Chapter 2

A small cough sounded. It was definitely not Oliver because I would have heard and felt it against my ear. Plus, it was too high and girly to be from Oliver, who’s husky voice was so much deeper. Before Oliver could react, I ripped my hands out of the dough and whipped around. This, as it turned out, was a bad idea because having Oliver right behind me, I turned into him. The odd turn put me off balance. To brace myself, I spread my hands across Oliver’s chest, whipping dough off on his apron.

Oliver smiled down at me and said, “That’s what the aprons for.” I let out a small laugh before I remembered why I had turned around in the first place. My head pulled around the side of Oliver, to look behind him. Standing there, hands on hips, was a woman with jet black hair and eyes. Her skin was beautifully deep. Her dark eyes were slits. Slowly, Oliver turned around to face the woman.

A small smile spread across his face before he said, “Oh, hello there Charlotte. Meet Rochelle Mckenzie.”

Charlotte’s face visibly softened at my name and said, “Oh, how nice to meet you Rochelle.” I gave her a shy smile.

“She and I were just making the dough for the sugar balls,” Oliver explained. I was momentarily thrown.

I half turned to the right so I could somewhat see Oliver and asked, “That glob turns into The Sugar Balls?” When Oliver nodded, an amused look on his face, I countiuned, “I never would have guessed.”

I turned back to Charlotte; she was smiling. With long strides, Charlotte walked over to me, till we were almost nose to nose.

“Nice to meet you, Rochelle, I hope you are enjoying your sugar ball making.” All I could do was nod. “Well, I’ll leave you to that.” And she turned on her heal and went out the swinging door. I glanced up at Oliver, who was smiling after Charlotte. His eyes flickered down to mine. His stare brought color to my cheeks and I looked away.

There was a moment of silence before Oliver said, “Ready to turn this blob into balls?”A rare broad smile spread across my face as I nodded. Oliver turned, a smile on his face, back towards the dough. I followed close behind. Oliver was shaking a metal tin, the contents moving too fast for me to really tell what it was. Feeling akward, I stood there, staring at the corner of the table.

Over the din of whatever was being shaken, Oliver’s voice rang out. “Will you just roll the dough into little balls?”

“Sure,” I said, thankful for something to do. I grabbed a small amount of dough and rolled it around between both my palms. When the dough in my hands had turned into a small, I held it up for Oliver’s inspection.

His trademark smile spread across his face as he said, “Perfect. Just put it on that pan.” He motioned with his head towards a small silver cookie sheet. Tenderly, I placed the dough ball on the sheet and turned back to the glob. Rolled ball after rolled ball, I make and put on the sheet. Only after I’ve made 3 dozen little balls and filled the sheet, does Oliver say anything.

“Thank you,” he says. I smile at him, thinking how green his eyes look in the late afternoon light. Afternoon light? I feel the smile slide from my lips. Whipping around, I frantically grab a glance at the clock: 5:35. Shoot! I really have to go, I’m gonna be late! My stomach knots at what I’m going to be late to, but I can’t think of that now; I have to get out of here!

“I...I...I have to go,” I stutter.