by Karr, Kim
“It’s not guilt. It’s just too much chocolate makes me hyper.”
“Everything makes you hyper,” he declared.
It was true.
There was no point in denying it any further, so instead, I shrugged. “It’s just a thing.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not just a thing, it’s a Jules thing,” he joked, and his southern drawl was especially thick.
Once again I found myself lifting my shoulders in an undeniable shrug. He knew me, and he knew I had quirks.
A lot of them.
Montgomery set his gaze back on the cake, and when he did, a line creased his brow.
“What is it?” I asked in alarm, worried something was wrong with the cake that I hadn’t noticed.
Taking a step back, he eyed his work. Circling it, he searched for flaws, of which I was sure there would be none because Montgomery was nothing if he wasn’t a perfectionist. Not a single thing was ever overlooked.
My gaze followed his. Each tier looked like driftwood, only instead of being made out of bark, the frosting, or fondant to be politically correct, was created from the most decadent white and dark chocolates.
There was also a heart piped on the middle tier as if it were carved in the tree, and inside were the couple’s initials, written in Tiffany blue.
Such a perfect touch.
The branches that had been placed here and there in such a geometrically pleasing fashion were also spot on. And needless to say, the topper was exactly what the bride had ordered.
Or I hoped it was.
Birds.
Lovebirds.
I bit my lip in contemplation.
They were conventional, and from what I could tell, my prospective client was not. I had wondered about this enough that I emailed her twice to be assured I had gotten it right.
The responses she provided to me had been all over the place. In one email she stated she wanted an outdoor barn wedding, but without the cowboy boots, horses, and hay. Then she added that rustic would be okay, but she preferred modern. In another, she stated she wouldn’t be able to live without those lovebirds as her wedding theme. And finally, she wrote that chocolate was her must-have flavor. Oh, I almost forgot—her PS informed me Tiffany blue was her favorite color.
I took what I could from the mix of chaos and spoke to Montgomery. Once he designed the ideal cake, I invited her and her groom-to-be to The Bride Box so I could wow her before taking her to my office to discuss the details of my plan for her wedding.
After spinning the cake around, Montgomery glanced over at me.
My heart was in my mouth, and my pulse was racing up my throat to meet it. I couldn’t find the air to breathe and was barely able to repeat myself. “Montgomery, what’s the matter?”
“It’s nothing.” He waved a hand in the air.
I continued to stare at him with my heart in my throat. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he stressed. “I’m just giving it one final look-over,” he added.
Okay, he did always do that.
Didn’t he?
With a grin on his face, he picked up the base. He carried the giant cake to the crystal platform on the large, distressed, wooden table behind us. And then his masterpiece was on display.
Finally, I felt like I could breathe again.
For a few seconds we both stood there and admired the cake, but then I broke free and gave in to the temptation sitting beside me. I couldn’t help myself. I dipped my finger in the leftover bowl of chocolate icing and brought it to my mouth. The moan I made wasn’t on purpose. “Montgomery, you outdid yourself this time.”
Remaining straight-faced, he said, “You say that every time.”
“This time I really do mean it,” I said around a lick.
“You know I’d do anything for you.”
“I know you would.” I smiled at him. “But I mean it. This time, you really, really, really, did outdo yourself.”
The corners of his lips lifted. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I don’t just like it,” I moaned again, swiping my finger across the bowl’s edge one more time. “I love it.”
Never one for praise, he placed a kiss on my forehead. “Remember, Juliette, you are the one who did this.”
I shook my head.
It was all him.
“Yes, you did,” he insisted. “I might have made the cake, but it was your idea to present the bride with it first, to give her what she wants when she doesn’t even know herself. That’s the sign of a true artist.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I admitted.
He nodded. “I’m more than right. You can do this. And I mean more than just the upcoming meeting.”
“I hope so, Montgomery. I really do,” I whispered.
His gaze narrowed on me. “Stop doubting yourself. Do you hear me?”
With a bright grin, I said, “Yes.”
He brought his hands together. “Good, because now it’s time to eat, and then clean up,” he replied.
Now that was a good idea.
Grabbing the bowl of chocolate icing, he strode through the swinging door that led to the back kitchen. As it closed behind him, I was not only left with the lingering taste of chocolate on my lips but the feeling that I really could do this job.
All I had to do was prove it.
CHAPTER TWO
Bite Off More Than You Can Chew
JULES EASTON
IT DIDN’T TAKE MUCH TO make me happy.
The simple things in life seemed to be the ones that made me smile the most. I was a lot like my mother that way.
A sunny day.
The pitter-patter of rain hitting my window at night.
A kiss.
Even chocolate icing.
I licked my lips one last time and glanced around the place that had become like my second home when I needed one the most. The place I’d worked at after school for four years, only then the business name had been The Pastry Box.
As most things do, the showroom had changed over the years. No longer a retail bakery, it had been closed to the public years ago. Montgomery and Archer had decided to concentrate on the wedding trade exclusively, and it had paid off.
