Sealed With a Kiss (35 page)

She wouldn’t panic. She’d strutted down the runways
of top fashion houses in Europe, stood in front of photographers
wearing haute couture masterpieces. She would not cry over a little
sour milk.

Except it wasn’t a little bit. It was her
last four quarts. She’d promised the Groovy Grans Motorcycle Club
that she’d have blueberry buttermilk pancakes ready for them at
seven o’clock. She checked her watch. In an hour and a half she’d
have fifteen unhappy grans standing in her café, wondering what had
happened to their breakfast.

She needed buttermilk and she needed it fast.
She took a deep breath and grabbed her jacket. Safeway would be
open. She could race across Bozeman, buy the buttermilk and be back
in fifteen minutes. She’d make the pancakes. Then she’d start on
the muffins, cakes, pies and scones that her other customers would
be waiting for.

She opened the front door, raced across to
her car, then remembered her wallet. She searched her pockets for
the keys to her café. She thought she’d put them in her jacket
pocket. She looked on the passenger seat, the back seats. They
weren’t there. Maybe she’d tossed them in her tote bag?

The one that was sitting inside the café with
her wallet.

This couldn’t be happening. It really
couldn’t. She turned the handle on the front door, hoping for a
miracle. It was locked. She rested her head against the glass and
tried to think like a logical, mature, twenty-nine-year-old instead
of the ditzy blonde that needed to break into her own business.

“Everything okay?”

Tess looked sideways and sighed. Logan Allen,
local multi-award winning reporter, and the one man guaranteed to
make a good day turn bad, stood beside her.

“Tess?”

“I’m fine.” She dropped her hand off the door
handle and turned to Logan. He’d been running. Sweat trickled down
his face, wet his t-shirt until it stuck to his wide chest and
bulging biceps. Not that she was looking. Not much anyway.

Tess refused to find his dark hair and deep
brown eyes attractive. She’d spent most of her life around male
models that were so handsome they took her breath away. But she’d
learned the hard way that those looks could hide a heart of
steel.

“It doesn’t look as though you’re fine.” His
eyes skated over her blonde hair and flushed face. “You
look…frazzled.”

“That’s a big word for five-thirty in the
morning. You could use it in one of your stories,” she said
sweetly.

“Yeah. A homicide. Blonde café owner found
dead in the street after insulting a reporter.”

“There you go. Another Pulitzer Prize winning
story in the making.”

Logan crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“Now that we’ve gotten over our first insult for the day, do you
want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I need buttermilk for pancakes, except I
left my wallet in the café.”

“Let me guess? Your front door keys are
sitting in the café, too?”

Tess glared at the smile on his face. “I’m
going to check my car. My keys might have fallen down the side of
the seat.” She crossed the sidewalk and open the passenger door of
her trusty Toyota. She hunted under the seat, beside the seat, in
the glove compartment, anywhere she could think of.

“Have you checked the trunk?”

Tess pulled herself out of her car. “Why
would I put them in the trunk?”

“I don’t know? Maybe you opened it to stash a
dead body inside? Or maybe you put your groceries in there like the
rest of us mere mortals?”

Tess kept her lips clamped tight. She didn’t
have time to bicker with him. She opened her trunk and put her car
keys in her pocket. “What is it with you and dead bodies? Has
something happened that you’re not telling me about?”

“There’s lots I don’t tell you,” Logan
muttered as he started hunting through the mess in her trunk.
“You’ve got an entire closet full of clothes in here.”

“I have not. It’s my emergency gear. You
know, if I need a change of trousers, a jacket or a sweater.”

He pulled out a slinky evening dress. “This
is an emergency item?”

Tess snatched the scrap of pale pink silk out
of his hands. “I forgot to take it inside,” she muttered.

“Looks like someone else has things they’d
sooner not share.” He moved a pair of sneakers and grinned. “The
keys to your café wouldn’t have a coffee cup on the tag would
they?”

“You’ve found them?”

He dangled the keys in front of his chest.
“What are they worth?”

The smile fell off Tess’ face. “What do you
mean?”

“Did I tell you I like your buttermilk
pancakes? Especially the ones with bacon and maple syrup.”

