Page 44 of Riding the Curve

I had her in my arms, and I let her slip right through them.

Proof that I wasn’t worthy of her heart either.

CHAPTER 17

Henley

I’m loving every second of working with Harper. Being in the kitchen again reminds me why I love creating edible pieces of art for others to enjoy. Cooking became my love language from the very first moment I made someone smile from tasting my food.

In New York, I rarely got to see the reactions of guests. My place was behind the scenes, cooking and prepping components of the dishes. Once Sadie made me sous chef, she gave me more of the admin, training, and supervision roles. Unlike most sous chefs, I didn’t get a chance to be a part of the creative development of the menus. Sadie always remained in control of that.

Though I loved being in the kitchen, the past couple of years had turned more into a robotic routine. The feeling that cooking had once given me had started to lose its sparkle. Each day felt a little more restrained, and I found myself shoving my creativity down and trying to shape myself more like my boss, Sadie. I had looked up to her for so long, but I’ve come to realize that she isn’t the chef that I want to model myself after any longer.

Now that I’m home, I can feel my creativity stirring within me. Igniting my soul once more and reminding me why I fell in love with cooking and baking in the first place. Being here with Harper, I feel a little bit of my shine returning. When I got in this morning, she put me in charge of the pastries for tomorrow. The buzz of excitement only grew further when I asked her what she wanted me to make and she said, “Surprise me.” I couldn’t tie the apron around me fast enough.

I ended up making a variety of different pastries with the different doughs I’d helped her prep yesterday. With the croissant dough, I made a pistachio and hazelnut Bavarian cream to fill the insides. Using the fresh strawberries delivered from the Donaldson's farm yesterday, I created a strawberry rhubarb tart. For something a little less sweet, I whipped up a vanilla custard to make a crème brûlée danish. To finish off my creations, I decided to add a twist to the cinnamon rolls by creating a vanilla bourbon icing to glaze over the top.

“Well, I’ve decided that I no longer need a man. Nope, I’m entirely content with filling my mouth with these instead for the rest of my days. Tastes better and a lot less work.” Harper hums, licking the icing off one of the vanilla bourbon rolls we took upstairs to eat while we got ready for tonight.

Rolling my eyes, I swipe the roll out of her hands and take a bite.

“Oh, come on, you know it’s true!” Her brows wiggle suggestively.

With a snort, I hand her back the roll and continue pulling on my tan cowboy boots. Tonight calls for something a little more country than Converse.

“Are you sure this dress isn’t too short?” My fingers curl around the hem of the skirt, giving it a firm tug in hopes it’ll get a little longer. Harper forced me to wear one of her dresses. It’s a white strapless dress that flows out at the waist. Blue and green flowers decorate the cotton fabric, looking as though they’d been watercolored directly on it. Truly, it’s stunning. Just meant for Harper’s smaller stature.

Carson would have scolded me for how short the hem of my dress was. Anytime the hem of my clothes went higher than mid-thigh, he’d take it and donate it. The excuse was always something about how it wasn’t proper or demure.

As I fidget in front of Harper's mirror, I can’t shake the feeling like I’m doing something wrong.

“Girl, you look freaking gorgeous. Stop fidgeting!” She grumbles in between bites, slapping my hands away from fidgeting with the dress. “Not my fault you were blessed with the legs of a giraffe, and me with short, squat bird legs.”

Laughter spreads between us as she tugs me to the edge of her bed to finish putting liner on my eyes. After she finishes, I shoot off a text to Em telling him that we are about to head out.

Adjusting the straps of her teal dress, Harper peers over my shoulder and raises a brow. “Things must be going a little better between you two, hmm? Moved out onto his land, now you’re inviting him to girls’ night.” She hums, tapping a finger against the side of her cheek. “Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to tell me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. He needs help and I need a bed.” I shrug nonchalantly, knowing deep down inside there is absolutely something beginning to brew again between us.

“You need a bed for sure . . . an Emerson-shaped one.”

“That’s not true!” I gasp, mouth gaping wide.

“Uh-huh. Just keep telling yourself that, bestie.” She slips on a pair of white ankle boots. The gentle chime of my phone makes my heartbeat pick up pace.

EM: We’ll head over in just a little bit.

ME: We?

The dots roll back and forth as I hold my breath. He wouldn’t bring a date with him, would he?

EM: I’m waiting on your brother. He’s just taken a shower, then we’ll ride over together.

I release my breath and send a thumbs up emoji back before tossing my phone beside me.

“Em’s coming and he’s bringing Ryleigh along,” I say.

A crash and a few curses fly out of the bathroom.