happy, so full of joy, I can barely contain it. I find another smile spreading across my face, and I lose my breath when I see the same type of smile lighting up his.
“All right. You promised me a tutorial in icing biscuits. In mind-numbing detail, if I recall,” Xander says.
I try my best to focus with his hand wrapped so gently around mine. But it’s hard when my head is dizzy with happiness, and I’m so acutely aware of how masculine his skin feels.
I clear my throat to get back to the conversation. “I did.”
“So, these are already iced?” Xander says, releasing my hand and picking up one of the biscuits.
“Yes. They are flooded. That is when you fill the biscuit with icing that is to be your canvas, so to speak. I do that twenty-four hours in advance, so it has time to dry. You can work on wet icing, but that gives me hives. I prefer to have it set before going to work.”
“What’s in royal icing, anyway?” Xander asks. Then, to my surprise, he sits straight up. “Oh, I should have offered you a drink. Would you like something? I’m sorry, that was terribly rude of me.”
I smile. “It’s okay, and water would be lovely. I can’t say alcohol and biscuit-decorating go well together. Unless you want very abstract smiley faces.”
He laughs. I delight in the sound.
“Perhaps I can interest you in a nightcap when we are done,” he says, rising from his seat.
“Yes,” I say, watching as he goes to the fridge. I allow myself to drink in the view, from the span of his back to how his body tapers down to his waist. His jeans hug the most beautiful bum I have ever seen in jeans, and once again, my body temperature rises as I study him. God, he’s beautiful. I’ve seen pictures of him shirtless, snapped at beaches and pools, but I have a feeling in person, Xander would be next-level gorgeous with his shirt off.
With his shirt being merely one of the things I’d like stripped off.
My temperature soars even higher with that thought.
I really need a cold bottle of water now.
Xander turns around, holding two water bottles in his hands. He places one down in front of me before coming back around to take his seat beside me.
“Thank you,” I say, reaching for it and untwisting the cap. I take a long swig and put it back down on the worktop.
“So what is royal icing? I’m waiting in deep anticipation of the answer to this question,” he teases.
“Royal icing,” I explain as I get out an icing bag and tip, “is a mixture of icing sugar, egg whites, lemon juice or water, and in this instance, glycerine, for shine. It creates a hard surface, which makes it ideal for decorating—very smooth, yet it’s entirely edible. You can also use a buttercream for decorating, which is a mixture of butter and icing sugar but is much softer. But in this case, we have royal icing. Now, what you see here,” I pick up a biscuit, “is a thinner royal icing, which is what you need for flooding. I can change the consistency with water or lemon juice. More liquid for a thinner icing, less for a thicker one.”
“When do you want a thicker icing?” Xander asks.
“Certain decorations will require it for holding shape or adding texture,” I explain. “Like if I wanted to make a three-dimensional rose, for example. Or if I wanted to create a wood texture, I would use a thick royal icing and then work it down with tools to make it look like wood. One of my favourite tools to create a wood-like texture is a toothbrush, believe it or not.”
“How did you figure that out?” Xander asks.
I see the curiosity in his expression, and my stomach flutters in response.
“Oh, lord, biscuit artists are a massive community,” I explain. “There are all kinds of Connectivity groups to join, videos to watch on YouTube, and conferences and conventions to attend.”
“Really? About biscuits?” Xander asks.
I grin. “Yes. You haven’t lived until you’ve been to a biscuit-decorating convention. It’s great fun to meet people who are as passionate as you are about your work.”
He blinks. “I wouldn’t know.”
I put my icing bag down. “What do you mean?”
“For starters, it’s not like we have kinging Connectivity groups,” he says dryly.
I laugh, and Xander smiles, but then the teasing expression fades. He shifts his attention straight ahead, avoiding my gaze as his