Bake Me A Cake: A Single Dad Love and Baking Romance Read online

  “Henley, can I ask a question?” Cora asked.

  “Of course you can,” Henley answered.

  “Do you like my dad?” Cora asked, her bright green eyes focused on Henley.

  Henley shot a brief glance at Dean, who seemed as shocked and frazzled as she was. She glanced back at Cora and chuckled.

  “Do you?” she asked again.

  “He’s a nice guy.”

  “I know, but that’s not what I asked. Do you like him?”

  “I do like him, yes.”

  “Are you going to marry him?”

  Dean frowned and before he could respond, Henley said, “No, we’re just friends.”

  “Good, because he needs a friend.”

  Henley smiled slightly and looked over at Dean, who put his arms around Cora and hugged her tight.

  Just before nine o’clock, after Dean took Cora back home, he and Henley sat on the couch, not saying a word.

  “Cora is amazing. She’s so smart and beautiful.”

  “A lethal combination,” he said with a weighed smile.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Cora’s birthday party is on Saturday.”

  “Okay.”

  “No, not okay. Claire asked me to provide the cake, and I was supposed to order it days ago, and I forgot.”

  “What kind of cake is it?”

  “I have her instructions on the fridge.”

  Henley frowned as she stood up and grabbed the invitation that was stuck to the refrigerator door. She read through the specifications and walked back to where Dean was sitting.

  “This is pretty specific,” she said as she sat down beside him.

  “I know. She’s going to hang me by my-”

  “Let’s not panic.”

  “No offense, Henley, but you don’t know Claire. She always gets what she wants, no matter what.”

  “Right.”

  “Can I just buy a pre-made cake? Won’t that be good enough?”

  “Unfortunately, your ex-wife is as elaborate as she is specific.”

  “Meaning?”

  “This is a thousand dollar cake. Do you realize this, Dean?”

  “What?” he exclaimed. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “But it’s for a six-year-old.”

  “Regardless. It’s three tiers high and it has details that take up a lot of time.”

  “Shit.”

  “You can say that again,” she muttered. “Didn’t you know?”

  “I don't know anything about cakes.”

  “Well, let me tell you this. This cake that your ex-wife wants, can’t just be ordered a day or two before the event. A cake this size, and this detailed takes a lot of planning and man-hours. It could take at least a week to prep alone, and a couple of days to bake and decorate.”

  “How do you know this?” he asked.

  “I owned a bakery and a confectionary store in Sacramento, a few years ago. I did a lot of these specialized birthday cakes, wedding cakes, and novelty cakes. It’s a lot more common in bigger cities than here.”

  “Why did you leave?”

  She lowered her gaze and fiddled with the top corner of the invitation. “I didn't leave, exactly.”

  “What happened?”

  “Do you really want to hear about my life?”

  “I do,” he answered. “You heard about mine.”

  She smiled briefly and looked at him. “Okay.”

  She pursed her lips and frowned. “My mother was addicted to IV drugs and left when I was in high school, so I stayed with my grandparents. It was my grandmother who taught me how to bake. She was amazing. She could literally bake anything from scratch. I’d never seen anyone do that before. After high school, I went to cooking school and did my master bakers’ course. Then I got a really good business opportunity in Sacramento, and I took it. I owned my own bakery and confectionary store, and I was on top of the world. Then my grandparents died in a car crash and I was on the verge of going home, but I didn't. My grandmother would have wanted me to stay and make a success of myself, and I only wanted to make them proud. I came down for the funeral, of course, and I went back. Eighteen months ago, my mother tracked me down, and she wanted to make amends because she was dying. Her addiction had caught up to her and her body was shutting down. She asked me to bring her home, to Oceanside, because she wanted to die here and be buried next to her parents. It was going to cost a lot because she needed a Med-flight to get her to the hospice here.”

  Henley paused as tears filled her eyes and she lowered her gaze again. Dean reached out and placed his hand on hers.

  “It’s okay, You don’t have to go on.”

  “I have to get this out. I have to talk about this. It’s not healthy to keep it all inside.”

  “Only if you want to.”

  She nodded and wiped the tear that rolled down her cheek with her free hand. “In order to get her to Oceanside, the only way to come up with the funds was to sell my business.”

  “Henley, no...”

  “I don't know why, but I felt obligated to sell my business because my addict mother needed to be transported,” she said and burst out into tears.

  Dean shifted closer to her and put his arms around her. “It’s okay,” he whispered as she cried on his shoulder.

  She shook her head and pulled away slightly. “She left me, but I still sold my business. I gave up everything for her.”

  “Because that’s who you are, Henley. You’ve got the biggest heart of all the people I know. You’re amazing.”

  “Then why did she leave?”

  “Because she was too focused on getting her next fix. It has nothing to do with you, okay.”

  “Thank you,” she sniffled. “I’m sorry for getting emotional. I know guys don’t really like that.”

  “You don’t have to apologize for how you feel, Henley. It’s a part of your life and who you are.”