It must have been the early morning air, but
Tess felt disappointed that the keys were going to be hers so
easily. Knowing how Logan’s mind worked she’d expected something
more challenging, more daring. “You don’t need to tell me how much
you like pancakes. You eat enough of them to sink a ship.”

“I’m flattered you’ve noticed.” He stepped
forward, until their noses were almost touching. “I’ll trade the
keys for a high stack. Ten pancakes, crispy bacon and a side bowl
of syrup.”

Tess lifted the keys out of his fingers.
“Fine. But unless I get to the store and back in ten minutes you
won’t be eating anything.”

“Do you want me to buy what you need?”

“What do you mean?”

He held out his hand. “Give me your car keys.
I’ll go to Safeway, pick up what you need, then bring it back here.
You can start the other things you need to bake.”

“I don’t…I mean…” Tess looked at him. She was
sure there must have been a catch in his offer somewhere.

“Say, ‘Yes, Logan. You’re such a wonderful
person that I’ll throw in as much coffee as you can drink when you
get back.’”

Tess had never said yes to Logan, and his
sparkling brown eyes and lopsided grin wouldn’t change her mind.
“You need a shave.”

Logan looked down at her mouth. “Say
yes.”

She took a step backward and passed him her
car keys. “Thank you.”

He frowned and dropped the keys to the café
into her outstretched hand. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Wait. I’ll give you some money.”

“You can pay me back later. How much
buttermilk do you need?”

“You’d better buy five cartons. Get the
organic buttermilk. It’s with the other milk at the back of the
store.”

“Organic buttermilk. Five cartons. Anything
else?”

Tess was holding the front door keys so tight
that they dug into her fingers. “Are you sure you want to do this
for me? You’re hot and sweaty. You haven’t warmed down. You’ll get
cramp.”

Logan scowled at her. “I’ll be back
soon.”

And then he folded all six-foot-five inches
of sweaty man into the front seat of her Toyota Corolla. Tess
didn’t hang around to watch him. She had things to do, food to bake
and a coffee machine that needed to be turned on.

***

Logan arrived back at Angel Wings Café not
knowing what to expect. Tess could be so stubborn and annoying. She
drove him insane with the snippy comments that were never far from
her tongue.

But there was something about her, something
that made him want to keep coming back. What he didn’t understand
was why he seemed to be the only person in Bozeman she didn’t like,
but he was going to find out.

He knocked on the front door of the café and
waited. Tess hurried across the room and hauled him inside by the
arm.

“Thank goodness you’re back. The Groovy Grans
will be here in an hour.” She took the grocery bags out of his
hands and walked into the kitchen.

“The Groovy Grans?” Logan followed her. The
ovens were on and it looked as if a batch of scones were already
cooking. She’d been in the middle of making something else. A bowl
of creamy butter sat beside a bag of flour and a carton of
milk.

“Can you pass me one of the small bowls?”
Tess pointed in the general direction of the pantry.

He looked inside and grabbed a bowl. “This
one?”

She nodded and took it out of his hands. “The
Groovy Grans are from Billings. They’re all grandmas who drive
motorcycles. They go on weekend tours. On the first and third
Saturday of each month, they pass through Bozeman for
breakfast.”

“How many are you expecting?”

Tess broke four eggs into the bowl and
started whisking them. “Fifteen.” She took a measuring cup off the
counter and started pouring buttermilk into it. “How good are you
in the kitchen?”

“Depends on what you had in mind?” He tried
not to laugh at the scowl she sent his way.

“Do you know how to use a griddle?”

He looked at the stove and frowned at the
heavy metal pan. “I’ve been running for forty minutes. I’m not
smelling that sweet at the moment.”

“The pancakes won’t care what you smell like.
Wash your hands and I’ll show you how to cook a pancake.”

Tess wiped her hands on her apron and took
something out of a cupboard. She walked toward him with a
determined look in her eyes. “Hold your arms up.”

“What do you…You’ve got to be joking?”

“Up. I’m on a tight time frame.” Tess held
her spray deodorant in front of him.

“It’s pink.”

“Don’t be a wuss. The pancakes might not have
a nose, but I do. Up.”

