Chapter 4 — Ryan
Ryan hurried his mother out of the back of the shop and into her car when the bell chimes. "I'll make sure everything is ready for tomorrow. We have a delivery I need to check on before closing."
"Ok and make sure you check the temperatures on the refrigerators before you leave."
"Yes, Mom."
Sarah pulls off and Ryan dashes back inside to the kitchen and onto the shop floor, smiling when he sees Trina waiting at the door. Her laptop bag in one hand and a small Adidas sports bag in the other. Her hair is now in a ponytail.
"Hi Trina," Ryan says, trying to remain cool and collected. "Come on back." He cocks his head towards the doorway and Trina nods following him into the kitchen.
* * *
Stainless-steel benches shine brightly under the strip lights, as do the fronts of the industrial-sized ovens and the row of mixers. To the right, are racks housing every size of cake tin from two-inch dessert rings to 20" squares.
Ryan pulls out a plastic stool from under the island in the middle. The thick marble countertop is cool to the touch and perfect for chocolate and pastry work. Ryan watches enchanted as Trina glides her hand over the polished stone, her finger tracing one of his favorite swirls in the right-hand corner.
Ryan passes Trina an orange apron then instructs her about making the cake leveled, filled, stacked and crumb coated. He answers her questions about flavors and techniques, about where he trained and why.
Trina sneaks a taste of everything Ryan has put into the cake; the raspberry coulis he swirls into the buttercream spread between each layer. Each is faintly flavored with grated lemon zest to bring out the zing in the raspberries that Ryan pulls apart and studs into the pink and white milky way adorning the champagne-colored sponge.
He pinches off a small ball of fondant from the kilogram block he's kneading, making it pliable through the heat of his hands, and gives it to Trina to taste as well. Trina's delighted as she chews on the taster; Ryan's fondant has never had a complaint. Ryan then adds a faint drop of lemon extract to the dough, to offset the sweetness and complement the cake he has so stacked and kneads the fondant further to fully bring out the flavor.
Ryan then dusts the end strip of the marble counter with a small layer of cornstarch—when she asks why he uses it instead of powdered sugar he explains how it's easier to dust off the excess and doesn't dry out the fondant nor mess with the flavor balance. He begins to roll out the fondant, turning the disk between each roll so that it doesn't stick, ensuring an even thickness throughout, and ending with a near-perfect circle ready to be transferred onto the cake.
"Shall we put her name on the cake?" Ryan asks afterward, wandering towards the shelf with the bins filled with cutters and molds.
"Yeah, that would be great," says Trina, moving to join him. He grabs the tin of alphabet cutters and notices that she is reaching up on her tiptoes to get the bin labeled 'Flowers and Butterflies'. He stretches over her to get it.
"And do you want me to make a little animal or something to go on top? To give it a little more dimension and height?"
"That sounds good," Trina says. "Do you have time for that?"
Ryan glances over to the clock—black metal with the numbers and 'Miller' cut out of it—and sees that it's only a quarter past six. "Yeah, I have time. What animal do you think she'd like?"
"Well, Henry and Luna have had a bit of a thing with elephants, so maybe one of those?"
"Great, I love making elephants!" He moves over to the other shelves with the fondant and modeling paste. "So we'll need grey for the elephant. How about this light blue and this egg yolk yellow for the letters and details? We should put some flowers and butterflies around the edge."
"That sounds perfect," Trina says. "They've tried not to be overly pink and girly with her so I know they'll love that."
"I totally get that. I swear, I cringe every time someone comes in and wants to order a gender reveal cake." Ryan rubs at the back of his neck, "I mean, people are perfectly entitled to do whatever they like, but boy equals blue and girl equals pink is so stereotypical before a kid is even born."
"I agree."
They make their way back to the counter and Ryan sets Trina up rolling out some smaller pieces of the colored fondant between two bits of dowel to ensure even thickness and teaches her the easiest way to use the plunger cutters to get clean edges on the letters, butterflies, and daisies. He sets to work on the elephant, stopping as quiet curses and grunts come from Trina, whose talents very clearly lie elsewhere.
"You doing okay there?"
"I really am useless at this," says Trina, dropping the cutter back onto the counter and squishing the droopy daisy back into a small ball.
"Here," Ryan steps over and sets her up with a new piece of fondant that hasn't been overworked to the point of cracking. "You need to keep it moving so it doesn't stick to the surface." He holds the rolling pin out, but she hesitates in taking it.
"Show me," Trina says smiling. Ryan knows she's flirting, and he goes with it, stepping closer and slightly to the side so he's right behind her. He reaches his arms around hers and Trina takes the rolling pin, but he holds on too, whispering instructions into her ear. Ryan sees her head tilted slightly to the side. His lips are close to her neck and she smells so good that he just wants to latch on there.
