Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
I glanced at the tempering machine for professionals and couldn’t help but ask, “Why don’t you get that one?”
She sighed dreamily at it. “Oh, it’ll be mine one day. At first, I was thinking I’d get one from a place that only sells to businesses, but Darius compared the prices and quality, and he thinks it’s better I have two of those when I open my shop. Because if one breaks, I’ll have a second that will spare me from any chocolate shortage.”
So, why didn’t she…?
“But it costs twice as much, and it’s huge,” she said. Huge wasn’t the right word; it was the size of a microwave. Although, it was significantly larger than the one she’d budgeted for. “We don’t have the space at home for another appliance to stand on a counter at all hours of the day, so whatever I pick has to be stowed away after I’ve used it.” She quirked a rueful little smile. “I can’t wait to have my own kitchen one day. If Mom’s not at work, she’s in the damn kitchen.” She chuckled at something and shook her head. “Anyway. I’m excited to take this one home.” She beamed to herself and made a move to grab the box, and I acted instinctively and put a hand on her arm.
“You have a birthday coming up in a few months, and I only use my kitchen to reheat Mary’s leftovers and store takeout containers.”
She frowned up at me.
Was I really going with this? Yes. Yes, I was.
“If this is something you’re serious about, I would be happy to help,” I said. “You can use my kitchen whenever you want.”
Her expression belonged to someone who was working hard to solve a math problem.
It was sweet.
“It’s just an offer,” I added. “I’d understand if you’d rather experiment at home—”
“N-no, that’s not it,” she stammered. “I just don’t understand. I can keep the tempering machine at your place? Like, on the counter?”
“Well, sure.” My microwave was built in to the cupboards, and I had an empty space next to the stove. Right now, it was just where I dumped my mail. Then there was the longer counter on the other side of the stove too, of course, but I figured the machine would fit perfectly on the smaller side. “That one.” I pointed to the larger machine for clarification. “I’d buy it for you, and it would be an early birthday present.” Very early, but whatever.
Pipsqueak flushed and broke eye contact as she processed, and I almost felt bad for thwarting her plans with a simple offer. Once she had her mind set on something, she wasn’t the most flexible person.
“Why would you do that for me?” she asked softly.
“Because I care?” I smiled and tilted my head, hoping she’d lift her gaze off the ground soon. “Like I said, I’m impressed by your ideas. You’re so young, and yet you’ve made plans for your future that aren’t just based on dreams. You’ve done your homewor—” I was cut off by her throwing her arms around my middle. I laughed under my breath and hugged her. “Is that a yes?”
She nodded jerkily and hugged me tighter.
It felt good.
“I’m so happy that I wanna bite you,” she croaked.
I grinned and patted her back. “We’ll get you a key so you can come and go as you please.”
The next thing to interrupt us was the sound of Pipsqueak’s snarling stomach.
“Uh, have you eaten yet, hon?” Christ, it was almost nine, and she’d survived on Gatorade, saltines, and PB&J sandwiches.
“I wanted to get the machine.” She sniffled and stepped back, discreetly wiping her cheeks. “I don’t know how to thank you adequately, Mister.”
“By using it a lot.” I reached up on the shelf and grabbed—fuck—the heavy box. What the hell, this had to weigh at least thirty pounds. “All right, let’s get out of here. We need pizza.”
“Here, let me give you the gift cards—”
“Spend that on supplies.” I’d seen the shelves full of accessories and whatnot, so I was sure she’d find a way to use the gift cards.
“Oh my God, it’s too much, Avery.”
“Don’t be silly.” It wasn’t like I had any hobbies to spend money on. Unless my gym membership and mortgage counted. “We’re eating at the pizza place, though. I have a feeling you’ll be distracted by this behemoth as soon as we get back to my place.”
She laughed. “It’s almost like you know me.”
Almost.
“I think this goes here.” I slid the plastic attachment into place along the back of the machine, and I supposed it was some sort of protection—oh. “Wait, now I get it. Yeah, here. The containers where I guess you melt the chocolate—you see the little hooks? It’s so they stay in place.” I showed her rather than explaining further, because I wasn’t sure I understood much of it myself. But it seemed to work. The machine still reminded me of a fryer, only a larger one with two compartments. But it had smaller containers if you wanted to melt four different types of chocolate at the same time. Clever.