good scores to be kind.
“Okay, bachelors, start your cookies!” Jodie rang a little bell, then stepped to the side.
Tyler dropped his box of eggs; to his horror, the whole lot broke, and he had to borrow a couple of eggs from Daniel, who was at the table next to his. But he managed to cream the butter and sugar without leaving lumps, added the eggs and vanilla and baking powder so it looked disgusting, then added the chocolate chips and the flour. Mud pies, he reminded himself, squishing the dough together.
Looking up from his table again once he’d put spoonfuls of dough on the cookie sheet was a mistake, because he could see his team from the gym. Sitting with them was Lyle Tate, looking hugely amused. Worse still, he saw Kelly get up from her table and go over to Stacey’s table.
Oh, help.
He nearly dropped the first sheet full of dough, and had to force himself to concentrate on what he was doing. If he couldn’t even get the dough into the stove, he might be the only baker in the group to get a first-round score of zero. Unless they’d take pity on him and give him a few marks for turning up and trying…
*
“Hi—you’re Stacey, right?”
Stacey looked up to see a younger, dark-haired woman standing next to her. “Y-yes.”
“I’m Kelly—I work for Tyler,” she said, holding her hand out. “It’s good to meet you.”
Stacey made herself take a deep breath so she wouldn’t stutter. “Good to meet you, too, Kelly.”
“So you’re his secret weapon, then? Lyle Tate just told me you’re teaching him to bake. Teaching Ty, that is, not Lyle,” Kelly added with a smile.
Had Lyle also told her about the terms of their bet? Stacey wondered.
Clearly yes, because Kelly’s brown eyes were sparkling. “You’d better hope Ty really doesn’t come last, because Lyle Tate’s kisses are mind-blowing.”
“You’re Lyle’s g-girlfriend?” Stacey asked.
“Ex,” Kelly said with a smile. “But we’re still good friends.”
“Uh-huh.” Stacey could feel the other woman assessing her.
“I’m glad you’re on our team,” Kelly said, surprising her.
“Thank you.”
“And you know they’re auctioning off the cookies afterward? I was just thinking… Well, Ty dropped those eggs earlier.” She bit her lip. “He really can’t cook and I feel a bit guilty about signing him up for this, now. If he gets the temperature on the stove wrong or he doesn’t set the timer properly…”
“I’m on it,” Stacey said, understanding Kelly’s worries immediately. “Actually, I’d been thinking the same. I was going to bid whatever it takes to get them.”
“There are going to be four lots of a dozen each. Say we buy two lots each?” Kelly asked.
“Done,” Stacey promised. “I’ll b-bid for the first two and you bid for the second two?”
“Done.” Kelly winked at her. “Go, Team Carter.”
“Team Carter,” Stacey echoed.
Tara nudged her. “So you and Tyler are…?”
Stacey thought about denying it. But Carol Bingley had already started spreading gossip, and people might have seen her and Tyler out together in the town. She nodded shyly. “Though we started out as just friends. I remembered what you said.”
“Maybe you’re the one he’s been waiting for,” Tara said. “An awful lot of women will envy you.”
“It’s early days,” Stacey said lightly. “Anything can happen.” But she knew she’d already started to fall in love with Tyler. His earnestness, his passion, the way he wanted to change the world. She liked all that about him and more.
While the cookies were in the process of baking, Stacey went round the stalls with Tara. She bought one of the special Harry’s House fundraiser bands from Jillian at Tangled Charms, which said “Harry’s House” and had a silhouette of a house as well as a silhouette of a hammer and saw crossed over one another. She also bought some of Sage’s dark salted caramels and a raffle ticket for a night in the honeymoon suite at the Graff Hotel; she was hardly going to use it herself if she won, but she thought it might be a nice treat for her aunt Joanie.
Finally, it was time for the judging. She could see all the bachelors looking awkward as the judges visited each table in turn, inspecting the cookies and cutting them open for a taste before going off to the side in a huddle to mark up their score sheets.
When they’d tasted the last batch, Langdon Hale, the new fire chief, came to the front to announce the scores.
“As judges we’ve been busy tasting the baked goods and scoring our bachelors on the appearance, taste, and texture of the cookies. All our bachelors have worked hard this afternoon, and I’d like you to put your hands together for them.” He waited for the audience to applaud the bakers. “Thank you, everyone. The scores are, in reverse order: in eighth place, with choc chip cookies, Tyler Carter.”
He’d come last.
Stacey was gutted for him, knowing how hard he’d worked. It took her attention away from the rest of the scores, until Langdon announced that the winner was the town veterinarian, Matthew West, with chocolate macadamia nut cookies. “And now I’ll hand you back to Jodie,” he finished, “to auction off the baked goods.”
Stacey glanced over to Kelly, who gave her a thumbs-up to say she was ready.
