work off the cover that covered the mixer’s motor. ‘Hell, look at this motor! It’s leaking oil...it’s clogged up...when was this damn thing last serviced?’
Ellie, who thought that Jack wouldn’t appreciate hearing that she hadn’t the faintest clue, decided to scarper while she could and left Jack cursing to himself.
FOUR
Elias laughed when Jack messed up the traditional African handshake—again—and slapped him on the shoulder. ‘We’ll teach you yet, mlungu .’
‘Ma-lun-goo?’ Jack tested the word out on his tongue.
‘“White man” in Xhosa,’ said the old Xhosa baker.
‘Ah.’ Jack stared at Elias and a slow grin crossed his face. ‘I heard you talking Xhosa earlier. I love the clicking sound you make. If I were staying I would want to learn Xhosa.’
‘If you stay...’ Elias grinned ‘...I teach you.’
‘There’s a deal,’ Jack said, before bidding him goodnight and turning back to the rear entrance of the bakery.
Ellie looked up as he walked towards her and ran the back of her hand over her forehead. ‘Bet you’re regretting ambling down the hill this morning,’ she said with a grateful smile.
‘It’s been an...interesting day,’ Jack said, conscious of a dull headache behind his eyes. ‘A baptism by grease, flour, sugar and baking powder...’
‘I never expected you to help with either the fixing or the mixing, but thank you.’
He’d resurrected one of the mixers, and when a part arrived for the other mixer in the morning he’d have that up and running within an hour. While he’d been working on the mixers he’d watched Elias and his assistant falling further and further behind on the orders, and had instantly become their best friend when he’d got the one mixer working.
‘Elias really battled physically to do that hand-mixing.’
Ellie cocked her head. ‘So that’s why you stepped in to help him?’
He shrugged. ‘I thought he was going to have a heart attack,’ Jack admitted.
He’d mixed the batter for more than a hundred and twenty cupcakes and, under Elias’s beady eye, also mixed the ingredients for two Pari’s Paradise Chocolate cakes and more than a few vanilla sponge cakes. His shoulders ached and his biceps were crying out for mercy...
‘He’s stronger than he looks. He should’ve retired years ago, but he doesn’t want to and I can’t make him.’ Ellie sighed. ‘He’s worked here since the day the bakery opened. It’s his second home, and as long as he wants to work I’ll let him. But maybe I should try to sneak in another assistant.’
‘Sneak in?’
‘It took me six months to get him to accept Gideon in his space.’ Ellie grinned. ‘He’s a wonderful old gent but he has the pride of Lucifer. I’m surprised he let you do anything.’
‘Yeah, but I did get his beloved mixer working.’
‘That you did,’ Ellie agreed. ‘And I’m so grateful. You worked like a dog today.’
Which raised the question... why had he bust his gut to help this woman he barely knew? He was an observer, not a participator, and her bakery wouldn’t have gone into bankruptcy if they’d waited for a mechanic to fix the mixers. But he’d felt compelled to step up and get stuck in, to help her, to...
Aargh! He must have taken a blow to the head along with the stabbing and the beating, because this wasn’t how he normally rolled.
Jack, frustrated at not recognising himself, thought that he’d kill for a beer or two. He stood next to Ellie’s table and leaned his shoulder against a wall, watching her work. She’d been in the bakery for nearly twelve hours and she was still working on another cake. The nightshift of two more bakers were starting their shift and Ellie would probably be there to see them off in the morning.
She might tend to panic when she hit a snag but he admired her work ethic.
And her legs... Who would’ve thought that a chef’s jacket over shorts and long tanned legs could look so sexy? Jack swallowed, uneasy at the
Ellie, who thought that Jack wouldn’t appreciate hearing that she hadn’t the faintest clue, decided to scarper while she could and left Jack cursing to himself.
FOUR
Elias laughed when Jack messed up the traditional African handshake—again—and slapped him on the shoulder. ‘We’ll teach you yet, mlungu .’
‘Ma-lun-goo?’ Jack tested the word out on his tongue.
‘“White man” in Xhosa,’ said the old Xhosa baker.
‘Ah.’ Jack stared at Elias and a slow grin crossed his face. ‘I heard you talking Xhosa earlier. I love the clicking sound you make. If I were staying I would want to learn Xhosa.’
‘If you stay...’ Elias grinned ‘...I teach you.’
‘There’s a deal,’ Jack said, before bidding him goodnight and turning back to the rear entrance of the bakery.
Ellie looked up as he walked towards her and ran the back of her hand over her forehead. ‘Bet you’re regretting ambling down the hill this morning,’ she said with a grateful smile.
‘It’s been an...interesting day,’ Jack said, conscious of a dull headache behind his eyes. ‘A baptism by grease, flour, sugar and baking powder...’
‘I never expected you to help with either the fixing or the mixing, but thank you.’
He’d resurrected one of the mixers, and when a part arrived for the other mixer in the morning he’d have that up and running within an hour. While he’d been working on the mixers he’d watched Elias and his assistant falling further and further behind on the orders, and had instantly become their best friend when he’d got the one mixer working.
‘Elias really battled physically to do that hand-mixing.’
Ellie cocked her head. ‘So that’s why you stepped in to help him?’
He shrugged. ‘I thought he was going to have a heart attack,’ Jack admitted.
He’d mixed the batter for more than a hundred and twenty cupcakes and, under Elias’s beady eye, also mixed the ingredients for two Pari’s Paradise Chocolate cakes and more than a few vanilla sponge cakes. His shoulders ached and his biceps were crying out for mercy...
‘He’s stronger than he looks. He should’ve retired years ago, but he doesn’t want to and I can’t make him.’ Ellie sighed. ‘He’s worked here since the day the bakery opened. It’s his second home, and as long as he wants to work I’ll let him. But maybe I should try to sneak in another assistant.’
‘Sneak in?’
‘It took me six months to get him to accept Gideon in his space.’ Ellie grinned. ‘He’s a wonderful old gent but he has the pride of Lucifer. I’m surprised he let you do anything.’
‘Yeah, but I did get his beloved mixer working.’
‘That you did,’ Ellie agreed. ‘And I’m so grateful. You worked like a dog today.’
Which raised the question... why had he bust his gut to help this woman he barely knew? He was an observer, not a participator, and her bakery wouldn’t have gone into bankruptcy if they’d waited for a mechanic to fix the mixers. But he’d felt compelled to step up and get stuck in, to help her, to...
Aargh! He must have taken a blow to the head along with the stabbing and the beating, because this wasn’t how he normally rolled.
Jack, frustrated at not recognising himself, thought that he’d kill for a beer or two. He stood next to Ellie’s table and leaned his shoulder against a wall, watching her work. She’d been in the bakery for nearly twelve hours and she was still working on another cake. The nightshift of two more bakers were starting their shift and Ellie would probably be there to see them off in the morning.
She might tend to panic when she hit a snag but he admired her work ethic.
And her legs... Who would’ve thought that a chef’s jacket over shorts and long tanned legs could look so sexy? Jack swallowed, uneasy at the
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