Off Plan

by May Archer

  She giggled again, proving my point. "You've gotta admit, it's hilariously ironic that you, of all people, have become this... this wedding cake guru."

  "Hey!" I said, stung. "I am a damn good baker. I learned from my grandmother. And Fanaille is..."

  "The best bakery around, I know!" she agreed. "But you're not exactly the sympathetic, hand-holding type, Cal. And ever since O'Leary became the destination-wedding capital of western New York, you've been knee-deep in brides and grooms. They flock to you." She grinned. "The same way cats identify the one person in the room trying to ignore them, and make sure to jump on their lap."

  "Hmmm." I moved back behind the counter and started straightening the coffee station, which was already tidy. I was pretty ruthless about keeping everything in its place.

  Maura wasn't wrong about my opinion of most engaged folks - and there were a fuck-ton these days - who walked through my door. It wasn't that I didn't like them, per se. They were generally decent humans, and the business was lucrative. But every bride- or groom-to-be had their vision, and as Gran always reminded me, I was ten pounds of opinion in a five-pound bag. Passivity was never one of my virtues, in business or in my personal life.

  Blame the red hair.

  I knew Maura figured I was just salty because I didn't have a potential groom of my own. In fact, she and my friend Parker had sat me down in the back room and had a little intervention, when Parker had been home visiting his parents at Christmas. Apparently, I had to get out and date more, stop being a hermit now that Gran had moved to Florida and I was living alone above the bakery. Apparently, I was reminding Maura of the old man from that Disney movie, the one with the house and the balloons. Apparently, Parker thought I needed to learn to smile again, which was total bullshit.

  I smiled.

  Of course I did.

  "You excited for tomorrow night?" Maura asked, like she was reading my mind. I turned around to see her leaning back against the counter, arms folded over her chest and watching me steadily.

  "Thrilled," I said blandly. "Why did I let you and Park talk me into this dating app thing again?"

  "Uh, because it's free dinner and a guaranteed match?"

  "Uh huh."

  "You never turn down a free dinner, Cal."

  I snorted. "That's the truth." I was a shitty cook. Ironic, maybe since I was such a good baker, but neon-orange mac and cheese was pretty much my staple food now that Gran was sunning herself down south. "I suppose I can sit through a date for that alone."

  "You're approaching this all wrong," Maura informed me. When she nodded, her brown corkscrew curls bobbed along. "Yeah, you've had a bunch of dates that didn't pan out in the past. But this is different. This is your date with destiny, Cal."

  "Mmmm, no. It's my date with a man who calls himself Frogman626," I reminded her. I couldn't help but picture a little dude with big eyes, and that was so not my type.

  "Oh my God. Shade from the man who picked the username HotCrossBuns?" She lifted one impeccable eyebrow.

  "It's a baking thing! It's... cute."

  She rolled her eyes. "Glass houses, Cal. That's all I'm saying. And you know, maybe you have to kiss a frog to find true love."

  "I knew it. I knew it!" I crowed. "I was betting with myself on how long it would take you to make that joke once I told you the guy’s username. And I won. But, spoiler: You kiss the frog before you find your true love."

  "Wait, I thought the frog was the true love? I need to Google this."

  "It doesn't fucking matter," I told her impatiently. "You can't tell me you really believe I'm going to meet my one true love tomorrow night." I shook my head at her naivety. "True love doesn't happen instantly. Frankly I'm amazed that they found a man who matched my top-three criteria."

  Someone commitment-oriented, kink-friendly, and located within five miles of O'Leary? Where had this unicorn been hiding?

  "Hmmm," she said, looking at me with that superior, I know something you don't know look that had driven me crazy since Gran had hired her eight years ago. "I have the feeling your luck is about to change! And you would too, if you'd text the guy back."

  I opened my mouth to defend myself, to tell her that if my date had never read a book, hated musicals, and was allergic to refined sugar, I'd rather deal with my disappointment in the moment, than be disappointed in advance and forced to keep the date anyway.

  But before I could say any of that, the bell above the front door jangled and a tall, lithe blonde strolled in, cell phone pressed to her ear and voice raised so the whole world could hear her.

  "I don't care about your sister's broken ankle, Veronica! Let her hobble! This is my wedding week, dammit, and I cannot deal with your issues or I'm going to break out for my photographs! It's bad enough that my groom's stupid friends took him to Vegas for his bachelor party, and–. What? I can so blame them! They took his ass across the country and got him lap dancers after I told them I forbid it. I'm his fiancée. They need to fucking respect me!"

  "Who the hell is that?" I demanded under my breath.

  "Karen Mitchener," Maura whined in a low voice. "Oh, Jesus. And only an hour before closing time."

  "Who?"

  "Karen Mitchener. Remember? From the Mitchener-Martin wedding up at the Scarlet Maple Inn this weekend? I handled her tasting last fall, when you were down in Boca with your Gran, and it was one of the most painful experiences of my life. You don't remember me bitching?"

  I did, vaguely. Unlike me, Maura was accommodating and friendly, almost to a fault. The brides and grooms loved her. For Maura to have an issue with a customer spoke volumes.