  She wiped her tears and tried her hardest to compose herself. There were much more important things to worry about than the past. She had to look forward.

  “Okay, so, we’ve got more important things to worry about.”

  “Like?”

  “Like this ridiculously big and detailed birthday cake.”

  “But you just told me that it was too late to find another bakery.”

  “It is.”

  “I don't understand.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “No, I can’t expect this of you.”

  “Dean, for the last year I have been dreaming of baking a cake like that again. I love baking, it was my life-”

  “It still is.”

  “You know what I mean,” she said and rolled her eyes. “But, seriously, I want to help you.”

  “I don't want to hassle you with this.”

  “You won’t. I want to,” she said and placed her hands over his. “Please let me do this.”

  “Okay, but on one condition.”

  She narrowed her eyes and waited for him to continue.

  “I want to help you.”

  “That seems fair.”

  “Okay,” he said as he leaned over and grabbed his wallet. He opened it, slid his credit card out of one of the pockets and handed it to her. “Take this, and tomorrow you can buy whatever you need to do this.”

  Henley narrowed her eyes at him slightly and pursed her lips.

  “Take it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s not going to be cheap,” she pointed out.

  “Will it look and taste amazing?” he asked.

  “Yes, definitely.”

  “That’s all I want to hear.”

  Henley smiled and took the card from him, twirling it around a few times. She would have to ask Jess where the best place was in town to get everything she needed. She glanced down at the detailed instructions from Claire and she frowned.

  “Are you having second thoughts already?” Dean asked, looki
ng a bit more anxious than she was.

  “No, of course not. I’m just trying to figure out exactly how I’m going to do this.”

  “Will my kitchen be okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, that’s not what I am worried about.”

  “Then what are you worried about?”

  She bit her lip briefly and looked at him. “Nothing. I’m not worried at all. I can do this. I will do this.”

  He nodded and studied her face. She looked a bit terrified, but also he noticed the determination in her green eyes. He smiled and placed his hand over hers again, feeling the warmth of her skin against his. “Thank you, Henley. You are literally saving my life.”

  “What are friends for?” she asked and tilted her head.

  Chapter Six

  Jess parked the van of Latte’s Away in front of Dean’s house and Henley unbuckled her seatbelt. She turned to her friend and smiled. “Thanks for your help, Jess.”

  “No problem. I have to admit it was rather fun. It’s not every day that I get to spend another man’s money.”

  Henley chuckled and opened the door.

  “Let me help you unload,” Jess said and the two women climbed out of the van. Jess slid open the side door just as Dean came out of the house.

  “Hey Dean,” Jess greeted him.

  “Hey,” he said to her and glanced at Henley. “Did you have fun?”

  “Actually we did,” Jess chuckled. “Give us a hand please?”

  “Sure,” he chuckled as she shoved a box his way.

  It took them about ten minutes to unload the van and pack everything in the kitchen. They said goodbye to Jess and Henley and Dean stepped inside the house.

  “You’ll be glad to hear that I sent Kyle and Devon away for the evening, so they won’t bother you.”

  “Us, you mean.”

  He frowned at her and she laughed. “They won’t bother us. You’re helping me, remember.”

  “I know. I’m here at your disposal.”

  She flashed a crooked smile and nodded. “Good to know.”

  “So, where do we start?”

  “Well, a cup of coffee would be nice,” she answered with a smirk.

  “Of course. Anything you want,” he said.

  While he made them each a cup of coffee, Henley started organizing the ingredients into three groups. The first group was the ingredients for the cake itself, the second one was for the fondant and the structuring of the cake when it is put together, and the third one was for decorating.

  She placed two large mixing bowls on the counter and started adding the dry ingredients into the two bowls.

  She didn't have to concentrate too much, as she had done this so many times in the past, it just came naturally to her. She spotted Dean looking at her in awe as she added all the dry ingredients together without as much as a recipe in front of her.

  “What?” she asked as she wiped her floury hands on her jeans.

  “Nothing. You just look so natural. Happy even.”

  “Baking was one of the things that made me happy in my life.”

  “What were the other things?”

  “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

  He grinned at her and handed her a bright red cup of steaming hot coffee.

  “Thank you,” she said gratefully taking the cup from him. She dug in her back pocket and took out his credit card. “Here you go. I didn't overspend. I promise.”

  “That’s okay. As long as you got everything you needed.”

  “I made a list last night and I am sure I got everything,” she said with a nod and placed her cup down on the counter. She scooped out two blocks of butter and started to mix them into the dry ingredients.

  “You’re really good at this,” he said with a grin.

  “I’ve been doing it for so long, it just comes naturally,” she answered modestly.

  Dean smiled at her and stepped to her. “What comes next?”

  “Okay, so the milk, eggs, and yogurt gets added to the dry ingredients, and mixed until it’s nice and smooth,” she said and handed him a whisk. “Will you be able to handle that?”

  “I hope so,” he chuckled.

  “Just watch me, okay?”

