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Stepping into a swirling storm of sugar, two minutes past five in the morning, would have amused Patrick Jane to no end. Both of his pastry chefs coated from head-to-toe in white, each clutching a bit of the ingredient sack while sugar coated the floor and counters.
However, Teresa Lisbon wasn’t Patrick Jane.
“You both realize sugar doesn’t grow on trees, right?” Lisbon snapped, whilst the sugar swirled around her; white clinging to her black slacks and dark hair, pulled back into a tight ponytail.
Van Pelt, at the very least, had the decency to appear sheepish. “Sorry, Lisbon.” Rigsby said nothing for a moment, before he turned to toss his half of the ingredient sack into the garbage can.
“We…”
Lisbon pinched the bridge of her nose, before she grabbed at the broom and dustpan nearby. “Here.” She shoved them toward Rigsby with a grimace. “I don’t care why or how it happened. Just clean this up.” He nodded as she turned from him, her bag on her arm, toward the small office she shared with Jane.
Unsurprisingly the office door was open and the lights were on.
“You’ve got a bit of sugar on your person, Lisbon,” Jane said in-greeting, as she put her belongings down on her desk—only to find him on his couch, because Jane didn’t believe in working behind a desk. She grimaced at him. “I take it that all of that yelling and excitement was Rigsby and Van Pelt, decorating themselves and our kitchen for the morning rush?”
“You’d think they would know better,” Lisbon muttered, ignoring Jane’s question. Rigsby had been with them since practically the start; his love for everything edible made him perfect for their little hole-in-the-wall bakery, The Couch. Van Pelt, Lisbon supposed, could be given a slight benefit of the doubt as the redhead hadn’t been with them too long. But still, they weren’t a bunch of toddlers.
“Rigsby fancies her, Lisbon. Haven’t you ever had a crush you wanted to impress?” Jane asked her, dismissing her frustrations. Lisbon said nothing, because she hoped he was wrong. The last thing their bakery needed was a pair of horny chefs, necking whilst they sullied the sanctity of her kitchen. “You know I’m never wrong.”
Lisbon rolled her eyes. “Don’t you have some work to do?”
Jane flashed his teeth toward her. “You mean, this isn’t our weekly annoy the co-proprietor meeting?” She narrowed her eyes and in turn, he stood from his couch and stretched. “How about I go pick up a few bags of sugar?”
“I think that’s the most promising idea you’ve had in a long while, Jane,” Lisbon remarked dryly, as she logged into the office computer. Jane chuckled, forcing her to eye him again. “You’re still here?”
Jane only smiled.
::::
By the time Jane returned with several pounds of sugars and a small container of fresh strawberries for Lisbon, Cho had already served the first customers of the day with his usual brand of optimism.
“Good morning, Cho.” Cho nodded at him from behind the counter, which Van Pelt and Rigsby had filled with a variety of confectionary goods. He couldn’t contain his smile at the sight of Van Pelt’s pumpkin-gingersnap confection, which had already garnered a few takers and from Cho’s stoic expression, he could tell the man had enjoyed his own sample that morning.
Of course, it still amused him to no end that Lisbon had been reluctant to hire Cho as the person behind their counter. She had said something about his lack of his expression being too intimidating, but Jane had thought the man to be outspoken—and apparently, so did the customers as they kept on returning.
(Besides, Cho also kept some of Rigsby’s most interesting creations from ever seeing the light of day—something even Lisbon could appreciate.)
Stepping past Cho, who had his hands full with another customer, Jane pushed his way into the kitchen. Rigsby and Grace had mostly cleaned the kitchen to Lisbon’s standard, however, their aprons and faces still held traces of the sugar from earlier. Leaning in, as he dropped one of the sugar bags onto the counter, he asked the million-dollar question.
“So, who won?”
Rigsby’s impish smile told him he had won, but Grace’s bright smile told him that Rigsby had handed it to her. Jane couldn’t contain his own joy as he patted Rigsby on the shoulder. He’d seen many a meet-cute during his time as owner of The Couch, and he’d come to learn he just had a sixth sense for matchmaking.
“How angry is Lisbon?” Grace asked, interrupting his thoughts as she continued to knead the pastry dough with her hands. Jane chuckled to himself.
“No angrier than the time I actually dropped an extra ‘0’ on our blueberry shipment.” Rigsby twitch told him that Rigsby hadn’t quite forgiven him for that mishap either, considering the man’s hands had been blue for nearly two weeks afterwards. “Besides, a little extra sugar hurt no one.” Making a point, he grabbed at one of Rigsby’s cooling pastries and stuffed the confection—powdered sugar covering his fingers and lips—into his mouth before anyone could tell him no. “Mmm. Chocolate. My second favorite.”
