Bread Beignets and Cowboy Boots Page 2

  “I remember. I was so excited to think I could learn from the best. I didn’t know I’d already learned from the best. She asked me to come back for an extended visit after graduation.”

  “She did?” June asked. “I didn’t know that.”

  “She wanted me to teach her some techniques I learned in school. She convinced me I needed to work with her for a month or more, so she had time to learn.” The last few words came out on a sob.

  June placed her glass of tea on the table and joined Felicity by the windows. Taking her in her arms to comfort her, she whispered in her ear. “She would have loved to learn from you. Mom taught you everything she knew. There was so much more for you to learn, and Paris was where you could learn it. She was so proud of you.”

  She held on to her mother. The memory of her grandmother waving goodbye as they called her to board her plane to Paris popped into Felicity’s thoughts. She saw the pride on her grandmother’s face. There was a smile she’d never seen before. Stepping back and looking directly at her mother, Felicity said, “I’m not selling Mr. Rayne Miller my share of Grandma Fe’s bakery. I’m moving back to Texas, and I’m going to make Grandma Fe proud.”

  “That’s the Felicity Mae Fortner I love.” June smiled.

  “Rayne Miller has no idea what he’s in for.” A smile crossed Felicity’s face. She first needed to visit the bakery and see precisely what she needed to bring a little Paris, France, to Paris, Texas.

  CHAPTER 4

  Pulling into the parking lot of Felicity’s Bakery, Felicity noticed a light shining. The bakery was supposed to be closed until next week. There shouldn’t be anyone here. She woke early, her normal time in France, unused to the time change. She was wrong about assuming she would be alone.

  After placing her car in park, she found her key to the bakery and made her way toward the front door. Peering through the glass, she caught Rayne Miller hard at work in the kitchen. His apron covered a t-shirt, which made a point of showing off the perfectly formed muscles in his arms. Thinking he was talking to someone, Felicity soon realized he was singing when he held the end of the rolling pin up to his mouth, using it as a microphone.

  Unlocking the front door, she laughed at what she had witnessed. The image would be stored away and pulled out at just the right time in the future, when she needed some ammunition. She could have used it when they were in school. When he was the jock, all the girls fawned over, invited to all the parties, and she spent evenings either studying or baking with her grandmother, unnoticed by Rayne Miller or anyone else. Right now, she wanted to know exactly what he was doing here when the bakery was closed.

  She made her way around the front counter and to the door of the kitchen without being seen or heard. She leaned against the doorframe and watched the jock who’d turned into a baker sing along with the music.

  “What the hell!” Rayne exclaimed when he caught sight of her. “Where did you come from?”

  She jingled the keys she used to unlock the front door.

  “Of course. I should’ve known you’d have a key to a bakery you own half of.” Rayne continued kneading the dough on the worktable in front of him.

  “What I’d like to know is what you’re doing here when the bakery should be closed.”

  “My job.” Rayne tossed the mound of dough around on the table, his muscles flexing with each move. “I’m filling standing orders the bakery has for bread. The restaurants here in town can’t go without their daily orders.”

  “I wasn’t aware Grandma Fe offered that service.”

  “She didn’t until I came to work for her. I was the one who gave her the idea. Bread is my specialty. White bread, rye bread, wheat bread, sourdough, parker house rolls, you name it.”

  “Focaccia, brioche, baguette …?” Felicity wanted to test his experience.

  “I’ve heard of those, but I haven’t made them.”

  She looked away from the smile on his face and his flexing muscles when he kneaded the dough. It was captivating, in a way. “I guess I have a lot of catching up to do on how the bakery runs.”

  “What are you doing here?” Rayne asked. “I thought you would be with your parents or on your way back to France.”

  “I’m not going back to France.” Felicity offered a reply with a sprinkling of sarcasm thrown in for effect.

  “When did you decide that?” Rayne stopped kneading and looked at her.