Now this place was used for magazine shoots, bridal party gatherings, and wooing, yes wooing, clients. The reason everyone loved this area was that it looked like Martha Stewart’s kitchen, only super-sized, and on steroids.
Painted brick walls, old wooden floors, marble counters, stainless steel appliances, refrigerated cases, and open cupboards filled with various plates, bowls, and decorating tools collected over many years. It was southern charm and New York metro combined. With the amount of sunlight streaming in, it was also the perfect backdrop for photos.
It was also the perfect sales floor.
The walls were a soft pastel blue, except the back one. That one was finished with a white glaze to allow the words scrolled across it to stand out. Every time I read, “LOVE IS ALL YOU NEED,” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, and this time wasn’t any different.
It wasn’t that I was a cynic, but love really wasn’t all you needed. You needed air to breathe and water to survive and your phone to keep in touch with those you love.
Don’t get me wrong—I was all about love. In fact, I was so much about finding the perfect love that I made it the basis for my career.
That didn’t mean I understood it. In fact, I found it somewhat confusing. Love was not always patient. Love was not always kind. And love most definitely did not conquer all. It could happen in a fleeting moment or not even once in your life. It wasn’t shared fairly, and sometimes it meant something different to different people.
Still, love was what made my world go round at Easton Design & Weddings, and that was all I needed to understand about it.
Right?
My uncle, Edward Easton, founded Easton Design & Weddings more than thirty-five years ago because he, like Montgomery, believed love was all you needed.
Since then the company had earned almost every prestigious award in the industry, including The Knot’s Best of Weddings top pick for the past ten consecutive years.
Sadly, it was highly unlikely we would be receiving that award this year. A little more than six months ago, I had taken over the day-to-day operations of the business so my uncle could enjoy the beginning stages of his retirement. Since then I’d worked night and day, drained my entire savings account, and lost more jobs than I’d landed.
Unfortunately, the transition had not been going as smoothly as my uncle had thought it would. I had experienced more than one setback. For the first time in the company’s history, the business wasn’t making a profit. And worse, it was losing money.
Other than Montgomery, up until recently, no one else had known just how bad things were. Although it had killed me to keep it to myself, I had known it wouldn’t remain a secret for long.
And it hadn’t.
Four weeks ago the hammer fell, and now I had until the end of summer to make a success of Easton Design & Weddings or . . . I can’t even think about it without wanting to cry . . . my uncle was going to be forced to sell the business.
The mandate came after my uncle asked to see the company financials. They were actually much more dismal than they appeared, but since I had infused my own money into the business, he wasn’t aware of this.
Even still, based on what he saw, he had canceled most of his upcoming travel plans to meet with me twice a week for business updates and consultations. During these meetings, I always remained optimistic, but I finally had to admit I didn’t know what I was doing wrong. He frowned at this and told me I didn’t understand love. Although I had voiced my disagreement, he remained steadfast in his convictions.
And then today he dropped a bomb on me.
Thinking I could use the help, and hoping to motivate his son at the same time, Uncle Edward had asked my cousin to help me out. What is it they say, ‘Kill two birds with one stone’?
The thing was, my cousin wasn’t anymore ready to help run a business based on love than I was. In fact, if you asked me, he was going to be completely unable to do so.
Love was the last thing on his mind.
Still, my uncle had hope.
I got it.
If I couldn’t do it, maybe his son could.
More than twenty years ago, my uncle had lost his wife and son in a tragic car accident. After that devastating loss, all he did was work. And when I came to live with him, it was an adjustment on both of our parts.
It seemed like we’d just got in the swing of things when one day he came back from a wedding expo in Nevada with a foster kid who’d tried to pickpocket him. Soon he adopted that kid, and Finn became part of our small family.
I think even today he was still reeling from the effort it took to raise us both.
Boys were said to be easier to raise than girls, but Finn had been much more difficult to handle than me, and even now, he still was.
He was a wild card.
Even though Finn had been out of the toxic environment he had grown up in for a long time, he still had a dark fire in him he had yet to extinguish.
Now twenty-two years old, Finn had graduated college more than three months ago and had yet to begin to job hunt. To this end, my uncle knew very well that Finn didn’t want to be in the family business. This he had made clear over and over throughout the years. However, without a plan for the future, Uncle Edward decided Finn needed to give it a try.
Finn didn’t have a choice.
What my uncle didn’t know was that Finn did have an interest in another field, if you could call it that. What he was doing with his nights was a secret between us, though, and if Finn had his way, my uncle would never find out about it.
The idea of Finn working with me still hadn’t sunk in. Yet, I knew I either accepted the help or Uncle Edward was going to cancel all his vacation plans and come back to work himself. If that happened, I would never be able to prove I could make it on my own. Even if his doubts seemed less like doubts and more like reality with each passing day, I still wanted this chance.
For me.
And for him.
In my late twenties, Uncle Edward knew I was more than mature enough to run a business of this magnitude, and he also knew I wanted to be in the wedding business. Which was why he turned it over to me, to begin with.
