Amanda took a deep breath and looked around. Everything, including the appliances and the big worktable, had been packed up and put in storage. Even knowing it was temporary, seeing her kitchen so empty filled her with unease. It reminded her of a dream—nightmare, really—she used to have of this exact scene. Only, in her dream, Bake My Day had failed. She’d failed. And she was standing alone in the kitchen to say a final good-bye to everything she’d worked for.
She shook her head, as though the movement itself might shake off the anxiety that used to haunt her with more regularity. It was silly to feel that way now. Bake My Day wasn’t merely keeping its head above water. It was more successful than she’d dared to hope for back in the early days. Back when Mel had been supportive on the surface but couldn’t seem to keep herself from commenting on their dwindling savings. When every Saturday night cake delivery was met with a self-aggrandizing offer to babysit. Like taking care of her own children by herself was some grand gesture.
Her phone pinged with a text from Mel. Big day! Let me know if you want company.
The sense of dread crept back in, and it hit her. She wasn’t feeling this way because of the bakery. She was feeling this way because of Mel. She dashed off an, I’m good, but thanks, annoyed but not wanting to start an argument.
She headed to the front of the bakery, which managed to look even more starkly empty than the kitchen. It didn’t bring her down the way the kitchen did, though. Realizing the source of her angst had actually helped.
Joss was already there, giving directions to her crew. When she saw Amanda, she stopped mid-sentence and did introductions. A small thing, really, but the kind of personal touch Amanda appreciated.
“Do you need anything else from me?” she asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to linger a moment longer.
“No, we’re ready to get started.”
She nodded, not used to feeling unneeded. “Great.”
“I have something for you, though.” Joss handed her a white hard hat with the Bauer and Sons logo on it in deep green.
“Is this a souvenir?”
“No, it’s so you can visit the site anytime you want.” The answer came from Quinn, who appeared in the doorway, hard hat already on.
She ignored the ripple of pleasure. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
Quinn looked at her feet before making eye contact. “I had a feeling you’d be here, and I thought a little moral support might come in handy.”
“Thank you.” So similar to Mel’s offer, yet utterly different. With one comment, Quinn had managed to make her presence all about Amanda.
“It’s my pleasure.” Quinn angled her head toward Joss. “Although, I should warn you, she’s not above putting clients to work. It’s how she met her wife.”
Joss shot Quinn a look of mild exasperation. “That’s not what happened.”
Amanda looked from Joss to Quinn and back. “Why do I get the feeling this is a really good story?”
“Because it is,” Quinn said.
The exasperation faded and Joss smiled. “Olivia, my wife, hired me to rehab the old farmhouse she bought. She had strong feelings about doing some of the work herself.”
“Ah. That’s sweet. Were you already together?”
“Oh, no.” Quinn’s answer came with a snicker. “They couldn’t stand each other at first.”
Amanda had only met Joss twice now, but she liked her. “Is that so?”
“It was mostly me.” Joss shook her head. “I was an ass. Fortunately, she didn’t hold it against me in the long run. And I promise I won’t put you to work.”
“That’s good. I’m pretty sure I’d just be in your way.” She sometimes wished she was handy, but not enough to risk ruining something.
Quinn narrowed her eyes. “Do you want to be put to work?”
“Um.” She hadn’t given it any thought.
“What about some demo?” Joss asked.
Quinn offered an encouraging smile. “Impossible to mess up. And a great way to work out aggression.”
She thought about Mel and the idea of destroying something suddenly had a certain appeal. “Really?”
Joss and Quinn exchanged knowing looks. Quinn looked her up and down. “How do you feel about that outfit?”
She’d specifically dressed for a construction zone—jeans and a University of Rochester shirt with sneakers. “They’re work clothes.”
Joss grinned. “All right, then. Let’s do this.”
She put on her hard hat and Joss handed her a pair of gloves, then a sledgehammer. Quinn stepped to the side while Joss gave directions. The hammer weighed a lot more than she thought and the idea of trying to wield it with an audience made her self-conscious. “Maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
Quinn put a hand on her shoulder. A casual gesture, friendly at most, but it sent a shiver up her spine. “You can’t mess it up.”
Backing out now would make her look like a coward, which would be worse than looking like an idiot. “Okay.”
Amanda positioned herself the way Joss instructed. She swung the hammer over her shoulder and into the wall. It broke through and lodged with a satisfying thud. Joss helped her free it and encouraged her to keep going. So she did. Again and again. She didn’t picture Mel’s face, exactly, but their recent interactions certainly fueled her.
When she stopped, a dozen holes covered the wall. Her arms ached and she was out of breath. “That might be my limit.”
“That was amazing.” Joss took the hammer from her. “You ever want to join the crew, you say the word.”
Amanda laughed. “You’re exaggerating, but thank you.”
“You did better than I could have.” Quinn’s voice gave her a start.
She’d sort of forgotten Quinn was there, watching her. She felt her cheeks flush. “I’m not going to lie, it was fun.”
“Right? Fair warning, though, your arms will probably be killing you tomorrow.”
Despite the self-consciousness a moment ago, she couldn’t help but smirk. “I lift a lot of twenty-quart bowls in an average day.”