  "No, Vee! You listen to me!" Karen was saying.

  "The woman sucks up all the air in the room," Maura grumbled.

  "Still feel like my luck is changing?"

  She shot me a poisonous look and backed away from the counter. "You know, I just remembered I need to go restock the... thing. Maybe you could..."

  I caught her arm before she could retreat to the back room. "Oh, no you don't," I whispered fiercely. "If anything needs restocking, I will take care of it. My job is to bake the cakes and run the business, doll. Your job is to be the gorgeous, patient face of Fanaille."

  Maura sighed. "It's a good thing I find your curmudgeonly ways amusing, Caelan James."

  Karen click-clacked across the black and white checked floor, the cape of her tightly-belted trench coat flaring out behind her like some cartoon villain. She'd ignored the mat I'd placed near the front door, maybe believing I'd set it there to wipe the shoes of less important people than herself, and her high-heeled boots tracked slush all over the tiles I'd mopped that morning.

  I inhaled sharply, feeling my temper rise.

  Maura stepped up to the counter, tacking on a bright smile, and opened her mouth to greet the woman...

  And Karen held up an imperious finger, a demand for Maura not to interrupt her convo.

  Oh, no fucking way. Flirtation and stubbornness, I could handle, even if I had limited patience. But rudeness - especially to my employees - was completely unacceptable.

  Maura glanced at my face and her eyes widened in warning. "I think you need to restock now," she told me sweetly.

  I ground my back teeth together. "I changed my mind."

  "Now, Cal," she instructed. "I can handle... everything out here."

  I gave Maura a long look, but she nodded firmly. "Fine," I said, giving Karen one last glare, though she hadn't acknowledged my presence. "Call me if you need me."

  I marched into the back room, focusing on my breathing. There was nothing worse than having to hold my tongue when I was dying to deal with a problem.

  With one of those flashes of memory that come with strong emotion, I recalled Maura telling me all about this woman last fall. She was a debutante from somewhere downstate, who'd somehow hooked up with a guy who lived nearby, and they were having a destination wedding extravaganza at one of the many local inns that had become famous for exactly that.

&n
bsp; I spared a moment of silence for her poor intended groom. If I were her fiancé, I probably would have gone for the lap dance, too.

  I went to the storage room and grabbed a couple boxes of napkins and straws, then took a minute to rearrange everything in precise order, noting the supplies I'd need to reorder soon.

  It didn't take me long to leash my temper - like most people inclined to be hot-headed, I'd become proficient at that pretty early on. By the time I heard the bell over the door ring again a few minutes later, I was calm again. I grabbed my boxes and marched back out, confident I could handle the next customer.

  Holy hell, was I wrong.

  The guy stomping his feet on the mat by the front door was fucking huge - way over six feet tall and built like a god, with that whole broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted build that drives men (specifically me) insane, encased in tight jeans and a black leather jacket. He ran a hand over the snow that clung to his dark hair and turned to smile out the door, where the snow was still falling dreamily and the kids had ramped up their snow battle into something resembling all-out Armageddon. Then he turned and aimed that smile at me.

  I almost dropped my fucking boxes, and I realized I'd been standing there, staring at him like an idiot.

  "It's fierce out there," the man said, shaking his head and grinning. The storm wasn't that bad, so I knew he was talking about the kids playing. There was a twinkle in his eye, like he almost wanted to run out and join them in their game.

  I wanted to see him on his knees, smiling up at me.

  The thought stunned the shit out of me, and got me moving again. I gave him a friendly smile - the kind I swear I tried to give everyone who walked in the door, but it wasn't always this easy.

  "Did you give as good as you got?" I asked, putting my boxes down on an empty table. "With those monsters, sometimes you need to fight fire with fire."

  He grinned and his dark eyes crinkled at the corners.

  "Battle not with monsters lest you become one." He gave me a broad wink, and I gaped at him, totally stunned.

  This man - this snow-covered Adonis with the smile that gave me a sugar rush more potent than all the pastries in the display case - had just quoted Nietzsche at me.

  I mentally revised my opinion on insta-love being a real thing. I was pretty sure I was halfway there.

  "Ash! Thank God you're finally here!" Karen said, turning around to stare at my snow-god with her wide blue eyes. "This woman says she can't help us! What are we going to do?"

  I sucked in a breath.

  Of course. This man hadn't popped out of nowhere, he was Karen's groom. The one who'd lately been partying with lap dancers in Vegas.

  And so you see, children, this is why insta-love is a thing you only read about in storybooks. Because the second you find yourself hopelessly smitten, you find out the guy is already engaged to the biggest bitch on the planet. Thus endeth the lesson.

  "Cal?" Maura demanded. She looked impatient and frazzled, a total switch from the happy employee I'd left five minutes ago, and I winced. I hadn't even looked at her since I'd entered the room.

  "Yeah," I said, walking back behind the counter mentally setting my shoulders and ignoring the beautiful man. Ash, I reminded myself. He was Ash. Just like all my hopes and dreams. "What's up, Maura?"

  "You remember me telling you about Karen Mitchener," she said, gesturing politely to the woman in front of her, even though her eyes were stormy.