  “Last night.” She moved closer to the table. “I’m going to stay here in Texas and do my part to bring a little of my training here.”

  “Don’t you have a job to go back to?”

  She remembered the interview that she’d canceled in order to return for the funeral. “Nothing concrete.”

  Rayne tilted his head and kneaded the dough again. “I’m not sure Paris, Texas is ready for you to bring Paris, France, to town.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The fancy little petit fours you learned to make in your fancy French pastry school. I don’t believe they’ll go over well here. The regular customers at Felicity’s Bakery come for the cinnamon rolls, the cupcakes, the apple fritters, not for finger cakes.”

  The heat of anger was at the core of her body. Crossing her arms in front of her, she asked. “How do you know they won’t like what I offer?”

  “I’ve worked here beside your grandmother since I graduated high school. I think I have a good idea what the regular customers want.” Rayne kept kneading without even glancing at her.

  “I’ve wanted to ask you about that.” Felicity put her hands on the worktable and looked him in the eyes. “Exactly how did you talk Grandma Fe into leaving you half of Felicity’s Bakery?”

  Wiping his hands on the apron he was wearing; Rayne stopped the music playing on his phone and met her gaze. “I don’t appreciate what you’re insinuating, but I’ll give you the benefit of a truthful answer.”

  He reached for his cup of coffee and took a drink before he continued. “I came to work for Ms. Chambers because I wanted to learn. I grew up helping my mother in the kitchen. I’m one of five boys. She needed all the help she could get. You probably remember some of my brothers.” Rayne paused.

  “Not really, but go ahead,” Felicity replied. She remembered Rayne wasn’t the oldest, but she wasn’t sure where he fell in the lineage.

  “My father is from the generation where women do all the work around the house, cooking, cleaning. Being raised on a cattle ranch meant the boys always worked the ranch, and it left my mother to make meals for all of us on a budget. If you’ve never been around when five hungry boys and their father sit down at the table after a day’s work, it’s something you’d have to see. I can’t explain.”

  She moaned as she listened to Rayne’s explanation, wondering when he would get to the point.

  “My mother learned how to stretch a dollar by baking bread and making everything from scratch. She always planted an enormous garden of vegetables that she froze or canned and stored. I helped her bake bread, biscuits, and desserts, and I was good at it. I also enjoyed doing it. We’d make extra money at farmers’ markets selling bread and vegetables, which helped the family out. After high school, I asked your grandmother if I could learn from her and help her. She graciously agreed, and we became friends. She taught me what she knew, and I helped her by getting local restaurants to buy the breads and desserts they needed from her.”

  “All I remember about you was being a jock.” Felicity titled her head, waiting for his reply.

  “Then you really didn’t know me,” Rayne said.

  She looked away so he wouldn’t see the blush dotting her cheeks. She may not have known Rayne Miller back then, but she remembered he was cute and the impact of his smile the rare times he directed it at her.

  “That’s why you’re here today? Filling orders?”

  “Yeah. I can’t let down the people who rely on Felicity’s Bakery to provide their daily supply. I feel a responsibility to them.” Rayne took a drink of his
coffee. “If you don’t mind, I need to get back to it if I’m going to get these done. So, unless you want to help, you’ll have to excuse me.”

  She watched as he tossed the dough around on the table, cutting it in chunks, then placed it in a greased and floured pan to rise, repeating the process until all the dough disappeared. Maybe she was wrong about Rayne Miller’s intentions. Maybe she was right. She needed to see more before she could make that decision.

  CHAPTER 5

  “I’m telling you, Mom, things ran like a well-oiled machine. I didn't know Grandma Fe offered the daily service of making breads for the restaurants in town.” Felicity stirred the sauce simmering on the stove while her mother watched.

  “Mom told me about it when she started the service. She said it was Rayne’s idea. I have to say, your father and I’ve eaten some of the bread he makes when we were out for dinner. It’s delicious.” June rubbed her stomach.

  “Don’t tell me he’s sold you on it too?” Felicity grumbled.