Quinn bowed slightly. “I stand corrected.”
Amanda pulled off the gloves and handed them to Joss. “Thank you for letting me have a go. Now I’ll get out of your hair so you can get to work.”
“Don’t feel like you need to keep tabs on things, but you really are welcome anytime,” Joss said.
“Thank you for that, too.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Quinn said.
In the parking lot, Amanda hesitated. She wasn’t in a rush to leave but didn’t want to keep Quinn from whatever she needed to be doing inside. “Was the hard hat your idea or Joss’s?”
“It’s something Joss will do when a client is interested. I suggested you might be one of those clients.”
For some reason, Quinn thinking about her that way made her happy. She took off the hat and studied it. “I appreciate that. And you being here today.”
“Of course. I confess, I had an ulterior motive. I wanted to see you.”
Another shiver of pleasure. “You did?”
“Now that construction is underway, I thought we could discuss furniture.”
“Oh.” Of course Quinn would want to talk to her about the project. It was dumb of her to think otherwise. Even after that maybe almost kiss on her porch.
“I mean, I wanted to see you. I just also had a reason.”
Did Quinn mean that or did she see the disappointment on Amanda’s face and want to soften the blow? She had no way of knowing, which irked her. Why was this so complicated? “What about furniture?”
“You mentioned wanting to do antique tables and chairs.”
“Do you think that won’t work?”
“Oh, no. I think it’s a fantastic idea. I wanted to know if you’d already been scouting them or were starting from scratch.”
The few tables she’d had in the bakery were wrought iron. Cute, but not the most comfortable. She planned to set them up outside after the renovation. They’d only be usable a few months of the year, but better than having them go to waste. “I haven’t started yet. Is that a problem?”
Quinn smiled. “I don’t think so. I asked because there’s this amazing antique show and flea market near Cooperstown. I thought maybe we could go together, make a day of it?”
Was this a date? Or the sort of thing architects did with their clients? “That sounds like fun. When is it?”
“This weekend. I thought, with the bakery closed, there might be a chance you were free.”
It really did seem like a date. Didn’t it? “I have one wedding cake Friday. I’m co-opting a kitchen in Trumansburg. I could go Saturday or Sunday.”
“I think Saturday should be the better day, weather-wise. And the offerings are better the first day. How about I pick you up at nine? There’s a great brewery and barbecue joint, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
She’d pretty much be into anything that involved Quinn, but didn’t want to seem too eager. “Sounds good.”
* * *
Quinn pulled into the grass lot at the edge of the fair, put her car in park, and cut the engine. “Ready?”
Amanda nodded eagerly. “I am.”
It was hard to say which had her stomach doing nervous flips—Amanda’s genuine excitement about hunting for old chairs or being on this pseudo-date with Amanda in the first place. Amanda had this effervescent personality, but it had substance underneath. She’d come to appreciate how rare that was. “We should be able to fit eight in the back and another four on the roof if you don’t mind them being tied down for the ride home.”
“If I find a dozen chairs today, you can tie me to the roof for the ride home.” Her emphasis on the “me” made Quinn laugh.
“Fortunately, you take up less room in the passenger seat, so you’re safe.”
Amanda smirked. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
A harmless question, but it hit home as they wandered into town. Booths lined the main street, mostly crafts and food vendors. “All the serious stuff is in the field up ahead.”
“Field?”
They rounded a small bend in the road and the main area spread out to their left, the size of three or four football fields. “I told you it was big.”
“Yeah, but this.” Amanda gestured in front of her, arms wide. “This is intense. How are we supposed to make our way through it all?”
“We aren’t. We’re going to be selective.”
Amanda’s brows furrowed in a way she found unreasonably charming. “But how do you even know where to start?”
“Easy. You come with someone who knows what they’re doing.” She grabbed Amanda’s hand. Only after doing so did she realize what an intimate gesture it was. But dropping it would only draw more attention or, worse, give Amanda the impression she didn’t want to hold her hand. She made a point of giving it a gentle tug as she steered them into the crowd. There, that made it seem logistical more than romantic.
They meandered the aisles, scoping out chairs, but pausing for vintage signs, antique milk jugs, and even a chicken coop. Amanda’s commentary was smart with a hint of self-deprecating. If Quinn hadn’t been smitten before, she was now.
Amanda found two pairs of chairs, letting Quinn haggle on the second set. She got the price down by twenty dollars, which didn’t seem like much but thrilled Amanda. “That’s it. I’m only going to flea markets and antique shows with you.”
Sounded good to her. “I accept this right and responsibility.”
After a couple of hours, the press of people and lack of shade started to take a toll, at least on her. She imagined Amanda felt the same. “Lunch break?”
“That sounds fantastic.”
“The barbecue place is out of this world, but if that’s not your thing, there are lots of other options.”
“Oh, no.” Amanda shook her head. “You put barbecue in my head and I’ve been thinking about it all week.”
“It’s that way.”
The line was long but moved quickly. Before long, they sat side by side at a picnic table with a family of four.
“You’re going to let me try that, right?” Amanda gestured to the pulled pork sandwich in front of Quinn.
