She took the loaf pans out of the oven, making sure to turn the heat off, and pointed to the sugar syrup. “Bring that here along with a brush.” When he tried to hand her the syrup and brush, she pointed to the loaves. “You may have the honor, Mr. Ward.”

He frowned at the items in his hands. “What do I do?”

“Brush the top of each loaf with syrup.”

“How?”

Alice’s lips twitched but she managed to keep a neutral expression. He was adorable. Taking his hand, she dipped the brush into the syrup and moved to the piping hot bread. “Now brush all over the top, really coating it.” She released him and nudged his shoulder with hers.

He lightly touched the brush to the bread, almost as if he were afraid of tearing it. “How much should I brush on?”

“We’ll go with what feels right, but we need to brush two coats on each. Don’t worry about hurting the bread. Give it a good soak.”

Growing bolder, he applied more glaze to the loaf. “You’re laughing at me.”

“I am not. The only way to learn is by doing.”

“Sort of like kissing,” he said, his voice deepening.

She could feel her skin heat in a way that had nothing to do with being near the warm oven. “Exactly. No one is perfect at first.”

“Well, I was . . . but I’m preternaturally skilled in that department.”

His arrogance drew a laugh out of her. “I can hardly argue, considering. So, who taught you how to kiss?”

He switched to the other loaf. “A milliner’s daughter when I was eleven. She was fourteen.”

Goodness, eleven! How different his experience had been from hers. “How did you meet her?”

“I went to buy my mother a hat for her birthday. It was before she grew ill, but I noticed she was sad. I had the foolish idea that a new hat might cheer her up.”

“Why foolish?”

He sighed and put the syrup down, but he didn’t move away, the two of them not even an arm’s length apart. “She needed a new husband, not a new hat. Except I was too young to know as much.”

Clearly, his mother had meant a lot to him. And she undoubtedly had adored Kit, a sweet son who wished to make her feel better. “I bet she loved that hat.”

A soft, affectionate smile emerged. “She asked to be buried in it.”

“Oh, Kit.”

His shoulders rose and fell with the force of a deep breath. “I hadn’t thought of that in a long time. It is a rare nice memory, one of only a handful from my childhood.”