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“You’re my favorite.” Beth says, mostly to herself as she sticks a perfect scone into the glass case.
Rio, who’s leaning over the counter with a black book he’s scribbling notes into, looks up, “Are you gonna say that to every scone you put into the case?”
She shrugs her one shoulder, smiling at him with pretty pink lips. “Maybe. You gonna finally teach me the secret for your maple cinnamon glaze?”
He licks his lips and smiles, wide on his face, which just tells her the answer is no.
“Well then, I have no choice than to speak to the pastries and just hope they warm up to me.” Beth closes the glass case and does a mental inventory; they open up in five minutes and she knows how important it is for the pastries to look perfect. Rio might not say anything but those things mean a lot to him.
She passes him, intent on going back into the kitchen. “I just have to grab my apron.”
“It’s bourbon.” Rio says after a moment, not looking at her as he taps his pencil onto the black book.
Beth pauses, one hand on the kitchen door as she looks at his back. “Sorry?”
He sighs like he instantly regrets saying anything, standing straight to address her. “The glaze? It’s bourbon, now stop talkin’ to my pastries like a nut job and get the register ready.”
“Was that so hard?” She points out, a grin on her face as she makes her way back to the kitchen—Rio mumbling under his breath that she’s difficult.