Baking With A Rockstar ✔ [COMPLETED]

Chapter One

The soft glow of the morning sunlight and a fresh breeze stream through the open window into the kitchen. The canyon stretches out beyond the backyard, accentuating a sky splattered with beautiful hues of pink, orange, and blue. I turn away from the window and walk over to the big island in the middle of the room, grabbing the radio remote on the way.

Even though I enjoy the soft and comforting humming of the oven in the background, I prefer having some music on too. Almost everything is better with music, especially baking. Since there's a nice pile of dough waiting for me, I wash my hands thoroughly then dig into the soft mass, my whole body instantly relaxing at the sensation.

"Charlie, it smells amazing in here. What are you making?" Hannah startles me as she walks into the kitchen, stopping to casually lean against the refrigerator. Her gray hair is piled loosely on top of her head, making her look younger than she actually is. But since she was my grandmother's best friend, I know exactly how old she is—not that she acts like she's in her seventies. If there's one woman who portrays the saying of "You're only as old as you feel," it would be her.

"You're as stealthy as a cat." I shake my head and laugh, my hands automatically going to my now racing heart. Removing them from my shirt a moment later, I feel the material lift and immediately know I've made a mess. One look at my chest, and it's confirmed—several pieces of dough stick to the faces of my favorite Supernatural actors. I let my head fall in shame dramatically, not the slightest bit surprised about it.

I should have known better. Sorry, guys. Poor Dean and Sam.

"Sorry, honey, I didn't mean to sneak up on you. I always forget how easily you scare." She walks over and looks at the array of ingredients in front of me, especially the big jar in the middle with the hazelnut chocolate spread. "It's that kind of day, huh?"

We've only lived together for a few weeks, but she already knows me well enough to understand I crave specific kinds of food when I'm in need of some emotional comfort.

"I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, and the little I got was mediocre at best. So, I thought I could use a little pick-me-up this morning and decided to make some Nutella puffs." I smile at the silliness of it all. "You know how much I love that stuff. There's already some cream cheese Danish bread in the oven. I know you have a weakness for that too."

Hannah chuckles, the laugh lines around her eyes dancing with the movement. "You know I do. I hope you'll save some of both for me for later."

"Of course." After grabbing a rolling pin to roll out the dough, I look back up at her. "Where are you off to this early anyway? I was hoping you could sample the new cupcakes I want to make later."

Grinning at me, she grabs a banana from the large fruit bowl on the counter. "No worries, I wouldn't leave you alone with that task. The ladies from the quilt club talked me into joining them for their Sunday morning hike, but I won't be gone for long. Just a quick round around the lake."

"Oh, that sounds like fun."

She shrugs her shoulders. "I'm not sure I'd call it fun, but with all of the sampling you've put me through over the last few weeks, I have to up my workout routine if I want to continue to fit into my clothes." She winks at me, and I give her a big smile.

This woman has been my lifesaver, and I'm not sure what I'd do without her. I know for a fact I wouldn't be standing in this kitchen right now, more content than I've been in a long time, if it wasn't for her. Right when I hit rock bottom in my life, she swooped in and not only did she talk me into moving across the country on a whim—from New York to California—but she also provided a roof over our heads.