He stuck his arms in the air and glared at
her. “As long as you know I’m doing this for humanitarian reasons
only. If you tell anyone I put girls’ deodorant on I won’t help in
the kitchen again.”

“The chance of you ever being out here with
me again is almost zilch, so I guess we’re both safe.” She sprayed
the outside of his t-shirt and put the lid on with a self-satisfied
smirk. “Now you smell pretty.”

Logan sniffed the air. “I’m going home for a
shower after I’ve cooked the pancakes.”

“I hope so.” She pulled open a drawer and
took out an apron. “Put this on.”

“Have you always been this bossy?”

“Only when I’m desperate,” she muttered.
“Annie won’t be here for another half hour.”

Annie was Tess’ part-time baker. They’d
worked together for as long as Logan had been in Bozeman.

Tess walked across to the long stainless
steel counter in the middle of the room. “I’ve already put the dry
ingredients in a bowl for the pancakes. I just need to add the
buttermilk, eggs, and melted butter.” She picked up a spoon and
started mixing everything together. She moved across to the stove,
grabbing a stick of butter on the way through. “The griddle’s hot,
so the pancakes can go straight on it. Put a pat of butter in the
pan, then after it’s melted, wipe it around the pan with a paper
towel.”

He pulled a paper towel off the roll and did
what she’d said. “Doesn’t wiping it off defeat the whole purpose of
putting it there in the first place?”

“If you’ve got excess butter in the pan, it
will burn and that gives the pancakes a nasty flavor.” Tess took a
ladle out of a drawer and started spooning pancake batter onto the
griddle. “Half a ladle per pancake is enough. Just pour it on, then
add another one. You should get four pancakes on the griddle at a
time.”

Logan looked over Tess’ shoulder. “The
pancake mixture is lumpy.”

“It’s supposed to be. Small to medium lumps
are your friend. That way the pancakes will be light and fluffy.
After the pancakes are on the griddle add a small handful of
blueberries to the top of each one, like this.” Tess sprinkled
fresh blueberries on the pancakes and reached for a spatula.
“They’ll take about two minutes to cook on the first side and less
on the second.”

“How do I know when to turn them over?”

“Air bubbles should have risen to the surface
and they’ll look a little dry around the edges.”

He watched Tess flip the first batch, then
put them in the oven to keep warm. She handed him the ladle and
smiled. “Don’t look so worried. As long as they don’t burn they’ll
taste great. You do the next batch and I’ll watch.”

Logan felt as if he was going for a job
interview. He poured the batter into the pan, added the
blueberries, then watched them carefully while they cooked. He
never would have thought cooking pancakes could be so stressful. He
slid his first batch into the oven and relaxed.

“Good job,” Tess said. “Let me know when
you’re getting low on batter. I’ll make some more for you.”

He nodded and added more pancake mixture to
the pan. Tess went back to whatever she was making, working with a
quick efficiency that impressed him.

He flipped the pancakes and watched them
rise. “You started work late this morning.”

Tess glanced up from the bowl of ingredients
she was mixing.

Heat hit Logan’s face and it had nothing to
do with the stove. “I run. I notice things.”

Tess grunted and pulled a baking sheet out of
a drawer. She started rolling balls of dough in her hands. “Why do
you run so early?”

Logan opened the oven and put the cooked
pancakes inside. He didn’t feel comfortable talking about the real
reason he ran. Ever since he’d come back from Afghanistan, he
couldn’t sleep, couldn’t forget the images that were stamped on his
brain. He’d written award-winning stories and nearly killed himself
in the process.

Tess was still waiting for a reply, so he did
what he normally did. Answered as close to the truth as he dared to
go. “I wake up early. It keeps me fit.” He sprinkled blueberries on
the next batch of pancake batter and stared at the pan.

The front door banged open. “Sorry I’m late,”
Annie yelled from the front of the café. “How’s your head this
morning?”

A mini tornado of red sweater and jeans
arrived in the kitchen. “Molly didn’t get…” she stopped in the
middle of the room. “Logan? What are you doing here?”

“Tess had an emergency.”

“You’re making pancakes?”

He nodded. “Blueberry.”

Annie looked between them and smiled. “What
do you want me to do?”