Roan made a face. “I’m afraid you’re setting yourself up for a tall order.”
Jazzy cleared her throat. “But I’m an optimist at heart. Does that count for anything at all?”
“I’m a realist and I hate to burst your bubble, but the odds are against you.”
“Do you know anyone in the area who gives campfire baking lessons?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“Have you ever considered teaching the skill yourself?”
Roan grunted. He liked Jazzy a lot, but he was not coming out of retirement to teach her how to bake. “I just don’t have the time.”
“Oh.” She looked disappointed.
He felt cruddy for saying no. She seemed like a sweet person, but it was important to have boundaries. He didn’t want to bake. He wouldn’t bake. It reminded him too much of all he’d lost.
“Why do you want this,” he asked, “knowing you’ll most likely lose to Andi again?”
“It’s not just about beating Andi,” Jazzy said. “I enjoy challenging myself and gaining new skills. Plus, the entry fee money goes to Holly’s House.”
“Holly’s House helped me pay for a play therapist for Trinity after Claire died,” Roan said. “Because I’m self-employed, I have a high insurance deductible and the monthly payments are so expensive that Claire’s social security money for Trinity wouldn’t cover even her half of my insurance policy.”
“That’s got to be difficult.”
“I can’t complain. I make a good living on my ranch. Too good to qualify for other aid. But that’s what’s so great about Holly’s House. They help people who fall between the health care cracks.”
“It’s good Trinity had therapy. Holly’s House is an excellent resource for Hood County families in need,” Jazzy agreed. “They did so much for me and my dad when I was suffering from childhood asthma.”
“Agreed. Anytime Holly’s House has a fundraiser, I’m there.”
“Except this time.”
“Except this time,” he echoed. “It’s nothing personal, Jazzy. Baking’s just not something I care to do anymore. Not even to teach.”
“I get it.” Her warm smile returned, and he couldn’t resist smiling back.
“All gone!” Trinity announced and held out her empty ice cream container.
“Look at you, Doodlebug. Keep that down and you’ll be busting out of here today.” Jazzy tousled Trinity’s hair. To Roan, she said, “I’ll get her discharge plan and go over it with you.”
“Thanks,” he said. He couldn’t wait to get Trinity home and put some distance between Jazzy’s understanding eyes and him.
“BRB.” Jazzy picked up the breakfast tray.
“Wait,” Roan said as she reached the door.
Jazzy paused and turned back to him. “Yes?”
“While I can’t teach you to bake, my wife and I used to have a YouTube channel where we featured campfire cooking tutorials. I could reactivate the account.”
Gratitude lit up Jazzy’s entire face. “You would do that for me?”
“Give me your phone number. I’ll text you when they’re re-uploaded.”
“Oh, Roan. Thank you so very much. You’re the best.”
And everything was just peachy in Roan Sullivan’s world until Trinity barfed vanilla ice cream all over him.