He heard Grace’s chuckle and Lisbon’s approaching footsteps, which forced him to turn and greet his partner with the largest grin.
“I see he’s been sampling the product again,” Lisbon dryly commented and Jane tried his best to look innocent. “Yeah, I’m innocent doesn’t work when you’re covered in powdered sugar.” He watched as she stepped closer to him, before she moved her thumb to brush across his bottom lip. “Hopefully, you’ll save some for our actual paying customers.”
“I can’t make any promises,” Jane added, still grinning.
::::
Grace couldn’t help but smile at the sweet interaction between Jane and Lisbon. She doubted that they realized it, but they were practically married. Wayne had warned her, after Lisbon had welcomed her aboard, that the bosses enjoyed flirting with one another; and that while he and Cho had a sinking suspicion that something was going on behind closed doors, they’d never been able to prove it.
Of course, how could they prove it?
In the six weeks she’d been there, she had come to learn that Lisbon was an extremely private individual. Jane, on the other hand, kept his own life close to the vest. Any suspicion of a budding romance between the two proprietors would only be speculation, until Jane or Lisbon made the first outing move.
Pigs will fly first, Grace thought with a soft hum as she turned to one of the refrigerators.
“I think you’ve gotten yourself a fan out of Cho, Grace,” Jane told her, after Lisbon had removed the evidence from Jane’s lips with her fingers. Grace grinned to herself, as she removed the tray of diced mangoes from the refrigerator. “He wouldn’t stop raving about your pumpkin gingersnap creation this morning.” She heard Lisbon’s snort. “Now, Lisbon. Why do you continue to doubt me?”
“Because you’re so full of it.”
Grace chuckled. “How do you know?”
Lisbon side-eyed her. “How do I not know he’s full of it, would be the better question.”
“I just know, Grace,” Jane replied, as he plucked the cooling tray of pastries from the counter. Lisbon shot him a warning glare and he smiled at her. “Only delivering these onto the floor, Lisbon. I wouldn’t dare sample more than one.” He paused and leaned into Grace, who had returned to prepping her second batch of mango-filled pastries for the day, as he whispered into her ear. “On her watch, anyway.”
Coughing to hide her laugh, Grace tried to ignore Lisbon’s eye roll with an innocent grin of her own.
::::
The thing about Patrick Jane, Cho had decided from early on, was that you loved to hate him. Jane had a charm and a wit about him that made him so ridiculously charming, which forced Cho to question his own sanity for remaining with Jane and Lisbon for the past five years. Or maybe, even question Lisbon’s sanity for her decision to remain steadfast with Jane—who was clearly a little off his rocker.
In-between serving customers and bussing tables, Cho overheard Jane’s bantering with his regular customers. He’d come to learn that Jane enjoyed play-flirting with Madeleine and that, if it wasn’t too busy, he’d strike up an argument with Gale. He’d also annoy Luther to no end and Lorelei always found time to be at the bakery between 10:45 and 11:30 in the morning to converse with Jane.
Not that it mattered, but Cho thought Lorelei had a thing for Jane.
He heard the front door open and he called out with his usual salutation of good morning.
When he had first started, Lisbon had suggested he greet customers with a smile. He had gone an entire twenty minutes, before he had made someone cry.
After that, Lisbon had been more than happy to let him do it his way.
“Hello, Kimball,” Summer greeted, smiling widely, as she plopped her handbag down on the pristine counter. Cho inclined his head in greeting. “What’s good today?”
“According to Jane,” Cho replied, as he twisted to grab a lemon scone from the display case. “Everything’s good here.” He plated the scone, before he faced Summer again.
“Mr. Jane doesn’t lie.” Summer grinned.
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Cho warned her lowly, as she handed him a five-dollar bill. “The last time someone complimented him, on something other than his fashion sense, he ordered himself a plaque for the back office.” Summer chuckled and when he started to calculate her change within the register, she waved him away.
“Keep the change, Kimball,” Summer told him, brightly, before she added, “thank you!” She removed her plate from the counter and retreated to her usual spot, the table adjacent to the counter.
“You keep charming yourself into the hearts of women, you might get that raise from Lisbon after all.”
Cho eyed the blonde, who had unfortunately returned after ‘entertaining’ the bakery’s lucky patrons. “If I pointed out each time you’ve flirted with Lisbon, I’d be just as annoying as you.”
Jane eyed him, his lips quirked into a half-smile. “Touché.”