Free Aimee (A Time for Love Book 3) by Brandi Phelps

older brothers and sisters, I had a constant stream of nieces and nephews to play with. Sometimes more than I could handle!” he laughed. “I loved it. I’d like to have three or four of my own.”
    “Three or four?”
    He shrugged. “If I’m blessed enough to find a wife who agrees.” He changed the subject. “How did you get interested in cooking?”
    “I helped my mother with the birthday cakes she used to make. We decorated them with princesses, fire trucks, dinosaurs, whatever the customer wanted. At first, I would just help stir the batter or pour the sugar, but I wanted to learn how to do the whole thing. When I was in high school, my mother got a better job, and I took over making the cakes.”
    “You ran it by yourself?”
    “Yes. It wasn’t exactly a million-dollar business, but it did pay for my prom dress.”
    They chatted about her cooking until they arrived at the small concrete-block community center. When A Time for Love’s van parked beside them, Frank begin carrying the chairs and boxes inside the community center. Other volunteers were setting up tables and booths around the park, and Aimee followed the receptionist inside, where they unfolded the chairs Frank was unloading.
    Once all the chairs and boxes had been brought inside, Edwina gathered the group for a briefing.
    “We’re partnering with the police department and Klausen’s Kids, an organization that helps at-risk and disadvantaged youth, for a kids’ fair. We’ll have food booths, carnival games, craft demonstrations, and competitions. Each booth will give out either a small prize or a ticket the kids can use towards a larger prize. The prizes aren’t the usual carnival trinkets; they’re items area crafters made and merchants donated. This is the third year for the fair, and we expect it to be the largest yet.”
    Aimee nodded. Who wouldn’t be excited about an event that helped kids? And maybe a little nervous too, if she had to interact with them.
    “Aimee, I’ve got you and Whitney working one of the refreshment stations, where kids can learn to make their own Belgian waffle. It may get messy,” she warned. “Frank, you’ll be helping with the carnival games outside.”
    She sent them off on their assignments. Aimee was disappointed she wouldn’t be working with Frank, but maybe they could catch up during a break. She headed for the table Edwina had indicated, and the blond receptionist joined her. Whitney. Aimee sent the girl a silent apology for not remembering her name.
    “What do we do?” she asked.
    Whitney set the box she was holding on the table. “Pick up a tablecloth from over there,” she pointed, “and we’ll get the station set up.”
    They spread out the leaf-patterned tablecloth and set up half a dozen waffle irons at one end of the table. A volunteer delivered a blue cooler, and when Aimee opened it, she found jugs of waffle batter and containers of toppings—whipped cream, fruit, powdered sugar, nuts, and an array of syrups.
    Once the table was arranged to Whitney’s satisfaction, she said, “Since you’re the cooking expert, and I’m more the microwave-dinner type, you’re in charge of the waffle irons. I’ll help if we get busy.”
    Aimee nodded. Hopefully they wouldn’t get too busy. She was relieved when Edwina called Whitney over to help at another table, and she took the time to rehearse the instructions she would give to the kids. Spray the waffle iron with cooking oil, pour the batter, close the lid, and wait for the waffle to cook. Simple enough. She could do this.
    “Are you ready for the fun? We open in less than ten minutes.”
    Aimee turned to see Frank beside her. “I hope so.”
    He glanced up and down the table and grinned. “Need a practice run?”
    “Sure.”
    Aimee sprayed the waffle iron with oil and then showed how to pour the batter in. While the waffle was cooking, she explained, “Belgian waffles are typically made with a yeast batter, rather than the baking