  “Okay,” he nodded.

  He watched her hand movements carefully as she whisked the wet ingredients into the dry ones, and attempted to copy every move.

  “Nice and slow,” she said calmly.

  “Nice and slow,” he repeated, doing exactly what he was told.

  She was done before he was and she turned to him. He had a strange look in his eyes and she raised an eyebrow.

  “Are you okay there?” she asked and tilted her head.

  “Yes. I was just thinking how relaxing this is.”

  “For now.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, as soon as the baked cakes come out of the oven, then the real work actually starts. Then it’s setting up the tiers, mixing the buttercream, the colors, the details.”

  “That is a lot of words I don't understand.”

  She laughed with amusement, still whisking away.

  “How do you do it all?”

  “I love doing this. It’s like me asking you how do you know which wires to connect to which ones?”

  “Why would I want to do that? Just get a longer wire.”

  “See, I don't know that. It’s easy for you,” she shrugged. “Also, how you are with Cora. It’s easy.”

  “You think parenting is easy?”

  “No, but you make it look that way. You’re amazing with her, and I admire that about you. She’s really lucky to have you as her father. You’re just...” Her voice trailed and she searched for the right word. “You’re a perfect father.”

  “Thank you, but there’s no such thing.”

  “Not from what I’ve seen,” she said and looked at him.

  His whisking slowed down slightly as he gazed at her, looking a bit unsure.

  “Don’t slow down.”

  “What?”

  “Keep your speed, it makes the batter smoother.”

  He glanced down at the bowl and nodded. “Right.”

  Henley walked over to him and glanced at the batter. She took the whisk from him, their fingers lightly brushing, and she whisked a few times. “That’s perfect, actually. Good job.”

  “Thanks. It was my first time.”

  Henley chuckled and handed him the whisk again. “See, you’re a natural.”

  She walked over to the oven, where she taped the instructions. She also made a rough sketch of what the cake should look like, for her own reference and she studied it for a short while.

  “I was thinking. Could add a little bit of purple coloring gel to the pink?”

  “Will it make it less pink?”

  “It’ll make the color stand out a bit better in my opinion. Cora loves purple, so I doubt she would be completely torn up about it.”

  “You remember she loves purple.”

  “I’m more observant than I'm supposed to be. Apparently I’ve been like that since forever.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  Henley smiled at him and nodded.

  “Do what you think. You’re the professional.”

  “Okay.” she grabbed two small bottles with gel coloring and squirted small amounts of each into each bowl.

  “Shall I mix it in?”

  “You do that,” she grinned.

  He started mixing and was quite surprised when the mixture suddenly turned into a deep pinky-purple color. “Wow, that stuff is intense.”

  “It’s the best thing since baking powder.”

  As soon as both the mixtures were done, Henley sprayed the seven cake pans with nonstick spray, and she carefully poured the batter into them. Luckily, the stove at Dean’s house was big, ridiculously big, so seven pans could fit in there are once.

  Henley closed the oven door and set the timer for thirty-five minutes. She turned around and watched as Dean started to wash the dir
ty bowls.

  “You’re really handy to have around,” she said with a grin.

  “Well, that’s good to know,” he answered and looked at her over his shoulder. “You go sit down for a bit, I’ll finish up here.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  She walked into the living room and almost fell down into the couch. She glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. It was just after ten pm. She rubbed her eyes and sighed.

  “Are you tired?”

  “Not really. I just forgot how much energy a cake like this requires.”

  “Well, I think you did quite well.”

  “With your help. You were really helpful, and not bad with a whisk either.”

  Dean chuckled and sat down on the couch beside her.

  “Thank you. I really appreciate it that you’re helping me.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m the one who will be forever in your debt. That is to say if you pull this off.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him and briefly bit her bottom lip. “This cake will be the best damn princess cake you’ve ever seen, or that anyone has ever seen.”

  Dean grinned, stifling a laugh.

  “Are you doubting my skills?”

  “Absolutely not. You just needed a bit of fire to keep going.”

  “Right,” she said with a laugh and playfully nudged his arm.

  Her hand lingered for a moment and she looked into his brown eyes. “Sorry,” she whispered, a bit breathlessly and looked away.

  They were silent for a few seconds, and Henley stood up. “I’m just going to use your bathroom.”

  “Sure. You know where it is.”

  Or you could come show me, she thought to herself, but instantly scolded herself for thinking that. She hurried up the stairs and down the hallway. She closed the bathroom door behind her and stared at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and she ran her fingers through her hair.

  “Get a hold of yourself, damn. What is wrong with you?” she muttered to herself and splashed cold water on her face.

  Henley realized that she really liked Dean, and not just as a friend anymore. She couldn't deny it any longer, but she couldn't exactly tell him that, could she? She wasn't the one who had to make the first move. That would make her seem desperate, and she wouldn't want to seem desperate.

  “I am desperate though,” she whispered with a sigh, but shook her head, composing herself. “Just keep it together, Henley.”