  “I hate to say it, but yes.” June sniffed the sauce simmering. “That smells wonderful.”

  “Thanks. I learned to make it while I was in France. Knowing how to make pasta sauce is a requirement to live there.”

  “It is not.” June popped her on the arm.

  “Back to the bakery.” Felicity picked up her glass of wine from the kitchen island. “I was thinking. What if I let Rayne Miller bake his bread and whatever else he bakes, and I take over the pastry part of the bakery? I can make some of the usual items Grandma Fe always served and add things I like to make that people might enjoy? What do you think of that?”

  June nodded as she took a sip of her wine. “It could work. That way, you could find out what the regular customers like and will try.”

  “Oh, Rayne’s already told me the regular customers will not want to try the fancy finger sandwiches I learned to make at my fancy French school.” Felicity rolled her eyes. “I think that’s what he called them.”

  June covered her mouth as she laughed. “I believe you’ve found a sore spot with Rayne. You might intimidate him.”

  “I never thought of that.” Felicity drank her wine as she let process what her mother said. “I assumed he was just being an ass like most men can how to be.”

  “What’s this about men being asses?” Steve Fortner walked through the kitchen door. “I always seem to get in on the tail end of a delightful conversation.”

  “I didn’t mean you, Dad.” Felicity gave him a hug as he walked up next to her.

  “Whatever that is smells fantastic. What is it?” Steve attempted to sneak a taste before she swatted his hand.

  “It has to simmer. Leave it alone,” Felicity insisted.

  “How long before we get to eat it? I’m starving.” Steve patted his stomach.

  “It won’t be much longer. I just have to drop the pasta and make us a salad.” Felicity opened the refrigerator.

  “Listen to our daughter talk all French chef stuff.” Steve gave his wife a hug. “I remember when we couldn’t get her to clean her room. I’m glad our money went to good use.”

  “You should have been here earlier. We were talking about Rayne Miller.” June winked.

  “That must be the reason for the discussion of men being asses.” Steve held a finger in the air.

  “Come on, Dad. You saw how he acted in the lawyer’s office.”

  “He didn’t act bad,” Steve said. “I thought he was a gentleman.”

  “Gentleman?” Felicity huffed. “You weren’t at the same will reading I was if you think he acted like a gentleman. He acted like it didn’t surprise him Grandma Fe left him half the bakery. I think he had something to do with talking her into it.”

  “You know your grandmother better than that, Felicity. She wouldn’t do anything she didn’t feel was the best for everyone involved. Leaving half the bakery to Rayne doesn’t seem like the best thing for you, but your grandmother had her reasons. We’ll never understand what those reasons are now, unfortunately.” Steve picked up a piece of sliced cucumber and popped it into his mouth.

  “I would think she would have mentioned something to you, Mom. You guys were so close. Grandma Fe told you everything.” Felicity kept slicing cucumbers.

  “I knew about Rayne working there, but I had no clue she changed her will to leave him half the bakery. I planned, like you said, we would sell the bakery when she retired or if something happened to her.” June took salad bowls from the cabinets and placed them on the kitchen island.

  The doorbell ringing stopped the conversation, and Steve left the kitchen to answer the door.

  She looked at her mother. “Are you expecting anyone?”

  “No.” June shrugged.

  Felicity recognized the voice coming from the other room just as her father and Rayne Miller walked through the kitchen door, a bag with a loaf of bread in one hand and his cowboy hat in the other.

  “Look who stopped by.” Steve patted Rayne on the shoulder.

  “I don’t want to interrupt anything. I just wanted to stop by and leave a loaf of sourdough bread for you. I made a few extra today. I was a little distracted.” Rayne looked at Felicity.

  “Thank you, Rayne. That was nice of you. I’m sure it’s delicious.” June took the bread and beamed up at him.

  “Something smells wonderful in here as well.” Rayne pointed to the pot on the stovetop. “I better get going. You are getting ready for dinner.”