  "Yes, of course." I turned to Karen. "It's nice to finally meet you." I mentally tacked on Cruella DeVil. "Is there a problem?"

  "You're doing the cake for my wedding this weekend," she whined. "The Mitchener-Martin wedding?"

  I nodded. The cakes were already in my freezer, and I'd started the preliminary decorating. "Yes. We have everything set to go, just as..."

  "But I need a cake for the rehearsal dinner," she interrupted. "I need something epic."

  I looked at Maura, who shook her head, and then at Ash, who shrugged.

  "Okay. You need a cake," I repeated, trying to understand the problem. "Well, you've come to the right place." I gestured toward the display case, where there were half a dozen cakes already decorated beautifully, if I did say so myself.

  "Those are Valentine’s Day cakes," she informed me. "And this is not a Valentine's Day wedding." She turned to Ash. "Valentine's weddings and engagements are so cliché. It’s gross."

  "You think? I think they're kind of cute," Ash said, his voice all sexy and rumbly. It pissed me off that this was one more thing we had in common. Stop being so perfect, snow-god.

  Ash shrugged and smiled at Karen with strained patience. "But you're the bride."

  "Yes! Yes. I'm the bride." She glared at Maura, as though Maura might not have realized this crucial information. "And I need a cake that's not...that." She waved a dismissive hand at my cakes and I felt my nostrils flare.

  "Whoa! Dial it back, Karen," Ash told her. "Those cakes look awesome, and you insisted earlier that this was the only place in all of freakin' North America you wanted to get the cake." Behind Karen's back, he rolled his eyes at me. "I suggested getting something at the market down the street, but no."

  I chuckled, despite my annoyance. I couldn't deny that him defending me stirred something in my gut that went way beyond simple attraction. "Yeah, no. Lyon's Imperial will pretty much only sell you cake mix." I ran a hand over my jaw and considered. "Or Twinkies."

  He laughed, then clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle himself when Karen gave him an angry glare. He straightened his face completely and told me, "Twinkie cakes are so cliché."

  Life was so not fair.

  I only managed to keep myself from laughing at the outrageous, gorgeous creature by digging my fingernails into my palms, and reminding myself of the sad fact that my Valentine's Day date had an affinity with frogs.

  I nodded at Karen. "Okay, so you need a cake that's not for Valentine's Day. Tell me what you had in mind, for how many people, and when you need it for."

  "Well, it's for seventy-seven or seventy-nine people." She shot a glare at Ash. "We're still waiting to hear about two of the groom's family."

  Ash opened his mouth, then shook his head once and clicked it shut again.

  This was admirable restraint, and no lie, I was impressed. I was also really fucking aroused, wondering how far that restraint would take him. How far he could I take him before he...

  Maura's foot came down on top of mine.

  Jesus, Cal. Focus.

  "That's, uh, a large group for a rehearsal dinner, isn't it?" I asked, trying to cover my silence. "I think the wedding cake was only meant to serve one hundred and ten?" Which was still pretty large for a destination wedding, in my experience.

  Karen shrugged and examined her nails. "All my family is coming in early from out of town."

  "Right, okay! Well, when is this for?"

  "Friday," Karen said, and Maura made a choking noise that meant, See the problem?

  Friday was the day after tomorrow, and tomorrow was Valentine's Day, usually one of the busiest days of the year for us. We'd be selling dozens and dozens of cakes, cookie bouquets, and chocolate-covered strawberries to all of O'Leary's lovebirds. Our freezer stock was adequate for what we'd need, but there wasn't a surplus, and there was no way we could handle that order unless I agreed to come in very, very early or leave very, very late.

  My face must have shown my hesitation, because Ash's forehead puckered in concern, and his dark eyes suddenly looked incredibly tired.

  Ah, fuck it.

  This man wasn't meant for me, clearly, but he seemed like a really good guy nonetheless. And I didn't want to fight against my instinctive need to take care of him, to make this one thing a little better. So I said something totally unwise. "We can handle that."

  Also by May Archer

  The Love in O’Leary Series

  The Date (O’Leary #.5)

  The Fall (O’Leary #1)

  The Gift (O’Leary #2)


  The Note (O’Leary 2.5)

  The Secret (O’Leary #3)

  The World (O’Leary #3.5)

  The Fire (O’Leary #4)

  The Night (O’Leary #5)

  The Way Home Series

  The Easy Way (The Way Home #1)

  The Long Way (The Way Home #2)

  The Right Way (The Way Home #3)

  M/F Romance Written As Maisy Archer

  The Boston Doms Series

  About the Author

  May lives in Boston. She spends her days raising three incredibly sarcastic children, finding inventive ways to drive her husband crazy, planning beach vacations, avoiding the gym, reading M/M romance, and occasionally writing it. She’s also published several M/F romance titles as Maisy Archer.

  For free content and the latest info on new releases, sign up for her newsletter at: https://www.subscribepage.com/MayArcher_News

  Want to know what projects May has coming up? Check out her Facebook reader group Club May for giveaways, first-look cover reveals, and more.

  You can also catch her on Bookbub, and check out her recommended reads!