Just as they’d planned, Stacey bought the first two lots of Tyler’s cookies, and Kelly bought the other two.
Lyle Tate strolled over to her table. “Good afternoon, ladies.” He gave them a small bow. “Good to see the elementary school’s finest out in force this afternoon.”
“Oh, listen to you, Lyle,” Tara said, laughing. “Don’t tell me—Jane’s asked you to come and charm everyone into buying an extra raffle ticket for the Graff’s prize?”
“No, but if you’d like one I’d be happy to fetch it for you,” he said with a grin. “Going to take me with you if you win, sugar?”
“Oh, be still, my beating heart,” Tara teased, clutching both hands to her chest and laughing.
“It was worth a try. No, I’m here to claim my winnings.” His blue eyes twinkled as he looked at Stacey. “Well, sugar, your man came last. So that’s twenty dollars you owe me toward the Harry’s House fund.”
She took out her wallet and paid over the cash with a smile. “All for a good cause.”
“And a kiss,” he reminded her.
Even though Lyle was handsome, with his sandy hair and amazing blue eyes, the idea of kissing him felt more like kissing a brother. He didn’t make her heart beat faster, the way Tyler did.
But she’d made the bet to kiss him if Tyler came last, and she wasn’t going to renege. Though, when she pushed her chair back and stood up to kiss him, she was surprised when Lyle gallantly kissed her on the cheek.
“One kiss, paid in full,” he said.
“But…” she began.
“Don’t take me the wrong way, sugar. I would never force a girl to do anything she didn’t want,” he said softly. “I’m more likely to take down the kind of guy who does that sort of thing.”
“I know. You just like flirting with all the girls in town.”
“With so many beautiful women in Marietta, who could blame me?” he asked. “Out of interest, if you’d won, what song would you have made me sing?”
“Lady Gaga’s ‘Born This Way’,” she said promptly.
He laughed. “Good choice. You’re right about the flirting. It’s how I am. But I’m still friends with every woman I’ve ever dated.”
Kelly had said that she and Lyle were still friends, and something about the fireman made Stacey pretty sure he was just the same with his other exes. Maybe he was just searching for something he hadn’t found yet. “That’s good to hear.” She paused. “Can I ask you something professionally?”
“About firefighting or ranching?” He looked surprised. “Sure, sugar. Go ahead.”
Actually, she’d meant singing. “Do you know any songs about chickens?”
He blinked. “Chickens? I ranch cattle, sugar. I don’t know much about—hang on, did you say songs?”
She nodded. “It’s kind of an in-joke.”
“With Carter? OK.” He paused, clearly thinking about it. “Well, off the top of my head, there’s ‘Dixie Chicken’ by Garth Brooks, ‘Little Red Rooster’ by the Rolling Stones, and ‘Do the Funky Chicken’ by Rufus Thomas. Does that help?”
“It helps a lot.” On impulse, she kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, sugar.” His smile faded slightly. “I’m glad Carter’s picked a nice girl to date this time. The last one was beautiful, but she broke his heart. I don’t think you’d do that.”
“I’ll try not to,” she said. She didn’t think Lyle was the type to gossip and she liked the fact that he was clearly looking out for Tyler. She had a feeling the men were good friends, despite the banter between them at FlintWorks.
“It’s good to see you again, sugar,” he said, and patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger.”
Though, when Tyler walked over to join then, Lyle made the shape of an L on his forehead with his finger and his thumb. “What did you do wrong, Carter? Not pay enough attention to your teacher?”
Tyler rolled his eyes. “I left them in for about a minute too long, so the texture’s…”
“… hard as a rock and burnt almost to the point where I’d need to get my firefighter gear,” Lyle finished. “So I saw.” He made another of the L-signs.
“Thanks, man,” Tyler said dryly. “You wait till the next circuit class. You’re going to hurt for weeks after.”
“No, I’m not. You’ll take pity on me because I’m the hero who saved the rest of the town from having to eat your cookies.”
Tyler blinked. “You bid on them?”
“Two lots, actually—there’s a stone wall I need to fix back at the ranch, and those cookies’ll come in mighty handy,” Lyle said with a grin.
“For those circuits,” Tyler threatened, “I’m thinking single-leg burpee jumping jacks. Fifty on each leg and no swapping legs until the whole fifty’s done.”
“Bring it on,” Lyle drawled, winked at Stacey, and went off to flirt with someone else.
“Just ignore what he said, Tyler,” Tara said. “You did well up there. It’s not easy having to do stuff with what feels like the whole world watching you.”
“I still came last,” Tyler pointed out.
“It’s not the winning, it’s the taking part,” Mandy, one of the other teachers at the school, said.