  “Why don’t you stay and have dinner with us?” June offered.

  “Oh, I couldn’t. I didn’t stop by for dinner. Only to drop off the bread.”

  Behind the island and out of Rayne’s sight, June kicked her daughter.

  Felicity glared at her mother.

  June narrowed her eyes.

  “We have plenty. Please stay.” Felicity pasted on a smile. “We can have your bread with the pasta.”

  Rayne hesitated. “I guess. If you’re sure it’s all right.”

  “Mom, would you get another salad bowl? I’ll drop the pasta.” Reaching for the pasta on the counter, she dropped a few handfuls into the boiling salted water. Her mother was right. This was a great opportunity.

  In France, she discovered that if you wanted to learn everything important about a person, you dined with them. This was her chance to learn what she wanted about Rayne Miller and see if he changed from the popular jock she remembered from high school.

  CHAPTER 6

  “That was delicious.” Rayne sat back and placed his napkin on the table. “If your pastries are as good as your sauce, they’ll be a success.”

  “Thank you.” Felicity picked up her plate and a few other dishes from the table and carried them to the sink.

  “Let me help you.” Rayne joined her at the kitchen sink, his plate in hand.

  “I can understand why Felicity’s Bakery has such a loyal restaurant customer base. Your bread is probably the best I’ve eaten in a long time.” Felicity rinsed off dishes without looking at Rayne. Why she would expect anything less crossed her mind. With the perfection of her grandmother’s baking, Rayne had to pass her grandmother’s approval before she would hire him to bake bread for her bakery or local restaurants.

  “To be honest, I wanted it to be a peace offering. We got off on the wrong foot. We haven’t had time to get to know each other or spend time together, and now we’re going to run a business together …” Rayne paused. “That is, unless you’ve changed your mind about going back to France.”

  Felicity turned to meet his gaze. “I’m not going back to France. I’m staying here, just like I told you earlier, and bringing my experience to Paris, Texas.”

  “I want to apologize for saying what I did earlier. It wasn’t right of me.” Unsmiling, he looked away, then back at her.

  She didn’t know him well enough, but he seemed genuine. “Apology excepted. I owe you an apology as well. We should start off with a clean slate.”

  “I accept your apology as well. Truce?” Rayne he
ld his hand out for Felicity to shake.

  Wiping her hands on the dishtowel on the counter beside her, she shook his hand. “Truce.”

  “Your grandmother would be thrilled right now.” June walked up behind Felicity with her hands full of dirty dishes. “She wouldn’t have wanted you two fighting if she planned for you to work together.”

  “We weren’t fighting, Mom,” Felicity corrected her. “We disagreed on how the bakery should run.”

  “Your daughter’s right. We need to get to know each other a little better, and we’ll have that chance as we work together,” Rayne explained.

  “If you had the patience to work for my mother, Rayne, you won’t have a problem learning to work with Felicity. They’re birds of a feather.” June placed the dishes she was carrying in the sink.

  “That’s nice to hear. I got along well with Ms. Chambers.” Rayne nodded.

  “See, Mom. Rayne and I will be fine. If he could work for Grandma Fe, then he won’t have a problem working for me.” She smiled at Rayne as he cleared his throat.

  “Working for you?” Rayne asked. “You mean working with you? As a partner. Isn’t that what you mean?”

  “No.” Felicity straightened her posture. “I mean, working for me.”

  “The bakery is half mine. The will was pretty darned clear. Your grandmother specifically said we worked as a team to keep Felicity’s Bakery running and making a profit. How would that make me work for you?” Rayne steadied his gaze.

  “It was my Grandmother Chambers bakery. Felicity’s Bakery. Not Felicity and Rayne’s Bakery,” she explained. “That means you work for me.”

  “Why would you think I would work for you?” Rayne stood with his hands on his hips.

  “One person needs to be in charge. That’s what I learned while I was at Le Cordon Bleu. A good bakery has a chain of command.”