Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"You make it look so easy," I said, watching as Gibsie added the final drizzle of melted chocolate onto a freshly baked chocolate éclair. He placed it on a small plate, the aroma of sweet pastry filling the air as he handed it to me with a satisfied grin.
It was late on a Saturday evening. Gibsie had closed the bakery over two hours ago, but we were still here, messing around in the kitchen. While he trialed new recipes, I eagerly volunteered as his taste-tester, happily indulging in every single one. The kitchen, with its warm lighting and familiar scent of vanilla and baked goods, had become our little sanctuary.
I took a bite of the éclair and immediately moaned with joy as the combination of fresh cream and rich chocolate melted on my tongue. "Oh my God," I exclaimed, almost in disbelief at how good it tasted. "So...good!"
Gibsie chuckled, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed, his usual cocky grin spreading across his face. "It's good, huh?"
"Better than good," I replied between bites. "Joker, you are seriously talented."
He walked over to where I was sitting on the counter and, with a playful shake of his head, picked me up in one effortless move, placing me back on my feet. His strength always caught me off guard, despite how often he demonstrated it. "No asses on the counter, princess."
"Oops," I said, not at all sorry, as I leaned against the counter instead, a mischievous smile playing on my lips. "Sorry, chef."
He shot me a mock-serious look, wiping his hands on his apron. Gibsie took his role here seriously, and I knew why. The bakery was one of the few things he had left from his dad. When his father, Joe, passed away, Gibsie's mother had stepped in to keep the family bakery running, but it was clear that Gibsie had inherited his father's talent. It was beautiful to watch him finally embrace it, the way he poured himself into every creation.
"You're so abnormally responsible when you're here," I teased, watching him rinse the bowls and utensils in the sink. "It's kind of adorable."
He looked over at me, eyebrows raised. "You know I love it when you stroke my ego, Princess, but somehow, I don't think calling a seventeen-year-old lad 'adorable' is the compliment you think it is."
"It is in my world," I replied with a smirk. As he finished washing up, I grabbed my coat and bag from the stool by the door, shrugging the jacket on. "So, listen, I have a bit of a crazy idea to run by you."
Gibsie wiped his hands on a towel, his curiosity piqued. "Crazy idea, huh? Sounds like trouble. I'm in."
I laughed. "You don't even know what it is yet. What if you hate it?"
"If it's your idea, then I won't hate it." He hung up his apron and pulled off his hairnet, his tousled brown hair springing free. "Besides, you gave up your whole Saturday afternoon to keep me company while I worked. Least I can do is give you my Saturday night."
