Updated Apr 19, 2026 • ~14 min read
Chapter 6: Ruby’s Request
Asher
Asher is making dinner on Thursday evening—spaghetti with marinara sauce from a jar because he’s a firefighter not a chef and Ruby doesn’t complain about his basic cooking as long as there’s garlic bread involved—when his daughter appears in the kitchen doorway with her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes wide with the kind of calculated adorableness that means she’s about to ask for something she thinks Asher might say no to.
“Daddy,” Ruby starts, using the sweet voice that she’s learned is extremely effective at getting what she wants. “Can Quinn teach me to bake?”
Asher’s hand stills on the pasta spoon, and he turns to look at his daughter who’s watching him with hope and determination written all over her six-year-old face.
“She’s busy, honey,” Asher says carefully, because the last thing he needs is more forced interaction with his neighbor when the town is already creating elaborate schemes to push them together. “Quinn just opened the bakery. She probably doesn’t have time for lessons.”
“But I want to make cookies for school!” Ruby protests, abandoning her sweet approach in favor of passionate conviction. “There’s a bake sale next month and everyone’s bringing stuff and I want to make something special and you always burn cookies when we try to make them at home!”
“I don’t always burn them,” Asher defends, even though he absolutely does always burn them because baking requires precision and patience that he frankly doesn’t possess. “Sometimes they’re just… extra crispy.”
“They’re burnt, Daddy,” Ruby says with the brutal honesty of a child. “Even Mr. Elephant won’t eat them and he’s a stuffed animal.”
Asher wants to argue, but Ruby has a point—his baking skills are approximately zero, and the last time they attempted cookies together resulted in smoke alarms and a kitchen that smelled like burnt sugar for three days.
“Maybe we can find a YouTube video,” Asher suggests weakly. “Learn together.”
“Or,” Ruby says with the triumphant tone of someone playing their winning card, “I could ask Quinn! She’s a professional baker! And she’s right next door! And she gave me that chocolate croissant specifically for me which means she likes me! Please, Daddy? Please please please?”
Asher looks at his daughter—at her hopeful expression and clasped hands and the way she’s practically vibrating with the desire to learn something new—and knows he’s already lost this argument because he’s never been able to say no to Ruby when she asks for something reasonable, and baking lessons are definitely reasonable even if they involve spending time with the neighbor Asher is trying very hard not to think about.
“Fine,” Asher sighs. “I’ll ask Quinn if she has time to teach you. But if she says no, you accept that and don’t beg, okay?”
“She won’t say no!” Ruby announces with absolute confidence. “Quinn’s nice! She’ll definitely say yes!”
Ruby’s certainty is both adorable and concerning, and Asher spends the rest of dinner mentally rehearsing how to ask Quinn for baking lessons without making it sound like he’s trying to spend more time with her or giving in to the town’s matchmaking schemes.
After Ruby is in bed—bouncing with excitement about the possibility of learning to bake and making Asher promise three times that he’ll ask Quinn tomorrow—Asher stands on his back porch with a beer and stares at the lights in Quinn’s house while trying to convince himself that asking for a favor is perfectly normal neighborly behavior.
He could text her.
But he doesn’t have her number.
He could wait until he sees her outside naturally.
But that might take days and Ruby will ask him constantly if he’s asked yet.
He could just walk over there like a normal person and knock on her door.
Which is what he ends up doing, because delaying is only making this harder.
Quinn answers on the second knock, wearing pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt with her hair in a messy bun, and she looks surprised to see Asher standing on her porch at eight-thirty at night.
“Asher,” she says, and there’s a question in her voice. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine,” Asher says quickly. “Sorry to bother you. I just—Ruby wants to ask you something. Well, I’m asking on her behalf. It’s about baking.”
Quinn’s expression shifts from concerned to amused, and she leans against her doorframe with a small smile that makes Asher extremely aware that he’s standing on her porch feeling awkward while she looks completely comfortable.
“Ruby wants baking lessons?” Quinn guesses.
“How did you know?” Asher asks, genuinely surprised.
“She mentioned it when she came by yesterday to show me her drawing,” Quinn explains. “Said she wants to make cookies for a school bake sale but her daddy burns everything.”
“I don’t burn everything,” Asher mutters, but Quinn’s smile widens into something genuinely amused.
“Anyway,” Asher continues, trying to maintain some dignity, “I told her I’d ask if you have time. I know you’re busy with the bakery, and I can pay whatever your normal rate is for lessons—”
“I’d love to teach her!” Quinn interrupts, and her enthusiasm seems genuine rather than polite. “No charge. She’s sweet.”
Asher feels something in his chest relax—relief that Ruby will be happy, mixed with something else he doesn’t want to examine too closely about how easily Quinn agreed and how genuine her smile is when she talks about his daughter.
