Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
I forget all about my relationship issues. “What? You weren’t supposed to be eating that! It’s for the customers.”
“Maybe we just save the stuff that’s less delicious for the customers,” he says with a shrug. He takes the oil over to the fryer and plugs the canister in, turning it in the slot until the seal hisses and a light chirps acknowledgment. “Did you eat any of it, Ruth? It will change your life.”
“Well, now I want some,” Ruth says, peeling off her meat-greasy gloves. “And someone else needs to take over these hamburger patties. The smell is making me nauseous.”
“I’ll do it,” I grumble, switching places with her. “And have a small slice. Small,” I repeat, when Zaemen grins widely. “We’ll go broke if you eat half the food every night.”
“Me?” he says innocently. “I would never.”
Ruth just snorts and picks up the cake knife, cutting a small corner off.
The topic of Simone drops, and I’m relieved. I pull the collar of my oversized borrowed tunic up a little higher, and breathe in the scent of my lover’s soap, and it’s almost as good as being in bed with her again.
Almost.
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Weeks Later
SIMONE
I consider the spices I have on the counter, trying to decide which combination will surprise Ruth-Ann. Our flavoring game continues, and it grows trickier to “fool” her each time. I’m down to some of the stinkier herbs which can’t be disguised when they’re baked, and I don’t want to waste food. I always set aside a small bit of dough for her cookie surprise, but if my trick doesn’t turn out, it’s disappointing.
Maybe I need to hide something inside the cookie. We’d tried the other day to make filled cupcakes, but the dough here isn’t wheat-based and is a little more spongy. Cutting out the middles to put a filling means that the entire thing collapses a few minutes later, and a bunch of collapsed cupcakes don’t sell well. But I could hide something in a cookie, I think. Do I have anything like a clove of garlic?
I glance down at Pluto. “What do you think, bubba? Veggies? Meat?”
He noses my knee and puts his paw on my shoe.
“You’re right. Pickles it is.”
Snickering to myself, I just manage to hide a chunk of sour, pickled root into eight dough balls before a yawning Ruth-Ann shuffles into the kitchen. She approaches me, arms out, and hugs my waist, leaning against my arm.
“Morning, sunshine,” I say, chuckling.
She groans and shuffles on to the shower. Poor baby. The cantina has been a wild success since it opened, but the staff is barely able to keep up with demand. They’re going to have to hire help, but until they do, it’s late nights for all of them. My sweet girlfriend is a bit of a control freak and so she gets there early and stays until closing. Of course then she comes home to me, and we cuddle and talk and make love…and as a result, she’s coasting on less than four hours of sleep.
While she gets ready for the day, I feed Pluto his breakfast and ice the sheet cake I’ve made for her. The honey cake with the cheese frosting has been a huge success, and Ruth-Ann makes one every day for the cantina and she insists on paying me. Not just for the ingredients, but for “use of the recipe”. It’s not necessary, but it does help with my savings, so I take it every time.
Business has been booming ever since Ruth-Ann started helping me with my recipes. Not that things weren’t good before, but I’ve noticed that my regulars are buying even bigger orders, and that things sell out quicker than before. I’ve been slowly increasing the amount I bake, with a few more batches crafted in the evening so I can pop them in the oven in the morning, but I’ve run out of room. I need more counter space, more refrigeration, another oven, and just more everything.
It makes me wonder if I should approach the Custodians in town about the potential of getting a house built nearby. I don’t want a farm, because that’s just a lot of added effort. But a cute little bungalow on the outskirts of the buildings here? With a large kitchen and a bedroom big enough for Ruth-Ann and me to have a queen-sized bed? That’s the dream. I figure money talks, so I’ve been putting aside all my extra credits.
After all, Ruth-Ann can’t stay on the ship forever. Ships are meant to sail, and they’ve hinted that while the Scarlet Gaze has been docked for a while, it’s not a permanent thing. Eventually it’ll head back out into space. Some of the crew is going to stay behind, and some are leaving with it.
I should ask about her plans. I consider this as I put the last tray of cookies—the trick ones—into the oven. I’d assumed she’d be staying behind to be with me, but I’ve never asked.