However, today during our rather heated discussion about Finn, he told me that my quest for perfection, coupled with my impulsive nature, could be the downfall of Easton Design & Weddings. And that he wasn’t sure giving me until the end of the summer to turn things around was the right thing to do.
Those words broke my heart, but they also made me more determined than ever to prove him wrong. After a very long conversation, by some miracle, he had decided to honor his promise and not rescind it before selling the business.
Proving myself wasn’t going to be easy.
Of course, there was the indisputable fact that I had to turn the business around. However, there was also the fact that my failed engagement still weighed heavily on my uncle’s mind. In his eyes, I had made a wrong decision, and I think he saw that as a testament to my poor decision-making abilities.
That was nearly nine months ago, and yet he continued to refer to the less-than-logical reasons I had called the wedding off. It was safe to say he talked about it more than I did. In his opinion, Jaxson Cassidy was about as close to being the perfect one for me as anyone ever would be.
He might not have been wrong about that.
But I’d let Jaxson go.
Jaxson Cassidy.
Just his name brought a smile to my lips.
Everyone called him Sundance because he was the polar opposite of Butch Cassidy in the famous movie. Laid back and fun loving, he was more like the Sundance Kid. Jaxson, which I preferred to call him, was the Ying to my Yang.
The whole opposites attract thing described us perfectly. Where I was a bit overzealous, to put it nicely, he was laid back and easy going.
Perhaps a little too much.
I had been the one to suggest we get engaged, and so we did. I had been the one to suggest a wedding date, and Jaxson had agreed. I had been the one to pick out everything, and that worked for him.
Do you see the I pattern here?
In the weeks leading up to the wedding, I noticed his light seemed a little dimmer. That he wasn’t shining as brightly as he normally did.
Just in case you hadn’t guessed, I’m an overachiever and a bit of a perfectionist myself. Even though Jaxson swore nothing was wrong, I knew something was. And I couldn’t get it out of my head. I began to wonder why he wasn’t happy, and then I figured it out.
It was me.
I didn’t make him happy anymore.
I wasn’t the Yang to his Ying.
Being the perfectionist that I was, I wanted to be that. I wanted perfect. I wanted to be his everything, but I knew I wasn’t.
This only made me question if he was my everything, and that was when I realized maybe he wasn’t.
Ending our engagement was the best thing for both of us.
We weren’t meant to be.
I felt it in my bones, and at least we remained friends, which was both good and bad. On the one hand, I loved talking to him and working with him. But, I also hated the idea that the day was going to come when he’d fall for someone else, and being close with him still, I’d not only know about it, but I’d also have to see it.
Me, on the other hand, I was beginning to think my uncle was right, and that I had made a mistake.
After nine long months, I had yet to even go on a date.
Perhaps finding Mr. Right was impossible.
Maybe finding Mr. Almost Right was as close as I could ever hope to get, which meant Jaxson had been my shot at love, and I had blown it because it wasn’t perfect.
We weren’t perfect.
Perfect.
I was beginning to hate that word.
Then again finding my North Star wasn’t exactly something I had time for right now. And dating, that not only took time but energy, both of which were running low right now.
The creak of the steel door swinging open jarred me out of my more than unfortunate reality.
When I looked up, though, I smiled wide. In each hand, Montgomery held a small porcelain plate. I was certain they would be his favorite silver-lined ones if I could see the rims, which I couldn’t because the pieces of cake were the size of Mount Rushmore.
Raising an eyebrow, I scolded him. “Montgomery! I thought you said we were going to share a piece, not eat the entire tier. That is way too much cake. I can’t be in a chocolate coma when I meet with my prospective clients.”
Before I could comment further, a pair of thick, muscled arms gripped my waist from behind, and a tight belly pressed along my back. “Not prospective client, your new client. Think positively, my dear,” a strong English voice whispered directly into my ear. “And don’t worry love, I’m not going to allow Montgomery to eat that bloody piece of cake, and you don’t have to, either.”
I twisted, giving into laughter at the tickling touch of a beard on my earlobe. “Archer, when did you get here? I didn’t even hear you come in.”
Archer was as English as Montgomery was Southern, and he was not only Montgomery’s husband but also the manager of The Bride Box. With his incredibly fit physique, methodically shaved hair close to his scalp, and that single diamond stud in his ear, he was incredibly handsome.
With his deep-rooted English manners, Archer took my palm and kissed my hand. “Why my love, I’ve been here all day, but I was in the back office, which as you know is like being in Siberia. And since Montgomery turned off the security system yesterday when Jaxson was here doing a photo shoot for his portfolio, I didn’t hear you come in, or of course, I would have greeted you properly when you arrived.”
Montgomery was shaking his head at Archer.
“Jaxson was here doing a shoot, for his portfolio?” I asked, and I wondered why he hadn’t told me.
Montgomery ignored my question and extended his arm to hand me the cake. “Yes, I, once again forgot to turn the alarm back on,” he admitted, not looking at all sheepish about it.
