Until December (Until Her/Him #8)(44)

“It says you need to mix the eggs and butter together then add in sugar, vanilla, and salt.”

“Perfect, here’s the measuring cup.” I hand it to him and he looks at it. “I’ll grab the eggs while you measure out the butter.”

“How much butter?”

“What does the recipe call for?” I stop at the fridge and look at him.

“One and a half cups.”

“And since we’re doubling the recipe, how much do we need?”

“Three.”

“See? You got this down already,” I say, and he smiles brightly. “How many eggs do I need?”

He looks at the recipe. “Four.”

“Great.” I grab four eggs while he dumps the butter into the metal mixer bowl, and then I hand them over for him to crack. By the time we have the first five ingredients in the mixer, he’s a pro and completely at ease. “What’s next?”

“Flour,” he says, and I grab my flour canister from the counter and watch him measure out the first cup. I start to tell him that we have to shut off the machine before we add it, but he dumps it in, and flour hits the wire beater and flies everywhere. Gareth jumps from where he’s been sitting and shuts off the machine before I can.

“Oh my.” I look at Max and then down at myself. We are covered in flour, and there is still more falling to the floor like snow.

“I’m so sorry,” Max whispers. I blink at him, seeing only his green eyes. The rest of him is covered in a thin layer of white dust.

“You…” I giggle then start to laugh so hard I double over. I stand and point at him. “You… You should see your face right now.” I laugh harder and hear him start to laugh as well. “I should… I should have mentioned turning the machine off.” I continue to laugh then attempt to swipe the flour off the front of me, which causes a plume of it to fly out, making me giggle once more. “I think…” I snort, looking around. “I think we need to take a picture. My sisters will get a kick out of this.” I start to walk to the door so I can go get my cell, but Gareth grabs my hand and pulls me up short. “I need my phone,” I tell him, tipping my head back to catch his eye.

“I’ll get it for you. Where is it?”

“I can get it,” I try again, and he shakes his head then looks behind me. I follow his gaze and see I’m leaving a trail of flour in my wake. “Oh, maybe you should get it. It’s in my purse.” His eyes warm, and I swear he’s going to kiss me, but instead his fingers squeeze mine and he lets me go.

“Are the cookies ruined?”

I turn to face Max and find him looking into the mixing bowl.

“Nope.” I walk toward him. “We just need to guess how much flour actually made it in the bowl then add in the rest.”

“Cool.” His eyes are dancing with laughter when he turns to look at me. “Baking is kind of awesome.”

“Told you.” I nudge his shoulder with mine then look behind us when I hear the click of a camera.

“Smile,” Gareth says, and I strike a silly pose, which makes Max laugh. Gareth takes another picture then looks around. “Where’s your broom?”

“I think we should wait until we are done to clean up, just in case we have any more accidents.”

“That’s probably smart,” he agrees, and Max and I finish mixing in the flour and the rest of the ingredients, including the chocolate chips. Once we’re done, we scoop the dough into a plastic Tupperware container then set it in the fridge.

“Now for the not so fun part.” I look around at the mess then go to the pantry and grab my vacuum out of its charging dock.

“I think we should try to get as much flour off of us and the counters as we can before we use the vacuum,” Max suggests while bending at the waist and shaking his head.

I laugh, watching flour fall to the floor, and then do the same while Gareth starts to wipe the counters. It doesn’t take us very long to clean up, but by the time we’re finished and I look at the clock, I see they need to leave to go get Mitchell.

“Go start up the engine, kid. I’ll be down in a minute,” Gareth tells Max, tossing him his keys.

“Cool.” He smiles at his dad then looks at me. “See you at the house.”

“See you there,” I agree right before he rushes from my apartment. “He knows not to try to drive, right?” I ask Gareth, and he laughs. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing.” He steps toward me, encircling my waist then trailing one hand up my back and into my hair. “Thank you for letting him help you with cookies.”

“It was fun,” I say breathlessly then moan as he claims my mouth, thrusting his tongue between my parted lips. Holding onto him, I melt into the kiss then feel completely drugged when he pulls away.

“We’ll see you at the house in about forty-five.”

“Okay,” I agree.

He studies me for a moment, and then demands quietly, “Pack a bag. Your cat will be alright here alone for the night.”

“Gareth.”

He holds me tighter. “I want to go to sleep with you in my arms, and I want to wake up with you in my bed.” Feeling weak, I nod, and when I do, he touches his lips to my forehead then lets me go. “See you soon.”