He smiled. “Spoken like any good elementary schoolteacher. Thanks, ladies, for trying to make me feel better.”
“We meant it,” Tara said. “I love baking, but it’s a whole different ball game doing it in front of everyone in town. I would probably have dropped the eggs, too.”
“Me, too,” Mandy said.
Tyler looked at Stacey. “Don’t say it.”
“Thinking it,” Stacey said with a smile, and lifted three fingers to her friends.
“We’re going to head off, now,” Tara said. “See you Monday, Stace. Catch you later, Tyler—if not before, then next Saturday, and we’re going to cheer you on.”
“Thanks for the support, ladies,” Tyler said. “Next time you want to sit in the spa pool, it’s on me. I’ll make sure there’s a note on the reception desk.”
“Thank you. We’ll take you up on that,” Mandy said, and smiled at him.
Tyler took Stacey’s hand when her friends had left them. “I’m sorry. I let you down. Everything you told me—I should’ve kept a closer eye on those cookies. I swear it was only a minute.”
“You didn’t let me down. Every stove’s different,” she said. “And you made money for Harry’s House. That’s the important thing.”
“I know. But I am so not going to come last next week.” Then he grimaced. “Actually, I probably am. We have to make pie. Uh.” He grimaced again. “Pastry’s meant to be harder than cookies. Ry Henderson spent years in Paris learning to do pastry. I don’t stand a chance of learning it in a week.”
“Yes, you do,” Stacey said firmly. “You’re not doing fancy French pastry. I can teach you basic pie crust, no problem.”
“In a week, and considering I managed to mess up your failsafe cookies?”
She smiled. “It doesn’t matter—you tried and that’s the important thing. People might tease you for a while, but you’ve done something positive to help Harry’s House. Nobody can deny that.”
“You have a point.” He sighed. “So what did Kelly say?”
“We talked about being Team Carter,” she said. “I think L-Lyle might’ve been yanking your chain about buying the cookies. Kelly and I arranged to buy the lots between us.”
“I’ll reimburse you both.” He wrinkled his nose. “Sorry. I meant to ask you beforehand if you’d bid on them for me.”
“No need. Anyway, it was Kelly’s idea.”
He nodded. “She’s a good kid. She went a little bit wild after school, but then she came to work for me and it’s all good now.”
She’d already worked out that Lyle Tate was the kind of man who rescued people; it was beginning to sound as if Tyler was the same. “I think she feels a bit guilty about signing you up for the Bake-Off,” Stacey said.
“I’ll live,” he said. “And I’m pretty sure she was egged on by quite a few others. I’m not going to blame her.” He blew out a breath. “Right now I really need some recreation—something to take my mind off dropping eggs and messing up your failsafe recipe in front of half the town. Would you like to come ice-skating with me?”
Ice-skating? Panic flooded through her. “I can’t s-skate.”
“I’ll teach you.”
She trusted him, but this was skating—she’d always been hopeless at even walking on ice, let alone anything else. She’d fallen over all the time as a child, when it was icy; she still had the scars on her knees, and her mom had been so mad at how many clothes she’d ruined…
He stole a kiss. “Look at the boxing. You did way better than you thought you could at that, and this will be the same thing.”
“Boxing’s different,” she said. “Then I’m on my feet on solid ground, not trying to b-balance on slippery ice on a t-tiny shred of metal.”
“I promise I won’t let you fall,” he said softly, and she had a feeling he was talking about more than just the ice.
Plus she knew he was right about needing to let off steam. He’d faced a challenge and not done as well as he wanted, and now he needed to regain his balance—just as she did when she tackled things that didn’t work out quite the way she planned them. She dealt with it by baking something complicated; he clearly needed something more physically challenging. “OK. Let’s d-do it.” She took a deep breath. “Do I need to change?”
“Your jeans are fine,” he said, “but you might need a thicker sweater, plus a woolen hat and gloves, and you definitely need thick socks for skate boots.”
“Can we go back to my apartment so I can change?”
“Sure we can,” he said. “I’ll pick up my skates while you’re sorting out your sweater.”
Since Tyler actually owned a pair of skates, Stacey thought, that meant he must feel very at home on the ice. Then again, given what he did for a living, she wasn’t surprised. She just hoped he didn’t have any real expectations of her, or she’d disappoint him just as much as she’d always disappointed her father.
Once she’d changed into a thicker sweater, made sure she had a padded jacket and extra socks, he drove them to the parking lot by the courthouse.
“There’s a rink in Marietta?” she asked surprised. She’d half expected him to drive them into the city.
“There’s an outdoor rink at Miracle Lake,” he said. “It freezes over, so everyone skates here December through March.”
“It’s so pretty,” she said in delight. There were fairy lights strung through the trees, and the skate rental hut also sold hot chocolate. “I never knew this rink was here. I guess my friends aren’t the—well—sporty type. Same as when I was a student in Bozeman.”