Then, Trina's phone rings at the other end of the counter causing them to back away from each other. They have been moving the rolling pin back and forth for a few moments without it having any effect, and the fondant was already at the right thickness. Ryan steps back as she moves from the circle, and Trina tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she reaches for her phone. But then she pauses, her hand still outstretched, and her mouth drops when she sees the cake.
"Oh my god, this is amazing!" Trina says, delighted, turning back to him.
"Thanks," Ryan says, rubbing at the back of his neck and smiling as he watches her lean down to inspect the paste elephant more closely, her hands quivering as if eager to touch it but knowing she shouldn't. Trina smiles as she checks her phone and then comes back over and they continue their lesson in cutting out the letters and shapes, though the tension has dissipated a little.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, the cake is finished and they take a step back to survey their work. Trina claps and does a little jump for joy. "This is gorgeous, Ryan, thank you so much!" Before he can brush off her compliment, Trina throws her arms around him, which she pulls away from before he has a chance to savor it. He moves the cake to the turntable on the side bench and Trina follows him, pulling her phone from her pocket, then begins to snap photos of it.
Whilst Trina does this, Ryan sets to work cleaning up the slab, brushing off the corn starch from the counter before filling a bucket that once held a kilo of green dragées with warm soapy water and wiping it down before drying it off. Once it's dry, Ryan cleans it once more, crouching down so the counter is at eye level and he can inspect for any signs that he was here after his mother cleaned it a couple of hours ago. Once he's done, he throws his apron into the pile of laundry in the corner by his backpack.
Ryan passes Trina the box and she slides the cake into it as he stacks up the items they've used and put them back. The basket of raspberries tips over as he opens the fridge, the ruby jewels tumbling silently to the floor. He puts the container of frosting and the rind-less lemons onto the nearest shelf before shutting the door and bending down to pick them up. Once Ryan's down on his knees, he finds himself face to face with Trina, who is already picking up the berries.
"You don't have to," Ryan says, as he scoops a couple, his fingertips are smeared.
"It's fine, don't worry about it," she says, as she reaches for one that rolled a little further away. Ryan watches Trina from the corner of his eye, marveling at how beautiful she looks, with that orange apron on.
Trina hisses suddenly and stands, dropping several of the raspberries as she grabs her calf. Ryan reaches out for her, his hand steadying her leg, her free one coming to rest on his shoulder for support.
"Sorry," she grits out. "Cramps." She rubs her calf, leaving streaks of juice across her skin.
"It'll be okay," Ryan says, aware of how close to her he's kneeling, his hand on the back of her knee.
Trina feels it twitch because suddenly her eyes are on his and she's looking down at him. At first, she seems surprised, and Ryan gulps. But then her gaze becomes charged by something else entirely. Without thinking, Ryan comes upwards and presses his mouth to hers.
Trina's lips taste like raspberries and sugar, a flavor so familiar to him. Ryan runs his tongue along the seam of her lips, their tongues tangling, sighing into the kiss as their hands begin to wander and they shuffle closer together. Their bodies are radiating heat despite the cool temperature inside.
Ryan tugs the tie at the back of Trina's apron and once it's undone, it falls, breaking their kiss for the briefest time to remove it. She huffs before recapturing his lips again.
He creeps his hands towards her buttocks and sinks his fingertips into the flesh, marveling at her impressive muscles squeezing at its firmness.
Trina sighs and she presses closer, one hand running up into his hair as the other fists the front of his chef's jacket. For once the heavy cotton that's so comfortable to wear, feels hot.
"Take it off," Ryan husks out, pulling away from her and pulling open the popper fastening at the neck. Trina's eyes raise and her mouth twitches. Trina darts forwards like a cat swiping at its prey and rips open the rest of the poppers, leaving his jacket hanging open and revealing the sleeveless black shirt he wears beneath. She pulls at that too and he steps forward to reach for her again, their hands roaming contrasting paths across the other's body; hers under his shirt and up across his abs, his traveling down from her waist to the hem of her skirt.
Their lips meet again, almost feral now as they devour each other; more teeth than caressing tongues. Ryan starts to walk them back towards the counter, hands moving further up and under her skirt until they're on her ass again, which is barely covered by her lacy panties that he'd quite like to rip off now. He moves his index finger lightly across her center, Trina's breathing hitches and she lets out a gasp. "Oh, oh!" The sound makes Ryan's erection nearly pierce his boxers open.
Trina pants as Ryan lifts her up on the counter. She encircles her legs around him, her mouth opens feeling his erection at her center against her. She grips his hair tighter, her fingers scratch his scalp most seductively and Ryan nearly comes.
"Do you know that I fell in love with you the moment you walked in?"
The second the words fell from his lips, Ryan was worried he'd said the wrong thing. Trina smiles. "I did too. Now hurry and fuck me before your mother comes," Trina says.
Ryan giggles as they pull off their clothes and get into position.