Batch Made in Heaven by Suzanne Nelson

Author:Suzanne Nelson [Nelson, Suzanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2021-10-02T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, I was standing in front of A Batch Made in Heaven’s industrial mixer as the eggs and sugar churned into a cheery, creamy swirl in the metal bowl.

“I was talking to my dad and then—wham!—there it was!” I grinned at Flynn, who was sitting on the stool at the kitchen counter. “I had it! The perfect ingredient.” I turned off the mixture and took the chocolate bars and Dad’s spices from my backpack. “My dad’s homemade garam masala spices.”

Flynn raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to use the spices in a cookie recipe?”

The doubt in his voice made me laugh. “No comments until the final taste test.”

He bowed. “Your wish is my command, milady.”

“Ooooh, careful.” I swept past him to scoop some flour from one of the large canisters on the nearby shelf. “I could get used to that.” The euphoria that had swept over me back at home lingered, and I hurried around the kitchen, gathering up ingredients in a flurry of excitement. I added flour, baking powder, cocoa powder, and vanilla into the mixer. I was so absorbed in my tasks that I almost forgot about Flynn’s presence entirely until he broke into laughter, startling me from my focus. I glanced up to find his eyes glinting, and I blushed, wondering how long he’d been watching me.

“You’re practically dancing around the kitchen!” He grinned.

My blush deepened, and an embarrassed giggle popped out of me. “I didn’t even realize … I guess I’m just on a roll.”

“It’s great. You’re totally inspired. I love it when that happens. Or”—he paused—“I used to, anyway.”

I slapped my palms flat onto the counter and leaned toward him with a no-nonsense stare. “Okay. That’s it. I’m tired of your moping. And of you being so convinced that you don’t enjoy baking anymore. What you need … is to fall in love.”

The words hung in the air for a second before the realization of what I’d said—and what it might mean—dawned on me. Flynn’s cheeks turned pink as heat swept across my own face. Oh no! “With baking!” I blurted, my eyes looking everywhere but at him. “You need to fall in love with baking again.” My legs felt like they were puddling onto the floor with humiliation.

“You’re wrong,” Flynn said quietly. “I need to get away from baking and the shop.”

“But baking is part of who you are,” I argued. “Not all of you, but an important piece. You can’t keep denying that.”

“Says the girl who thinks she has all the answers.”

“Maybe not all.” I sighed. “For instance, I have no idea why chocolate chip cookies weren’t invented until the 1930s. I mean, how did people survive before that?”

That made him laugh, and while his guard was down, I took the opportunity to slap a spatula into his hand. I grabbed my phone and turned on my fave baking playlist—a mash-up of upbeat pop songs I loved to sing along to as I baked. Next, I pulled an empty mixing bowl off the counter and launched it like a Frisbee toward Flynn.

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