“Have you considered a career in assassination? You could just poison people,” Jeremiah offered, licking the spoon.
“Don’t you dare put that spoon back in the dough. That is unsanitary. You’ll be the one poisoning the customers.” She reached to yank the mixing bowl from his hands.
He caught the other side of it and jerked it to him, holding it protectively like a mother might a baby. “You’re going to put the cookies in the oven, that will kill any germs I might have. I need this after sampling your vile concoctions. I’ve been traumatized, and my stomach is devastated beyond belief. Sheesh, woman, I’m not certain Fyodor should allow you into their family with the carnage you’ve wrought on these poor helpless baked goods.”
“There’s a reason you don’t have a girlfriend,” Ashe said, and dumped the rest of the trays of blackened croissants into the trash.
“How do you know I don’t have a girl?” Jeremiah scowled at her.
She yanked the bowl of cookie dough from his hand. “You wouldn’t dare be so mean. You lack the ability to be supportive.”
Marching over to one of the two long islands in the center of the room, where she’d laid out the recipes, she slammed the mixing bowl down onto the metal top with a little too much force. The sound was loud enough to make her wince.
“Leave her alone, Jeremiah,” Gorya said again. “He’s working on his vocabulary, just in case you haven’t noticed. He might shut the hell up if you acknowledge his good word usage.”
Jeremiah snorted. “I’d do better if she’d quit setting off that fucking alarm.”
The fire alarm went silent abruptly, removing the blaring and very annoying noise. Gorya had unscrewed it and unhooked wires.
“It isn’t entirely my fault that the stupid fire alarm keeps going off. It’s highly sensitive. Evangeline needs to change the setting or something.”
Gorya groaned, shook his head and walked to the other side of the room, keeping his back to her. Jeremiah wasn’t so polite.
“Change the settings? As in you have a fire alarm but you set it for quiet? On vibration maybe? If there’s smoke the entire building might vibrate?”
“Shut the hell up,” she snapped. “I’m trying to concentrate. If I don’t get this right, we’ll be a bakery without any goods. I can pretend we’re sold out of everything else, if I at least have these cookies.”
“Ashe.” Gorya came back to stand beside her. “Why don’t we just clean up in here and keep the bakery closed for another day or so until we see if Evangeline gets better.”
“I promised her I would help her,” Ashe said.
She looked around the room. Pots, pans and dirty dishes were piled high. Flour coated the floor and was on nearly every surface. She didn’t even know how that had happened. The cute little torch that she was supposed to use delicately had nearly started a fire. The worst was, she really had been working hard. Very hard. She had absolutely nothing to show for it but a very messy room that looked like it would take a cleaning crew of twenty or so to put it right.
Ashe wasn’t given to crying. She just wasn’t, but she felt the burn behind her eyes and hastily turned away from both men. She’d never had any interest in cooking or baking, but she’d always thought it would be easy enough if she just put her mind to it. She’d done that. She’d really tried, but not one single thing she’d made had come out right. She certainly couldn’t sell any of the goods she’d done, not in Evangeline’s exclusive bakery with its really great reputation. Not even the one sponge cake that had sort of turned out. It was a little lopsided, but the taste was right. Okay, very lopsided, and caved in completely.
“She’ll know you tried,” Gorya said. “We’ll help you clean up.”
Jeremiah hopped off the table and went straight to the pile of dirty dishes. “No worries, I’m good with soap.”
She knew he was trying to make her feel better by volunteering to help clean up but that meant she didn’t look as stoic as she hoped. She must look close to tears. That was just plain humiliating.
“I’m going to try this last thing. These are Fyodor’s favorite cookies. If nothing else we can bring them home with us if they turn out and we decide we can’t open. I’ll get them on the trays to bake and while they’re baking I’ll make the caramel cages that she puts over some of them.”
“You go ahead and try—” Jeremiah broke off. “You do that,” he corrected. “I’ll start the cleanup.”
Ashe took a deep breath. She could do this. For Evangeline. For Timur. She didn’t want all of his men laughing at him behind his back, making fun of him because she couldn’t cook. She had learned one thing from this horrible experience. Well, maybe two. She detested baking and all things to do with kitchens and she hated the sound of fire alarms.