Macarons at Midnight by M.J. O'Shea & Anna Martin Page A

mind wasn’t completely focused on work, though—how could it be? Henry inadvertently shivered. The week he’d had with Tristan had been more than he could have hoped for. He’d been so amazing at Poppy’s party. Dealing with any of his sister’s society friends was almost a foregone disaster, but Tristan had handled with it with the sort of grace and charm Henry had come to expect of him. And then after….
    Every day, Henry learned a little bit more. More about his kisses and his personality, more laughs and smiles and long conversations. Everything Henry learned made him like Tristan even better.
    There was a part of him that hoped things between the two of them were heading in a more serious direction, even so soon. So far, they’d kept their interactions light and easygoing, long nights of kissing and talking aside, and although that was good, Henry wanted more. He liked waking up to Tristan’s sleepy face, even if the rest of him was still fully clothed and only half-awake most mornings when Henry woke him in the dark. He liked winking and offering him free pastries on the way to work along with a lusty kiss good-bye.
    Tristan….
    Inspiration struck in a flash, and Henry grinned to himself, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. While the first batch of sugar cookies baked, he pulled his iPad out of his bag and flicked through a few of his favorite baking recipe sites, searching for traditional British cookies. There was no way of knowing whether Tristan would take him up on his offer to stop by on the way to work, but that almost didn’t matter.
    When he saw the recipe for something called jammie dodgers, he laughed aloud and decided immediately this was definitely what he’d make for the customers. It sounded delightfully British, kind of weird and old-fashioned and like something his patrons would love to order out loud for a laugh. Plus, he could make them easily with the ingredients he already had in the kitchen. Perfect.
    In between batches of his regular cookies, Henry went about customizing the recipe, changing it to American units and tasting as he went along to make sure he was on the right track. The picture he’d found on the Internet showed two cookies sandwiched together with a layer of bright red jam between, and a heart shape cut out of the top cookie to reveal the jam inside.
    He didn’t have a heart-shaped cutter small enough on hand so used a star instead, setting a hundred and fifty round discs of dough on sheets to make seventy-five of his newest creation. If they were as popular as he hoped, he’d try it again. If not, well, he had a lot on hand to send home with Millie for her kids and their classmates. It was fun to create new things, no matter the reason, and the ingredients were cheap enough that it wasn’t a big loss either way.
    By the time Millie arrived at seven, the cooling racks were full of the first batches of their usual fare: croissants, muffins, and cookies frosted and ready to go into the display cabinets. He had a tray of his jammie dodgers— snicker — ready to go too, all round and golden, with pretty raspberry jam-colored stars.
    “My, my, someone’s been busy this morning,” she said as she turned the coffee maker on and started to fix two mugs. Henry wasn’t very good with the coffee maker. He tended to make do with instant crap if he needed it while working, or he locked up and ran to the Starbucks on the next corner once they opened. Once Millie was there, though, he was juiced up for the morning.
    “Yeah. I’ve got a good amount done,” Henry said. “The displays are looking good this morning.”
    He wiped his hands and leaned back against a counter, stretching his back. It ached from being hunched over piping for the past half hour, and it felt good to straighten up. His fingers were numb too, and his wrists hurt, but he wouldn’t complain. He was doing exactly what he’d always dreamed of doing.
    “You’re mighty perky for this time of