“You don’t have to do it for free,” Asher protests. “Your time is worth something.”
“Consider it payback for the pipe fixing,” Quinn says. “And honestly, I’d enjoy it. Ruby’s great, and I’ve been thinking about offering kids’ baking classes eventually anyway. This can be a trial run.”
“If you’re sure,” Asher says, and Quinn nods.
“Absolutely. Does Saturday morning work? Say nine o’clock? She can come over to the bakery and we’ll make cookies.”
“Saturday’s perfect,” Asher confirms. “Thank you. Really. Ruby’s going to be thrilled.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Quinn says, and there’s warmth in her voice that makes Asher’s chest do that uncomfortable tightening thing again. “Tell Ruby to come ready to get messy. Baking is hands-on.”
“Will do,” Asher says, backing away from the door before this interaction can become more complicated. “Thanks again.”
“Anytime, neighbor,” Quinn calls after him, and Asher can hear the smile in her voice.
Ruby is, predictably, absolutely thrilled when Asher tells her about the baking lessons the next morning, and she spends the entire day at school presumably telling everyone about how she’s learning to bake from a real pastry chef, because Asher gets approximately five texts from other parents asking if Quinn is offering classes to other kids too.
Saturday morning arrives with Ruby awake at six AM demanding to know if it’s time to go to Quinn’s yet, and Asher has to explain multiple times that nine o’clock means they have three hours to wait, and no, they can’t go early because Quinn is probably still sleeping.
When nine o’clock finally arrives, Ruby practically drags Asher across the yard to Sugar & Spice where Quinn is waiting with the bakery kitchen set up for baking lessons—ingredients measured out in small bowls, a child-sized apron laid out, and a patient smile that makes Asher grateful all over again that his neighbor is willing to do this.
“Ruby!” Quinn greets his daughter warmly. “Ready to learn how to make the best chocolate chip cookies ever?”
“Yes!” Ruby shouts with enthusiasm that’s probably too loud for nine in the morning, and Quinn laughs and helps her into the apron while Asher hovers awkwardly by the door.
“You can stay if you want,” Quinn offers, glancing at Asher. “Or come back in an hour. Whatever works.”
Asher should leave—should give them space and avoid spending more time with Quinn than absolutely necessary—but something makes him hesitate.
“I’ll come back,” he says finally. “Let you two work without me getting in the way.”
“You’re never in the way,” Quinn says absently, already focused on Ruby and the ingredients. “But we’ll see you in an hour.”
Asher leaves them to their lesson and spends the hour doing absolutely nothing productive—he tries to read, tries to watch TV, tries to do some overdue paperwork—but his mind keeps drifting to the bakery across the yard and wondering how Ruby is doing and whether she’s behaving for Quinn.
He ends up standing at his kitchen window like a creep, watching through the bakery windows as Quinn teaches his daughter to bake.
And what he sees makes something in his chest tighten uncomfortably.
Quinn is patient in a way that Asher recognizes from years of parenting—the kind of patience that comes from genuinely enjoying teaching rather than just tolerating children. She shows Ruby how to measure flour, guiding her hands but letting Ruby do the work herself. She laughs when Ruby gets egg on her nose, wiping it off with a gentle touch. She crouches down to Ruby’s level to explain something, giving his daughter her full attention like there’s nothing more important in the world than teaching a six-year-old how to fold in chocolate chips.
Ruby is glowing with happiness, chattering away while Quinn listens and responds, and Asher watches them together and feels something shift in his carefully protected heart.
This is what Ruby needs.
This kind of female attention, this patient teaching, this gentle presence that Asher can’t provide no matter how hard he tries because he’s not Ruby’s mother and he never will be.
He’s been telling himself for two years that he and Ruby are fine alone, that they don’t need anyone else, that he can be both parents and provide everything his daughter needs.
But watching Quinn with Ruby, seeing the way his daughter lights up with female attention and gentle teaching, Asher has to admit that maybe they’re not quite as fine as he’s been pretending.
His phone buzzes with a text from Cole: “Heard Ruby’s getting baking lessons. You standing at your window watching them like a stalker?”
“Shut up,” Asher texts back. “I’m making sure Ruby’s okay.”
“Sure,” Cole responds. “That’s definitely what you’re doing. Not at all admiring how good Quinn is with kids or noticing how pretty she looks when she smiles.”
Asher throws his phone on the counter and determinedly stops watching through the window, but the image of Quinn and Ruby laughing together over cookie dough stays with him.
When an hour is up, Asher walks back to the bakery to find Ruby covered in flour and chocolate and wearing the biggest smile he’s seen in months.
