Read Online Bachelor at Her Bidding (Bachelor Auction Book 2) by Kate Hardy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kate Hardy
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lovely, Rachel Cassidy. Don’t let anyone ever make you think otherwise. Your ex was a grade A idiot and you deserve a lot better than him.”
And Ryan was the kindest man she’d ever met, apart from her father and her brother. “Thank you.”
“And I’m sorry things can’t be different.”
So was she. “It’s the wrong time – for both of us – and we just have to accept that.” She picked up a dish towel. “At least let me dry up. Or are you funny about other people touching your work stuff?”
“It’s not that,” he said, taking the dish towel from her. “But it’s your birthday and, as I said before, in my rule book you don’t do chores on your birthday. Sit down and eat chocolate instead. Chef’s orders.”
When he put it like that, what else could she do?
When he’d finished drying up his kitchen equipment and packed it away in the boxes, she said, “Thank you for tonight. For all of it.” She paused. “And if I get interviewed for the Copper Mountain Chronicle about our date, then I’ll talk about your food and only your food. Well, and obviously Josh and Molly.”
“Sounds good.” He kissed her cheek. “Well. I’d better get back to Gram. See you around. And enjoy the rest of your birthday weekend.”
“Thank you.” She smiled at him. “See you around.”
She forced herself not to watch him from the window as he drove away. Just good friends was the only real option they had. She’d made enough mistakes in the past, and she wasn’t going to compound them by wishing for something she couldn’t have.
“If only” were the saddest words in the world. And Rachel Cassidy had no intention of being sad anymore.
Chapter Five
‡
R yan couldn’t get Rachel out of his head. That sweet, shy smile. The look of wonder in her blue, blue eyes. The way she cried out when she came.
He spent half of Sunday morning trying and failing to stop thinking about her, and then he ended up doing what he always did when he didn’t want to let himself think – he headed for the kitchen. As he beat the choux pastry with a wooden spoon, he kept telling himself, “She’s just a friend. Just a friend. Not a lover. Just a friend.”
If he repeated it enough, maybe his head would get the message. And his libido was just going to have to put up with it.
By lunchtime, he had a pile of profiteroles filled with crème pâtissière. It was a while since Ryan had made a French-style celebration cake, but he dipped the little cream puffs in caramel before placing them on a dish in a circle, and building up the layers to make a pyramid. Finally he dipped two forks into the caramel, held them together for a few seconds and then pulled them wide apart to make thin strands, which he wrapped around the pyramid so it looked as if it sat within a gossamer cage. Then he decorated the whole thing with gold-colored candied almonds to make a perfect French croquembouche .
And of course you would make a birthday cake for a friend, he told himself. It was nothing to do with trying to impress Rachel. He wasn’t interested in a relationship with anyone. Including a petite, shy, pretty doctor who made him feel all kinds of things he really didn’t have time to feel.
“That’s pretty,” Phyllis said, walking into the kitchen and seeing what he was working on. “Is that for us?”
“No, it’s for a friend,” Ryan said. “Though I have a few spare profiteroles, so I can make another one for us if you like.”
“No, that’s fine, honey. You don’t have to go to all that trouble.” His grandmother smiled at him. “But I’m glad you’re still doing the kind of baking you did in France. I still feel bad that you’ve come back to Marietta for my sake. I can look after myself, you know.”
“I know,” he fibbed. They both knew that Phyllis forgot a few too many things nowadays to be able to look after herself. Plus she’d had a couple of falls recently, which had shaken her up. He was much happier
And Ryan was the kindest man she’d ever met, apart from her father and her brother. “Thank you.”
“And I’m sorry things can’t be different.”
So was she. “It’s the wrong time – for both of us – and we just have to accept that.” She picked up a dish towel. “At least let me dry up. Or are you funny about other people touching your work stuff?”
“It’s not that,” he said, taking the dish towel from her. “But it’s your birthday and, as I said before, in my rule book you don’t do chores on your birthday. Sit down and eat chocolate instead. Chef’s orders.”
When he put it like that, what else could she do?
When he’d finished drying up his kitchen equipment and packed it away in the boxes, she said, “Thank you for tonight. For all of it.” She paused. “And if I get interviewed for the Copper Mountain Chronicle about our date, then I’ll talk about your food and only your food. Well, and obviously Josh and Molly.”
“Sounds good.” He kissed her cheek. “Well. I’d better get back to Gram. See you around. And enjoy the rest of your birthday weekend.”
“Thank you.” She smiled at him. “See you around.”
She forced herself not to watch him from the window as he drove away. Just good friends was the only real option they had. She’d made enough mistakes in the past, and she wasn’t going to compound them by wishing for something she couldn’t have.
“If only” were the saddest words in the world. And Rachel Cassidy had no intention of being sad anymore.
Chapter Five
‡
R yan couldn’t get Rachel out of his head. That sweet, shy smile. The look of wonder in her blue, blue eyes. The way she cried out when she came.
He spent half of Sunday morning trying and failing to stop thinking about her, and then he ended up doing what he always did when he didn’t want to let himself think – he headed for the kitchen. As he beat the choux pastry with a wooden spoon, he kept telling himself, “She’s just a friend. Just a friend. Not a lover. Just a friend.”
If he repeated it enough, maybe his head would get the message. And his libido was just going to have to put up with it.
By lunchtime, he had a pile of profiteroles filled with crème pâtissière. It was a while since Ryan had made a French-style celebration cake, but he dipped the little cream puffs in caramel before placing them on a dish in a circle, and building up the layers to make a pyramid. Finally he dipped two forks into the caramel, held them together for a few seconds and then pulled them wide apart to make thin strands, which he wrapped around the pyramid so it looked as if it sat within a gossamer cage. Then he decorated the whole thing with gold-colored candied almonds to make a perfect French croquembouche .
And of course you would make a birthday cake for a friend, he told himself. It was nothing to do with trying to impress Rachel. He wasn’t interested in a relationship with anyone. Including a petite, shy, pretty doctor who made him feel all kinds of things he really didn’t have time to feel.
“That’s pretty,” Phyllis said, walking into the kitchen and seeing what he was working on. “Is that for us?”
“No, it’s for a friend,” Ryan said. “Though I have a few spare profiteroles, so I can make another one for us if you like.”
“No, that’s fine, honey. You don’t have to go to all that trouble.” His grandmother smiled at him. “But I’m glad you’re still doing the kind of baking you did in France. I still feel bad that you’ve come back to Marietta for my sake. I can look after myself, you know.”
“I know,” he fibbed. They both knew that Phyllis forgot a few too many things nowadays to be able to look after herself. Plus she’d had a couple of falls recently, which had shaken her up. He was much happier
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