“So what do you do to blow off steam?” he asked.
“Now or back then? Though I guess it’s the same. The movies or the theater,” she said. “Or cook something and put the world to rights over a bottle of wine.”
“Sounds good. And the world would be a boring place if we all did exactly the same thing,” he pointed out.
“I guess.” Her father had always considered movies and the theater a waste of time, and she’d soon learned only to talk to her parents about what she was studying rather than what she did in her downtime.
“Let’s go and sort out your skates.”
It took Stacey a long while to get the hang of skating in a straight line, even with Tyler holding her hand. She knew her ineptness must be really frustrating for him, though to his credit he was patient with her and none of his frustration showed in his face. She really appreciated that; she’d spent too many years flinching inwardly and feeling stupid when she hadn’t met her parents’ expectations.
“You said you needed to blow off some steam,” she said. “Why don’t I sit out for a little while, so you can skate at your real skill level instead of letting me hold you back?”
He looked at her. “I asked you to come with me. I’m not going to just dump you in a corner and ignore you.”
“Nobody puts Stacey in a corner,” she deliberately misquoted. “And I’m happy to sit out for a bit and watch you. I’ll be fine.”
“Got it.” He smiled at her. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Absolutely. It’ll be fun to watch you,” she said. “Go and show off.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He tipped his woolen hat at her, saw her safely to a bench at the side of the rink, then returned to the center.
Stacey watched him and was amazed at what he could do: skating backward, and doing complicated turns and spins. He was clearly enjoying himself, yet at the same time she noticed that he was careful with the people round him and made sure he didn’t crowd anyone. Tyler Carter wasn’t the kind to ride roughshod over others.
He skated back over to her bench. “Thank you. I needed that.”
“No problem,” she said brightly.
But some of her feelings of inadequacy must have shown in her face, because he kissed her. “Ice-skating isn’t the easiest thing in the world, and you did great for a first time. I’m glad you came with me tonight. I wouldn’t have wanted to share this with anyone else. Come for a last glide round the edge of the rink with me?”
Tyler Carter was one of life’s nice guys. Was he just being kind, asking her to skate with him again when she was so hopeless?
Again, he seemed to guess at her thoughts. “I’ve blown off the crazies. There’s nothing I want to do more right now than skate round the edge of the rink, hand in hand with my girl, then go to the rental hut for some hot chocolate and then kiss her until we’re both dizzy.”
She felt herself blush. “That’s a plan.”
He leaned forward and kissed her. “And then…something.”
And she tingled all over.
With Tyler holding her hand, she managed to glide round the edge of the rink without falling over, and he helped her remove her skates before they headed to the rental hut for hot chocolate.
“You’re really good at skating,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“Did you learn as a child?”
“No—not until I was a student. I used to play ice hockey,” he said. “I loved it, but there’s not much call for ice hockey in Marietta.”
“Maybe you could set up a team?” she suggested.
“I think most of the guys in town prefer skiing or doing something on horseback.” He smiled. “Anyway, if I missed hockey that much, I’d still be living in Bozeman where I could do it all the time.”
“Bozeman’s a beautiful city,” she said. “Did you go to university there?”
“Yeah.”
“Me, too.” And she’d blossomed, away from her parents in Missoula.
“I like Bozeman well enough,” he said, “but I’m happier back home, here in Marietta.” He paused. “But I was thinking maybe we could go to Livingston tonight. Do you like Chinese food?”
“Love it,” she said.
At the restaurant they chose egg rolls, noodles, a seafood dish of jumbo shrimp, scallops, and vegetables served on a sizzling platter, and moo shui pork with vegetables and pancakes.
“That has to be the most perfect Chinese meal ever,” he said when they’d finished.
“Agreed,” she said.
The waiter brought them the bill—which Stacey insisted on sharing—and a fortune cookie each.
“So what does yours say?” Tyler asked.
“Pick a path with heart,” she said. It was something she’d done with her career; maybe it was time she did the same with her personal life.
He opened his. “Oh, dear. ‘Be patient—in time even an egg will walk’.” He gave her a rueful smile. “That, or it gets dropped in the middle of a Bake-Off in front of the whole town. I’m expecting omelet jokes from everyone at the gym for the next week.”
She laughed. “Or you could say it’s like your chicken thing and boxing. Lyle gave me some ideas for chicken songs, by the way.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hey. It doesn’t matter that you came last. At least you took part—you didn’t chicken out,” she said, squeezing his hand.
He groaned. “Enough with the chickens.”
When he’d driven them back to their apartment block and they’d walked down to her front door, Stacey turned to him. “Would you like to come in for a glass of wine?” Or something, she added mentally.
“I’d like that,” he said softly.