“Daddy! Look what I made!” Ruby announces, holding up a tray of perfectly shaped chocolate chip cookies. “Quinn said I’m a natural!”
“You are a natural,” Quinn confirms, and she’s also covered in flour with chocolate on her cheek, and she looks happy in a way that makes Asher’s chest tight. “She picked up the folding technique faster than most adults.”
“Thank you for teaching her,” Asher says, and he means it with an intensity that probably shows on his face because Quinn’s expression softens.
“It was my pleasure,” Quinn says. “Truly. She’s a great student.”
“Can I come back next week?” Ruby asks hopefully. “Quinn said we could make cupcakes if you say yes!”
Asher should say no—should maintain boundaries and avoid the kind of regular interaction that leads to familiarity and connection—but he looks at his daughter’s hopeful face and Quinn’s gentle smile and finds himself agreeing before he can overthink it.
“If Quinn doesn’t mind,” Asher says carefully.
“I definitely don’t mind,” Quinn confirms. “Same time next week? We’ll tackle buttercream frosting.”
Ruby cheers and hugs Quinn impulsively, and Asher watches his daughter wrap her arms around their neighbor with complete trust and affection, and Quinn hugs back without hesitation, and something in Asher’s carefully controlled world shifts irrevocably.
They walk back across the yard with Ruby chattering about everything she learned and clutching her cookies like precious treasure, and Asher is quiet because his mind is too full of thoughts he doesn’t want to have.
Thoughts about how Quinn looked teaching his daughter.
Thoughts about how Ruby needs female influence in her life.
Thoughts about how Quinn smiled when Ruby hugged her, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Thoughts about how maybe, possibly, Asher’s careful isolation isn’t protecting Ruby so much as depriving her of connections she needs.
That night, after Ruby is asleep and Asher is alone with his thoughts and a beer on the back porch, Cole shows up uninvited and settles into the chair next to him without asking.
“So,” Cole says casually. “Ruby’s got a crush on Quinn.”
“She likes her baking,” Asher corrects.
“She likes her,” Cole counters. “I saw the drawing Ruby made today. It’s Quinn and Ruby baking together with hearts everywhere. Kid’s smitten.”
“She’s six,” Asher says. “She gets excited about everyone who’s nice to her.”
“Not true,” Cole argues. “Ruby’s picky about adults. She tolerates most people but she genuinely likes very few. And she likes Quinn. A lot.”
Asher knows Cole is right—Ruby is actually quite discerning despite being generally friendly—but admitting that his daughter is getting attached to their neighbor feels dangerous in ways Asher isn’t ready to confront.
“It’s baking lessons,” Asher says firmly. “Nothing more.”
“If you say so,” Cole responds, but he’s smiling in that knowing way that suggests he sees right through Asher’s denials. “Though I noticed you watched them through the window for the entire hour.”
“I was making sure Ruby was okay,” Asher defends.
“She was with Quinn,” Cole points out. “Safest place she could be besides with you. You weren’t worried about safety. You were watching Quinn be great with your kid and realizing that maybe, possibly, you’re not as uninterested as you keep claiming.”
“I’m not interested,” Asher insists, but even he can hear how weak it sounds.
“Asher,” Cole says, getting serious for a moment. “I know Emma’s death wrecked you. I know you’re scared of losing someone again. But Ruby needs more than just you. And maybe, just maybe, you need more than just Ruby. Quinn seems like good people. It’s okay to notice that.”
“I’ve known her two weeks,” Asher protests.
“So get to know her better,” Cole suggests. “Through Ruby’s baking lessons if nothing else. You don’t have to marry her tomorrow. Just… stop fighting every possible connection like it’s a threat.”
Cole leaves after that—heading home to his own life while Asher sits alone and tries to process advice he didn’t ask for but probably needed to hear.
The lights are on in Quinn’s house, and Asher can see her moving around in what’s probably her kitchen, and he wonders if she’s baking or cleaning or just living her normal evening routine in the house next door.
He wonders if she enjoyed teaching Ruby as much as she claimed.
He wonders if she noticed Asher watching through the window.
He wonders if she thinks about their interactions the way he’s started thinking about them—late at night when he can’t sleep and his mind drifts to brown eyes and genuine smiles and the way she looked at Ruby with such patient kindness.
“Stop it,” Asher mutters to himself, taking a long drink of beer and trying to shut down thoughts that lead nowhere good.
But that night, when he closes his eyes, he sees Quinn teaching Ruby to bake, sees his daughter’s happy smile, sees the kind of family scene he thought died with Emma.
And despite every wall he’s built and every defense he’s maintained, Asher has to admit that Cole might be right.
He might not be quite as uninterested as he keeps claiming.
And that terrifies him more than any fire he’s ever fought.
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