It wouldn’t kill her to let him run with the chocolate frosting. It was just for the crumb coat anyway. The fondant would hide any flaws, and if there was one thing she knew she could trust it was that whatever he made would taste good. She could never, would never, deny his talent or palate, but his comment about everything being intentional still gnawed at her. What did he want from her?

They tag-teamed putting the cakes in the oven.

“I’m not sure I’ve really saved you any time,” he said, glancing at the clock, “but this is going to be one heckuva cake.”

Enthusiasm coursed through her veins. “I can’t wait to see it all come together.”

“Let’s get the sugar work going.”

She clapped her hands. She couldn’t help herself. It was exciting to learn a new technique.

“I promise you it’s not as hard as everyone makes it seem.” Andrew took over, grabbing pans and taking control of the stove. “I’ll teach you how to not make every rookie mistake I made the first two years I tried to work with it.”

“Two years?” She stepped up next to him at the stove.

“Yeah, but you’re a natural. I know I can teach you better than I was taught.”

She hoped so, because if this didn’t turn out, she was going to be in a real pinch to make another cake in time to deliver.

For the next hour they worked on making the sugar glass shoulder-to-shoulder. He imparted every tip he’d learned, and he was right—it was surprisingly easier than she’d expected, at least with his help. He even showed her some tricks with coloring the mixture and pulling the sugar to give it an even more realistic texture.

As she used a set of tongs to pull the sugar, he reached around her and guided her hands. His gentle touch caught her off-guard. She tried to push aside the old feelings that were rushing back and focus on the task, but it wasn’t easy.

The longer they experimented, the easier it became, and the banter she’d always loved between them came back too.

“Wouldn’t it be neat if we could really get it to look like a real splash? Almost 3D?” She placed a finger against her lips.

“I know that look. You’re getting ready to come up with something really good.”

She mused. “I think the hot sugar would stick on heavy foil wrap or we could shape a mold to get that rounded splash look.”

“I’ve got an idea. I’ve never done it, but I’ve heard of it. Do you have some balloons?”

“I do.” She retrieved a bag of twisting balloons from the cabinet. “Pick your color.”

“Red for me. Pink for you.”

“He remembers,” she said softly.