“Assuming you’re going to return the favor with the brisket.”
“Want to go halvsies?”
Quinn chuckled, amused by the phrasing as much as the idea. “Sure.”
“Don’t feel like you have to say yes,” Amanda said.
“Oh, I want to. I just don’t ever assume people want to share. And my ex-wife is a vegetarian.”
Amanda laughed. “I have kids. I’ve been sharing my plate for twenty years.”
“Right.” She cut her sandwich in half and offered it to Amanda. Amanda did the same. They ate leisurely, then resumed the hunt. By midafternoon, they’d hit their goal of twelve chairs. They circled back through to collect them and got them loaded.
After everything was secured, Amanda stepped back and planted her hands on her hips. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
“Once or twice.” It was the sort of thing she and Lesedi used to do together. She hadn’t realized how long it had been or how much she’d missed it. “I’m also good at spatial relations.”
On the trek home, conversation lulled, but in a good way. It left Quinn feeling like they’d known each other longer, and spent far more time together, than they had. At Amanda’s, they unloaded the chairs into the garage, then stood for a moment admiring them. Eventually, Amanda turned her way. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“It was my pleasure, really.”
“I feel bad you didn’t find anything for yourself, especially if it was so I could have all the room in your car.”
She loved that Amanda would think about that, even if there was no need. “My apartment is too full already. So, if anything, you saved me from being a fire hazard.”
Amanda’s face took on a shadow of worry. “Were you sad to give up your house when you got divorced?”
Oh. That. “I was. It had great architecture. And, you know, fifteen years of memories.”
Amanda touched her arm. “I’m sorry.”
The last thing she wanted was to ruin the day with bad memories. “Thank you. It’s fine, though. I wasn’t crazy about the neighborhood. Full of Cornell professors.”
Amanda snickered. “They’re the worst, aren’t they?”
Right. Because her ex was a Cornell professor, too. “They are.”
She’d expected the day to end there, but suddenly she didn’t want to leave. Too bad they were at Amanda’s and not her place.
“Would you like to come in for a glass of wine?”
Well, that was easy. “Are you offering because you feel like you should?”
Amanda looked at the ground and then right into her eyes. “No.”
“Then I’d love to.”
Amanda poured glasses of Riesling and they sat on her porch. The perfect end to a pretty perfect day, not to mention the kind of thing she could imagine doing again and again. When their glasses were drained, Amanda offered to pour a second.
“I shouldn’t, but thank you.” Even if she wanted to.
Amanda sighed. “I probably shouldn’t either. I promised my son dinner when he got home from work.”
Quinn cringed inwardly. “You shouldn’t have let me keep you.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe I liked being kept.”
The comment wasn’t suggestive, at least not really. That didn’t stop Quinn’s body from responding like it was. She cleared her throat and hoped her face didn’t give away her thoughts. Amanda took her glass, leaving nothing to clear or help bring inside. Still, she hesitated. “Thank you for today. I had a really nice time.”
“I did, too.”
Before her brain could convince her it was a bad idea, she leaned in and brushed her mouth over Amanda’s. She had a fraction of a second of thinking how perfect Amanda felt before her doubts came roaring to life. She pulled back. “I’m sorry. I meant to—I mean, I was trying to—”
Amanda didn’t seem bothered. Maybe a little surprised, but in a good way. “Did you not mean to or not want to?”
If Amanda was interested in the difference, it couldn’t be all bad. “Didn’t mean to.”
“So, you wanted to?”
Quinn blew out a breath. “I think I’ve wanted to since the day we first met to talk about the bakery.”
Amanda nodded slowly. “I see.”
“But we’re working together and the last thing I want is to blur professional lines or make you uncomfortable or—”
Amanda didn’t let her finish. She pressed her lips to Quinn’s in the most perfect way. She didn’t linger, but there was nothing accidental about it. “Do you want to go out with me?”
Quinn swallowed. “I do.”
“And kiss me again?”
“I do. Very much.”
Amanda tipped her head slightly. “Then you should ask me. I promise I’ll say yes.”
This playful back and forth of Amanda taking the lead but not turned her on in ways she couldn’t quite put into words. She cleared her throat. “Amanda?”
“Yes?”
“Would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
Amanda’s head moved back and forth. “No.”
She felt her shoulders drop.
“But only because I have plans with my kids. Any other day this week would be perfect.”
“You had me worried there for a second.”
Amanda’s brow lifted. “Seriously?”
She shrugged. “You could change your mind.”
“Quinn?”
She so loved the way Amanda said her name. “Yes?”
“I won’t change my mind.”
Quinn nodded. “I’ll remember that.”
“Good.”
Wanting to quit while she was ahead, she reluctantly wished Amanda a good night. Amanda seemed sorry to see her leave. It gave her an almost giddy feeling as she drove home. Plus she had a date, one she made with a woman she wanted to go out with. More than her attraction to Amanda, it made her feel like she was back in the driver’s seat of her life.
She pulled into her usual parking spot but sat in her car for a long minute. It was a good feeling, this being in charge. It struck her, though. She’d not even realized how far away from it she’d let herself get.