I looked over at Ayden, watching him struggle with the pickle jar. I glanced at all the ingredients laid out on the counter. "Are you putting pickles in a cake?"
He looked at me and straightened himself up. "What, do pickles not belong in a cake?"
"Would you ever eat a sweet vanilla cake that had a pickle flavoring to it?" I smiled a bit.
He huffed. "How do I make a cake then?"
I walked over to the counter. "Well, the ingredients you will need are sugar, flour, eggs, milk, and some vanilla extract. Those are important." I got the ingredients ready on the counter. "It's important to get the right amounts in the cake mix, too. Too much flour makes for a very dry cake," I warned.
He crossed his arms and eyed the ingredients I laid out for him. "Well, are you going to show me?" He gestured to the counter.
I looked at him and leaned against the counter. "Why would I do it for you? That doesn't help you, now does it? Come now, young boy."
"I'm older than you," he said.
"Are you? I only look the age of which I died. For all you know, I could've died five years ago. I could be twenty-five figuratively speaking. You're only twenty-three." I playfully smirked. I was trying to throw his detective game off track. I was actually younger than him, but I couldn't let him know such a thing.
Lying was only a thing when it served the purpose of helping Ayden. It couldn't hurt him to hide my true identity so it couldn't be wrong.
He scoffed. "Are you going to teach me how to bake or not? I may come from a family business of bakers, but I couldn't bake to save my life."
I grabbed a mixing bowl and set some ingredients near it. "You do have to bake to save your own life. That's why I'm here, after all. Now, just pour in the ingredients I tell you to."
He grabbed the measurements of the ingredients to the cake and mixed them together as I told him. He soon finished with the cake batter and sprayed the baking pan with nonstick spray. He poured in the mix and put it in the oven. "Alright, I didn't do too bad so far."
"You forgot to turn the oven on." I pointed to the dial.
He groaned and turned the oven to the right temperature. "There, now I'm doing okay."
I nodded and looked at the bowl. "Are you going to eat the leftover batter?"
"Do you want it?" he asked.
It was sweet that he would ask such a question. Something was finally getting through to him. I was getting through to him. "No thanks."
He grabbed the whisk and licked it. He switched to a spoon and scooped the batter from inside the bowl and licked it from there. "Wow, I did well."
"Thanks to me," I joked.
He glared at me. "I am taking the credit." He grabbed a handful of flour from the bag and threw it at me.
I gasped and widened my eyes. "Ayden! What is that for?" I tried to wipe it off.
He chuckled. "You're an angel and you guys are known for your white attire. I think it suits you."
I grabbed a handful and returned the favor. He looked like a ghost. I began to laugh at my own doing. "Your face is priceless!"
He grabbed the whole bag of flour and dumped it on my head. "Ha, I win!" He laughed.
I shook my head quickly, throwing the flour onto him. "Next time, don't stand too close." I smiled big and went towards the bathroom.
He followed me and put his arm around me. "Mind if I join you? I need a good shower, too."
YOU ARE READING
Beauty of a Crimson Soul (Book #1)Fantasy
"A dead therapist, how thoughtful." Ayden is the epitome of a stone cold man, only working to benefit himself. After a near death experience, he is sent the one thing he never thought was possible. A guardian angel. She comes to help him turn his l...