“Why do you automatically assume—oh. Right.” His chest tightened as if clamped in a vice. “Let me rephrase that. Why don’t you believe in love?” He didn’t even bother adding the hypothetical anymore.
“You really are nosey, aren’t you?” She sat up straighter and gave a little shove against his shoulders.
He stepped back, and she slid down off the counter, then turned her back to him. Quick, efficient movements transferred dirty dishes from the counter to the sink before she snatched up the dish cloth and scrubbed the entire work surface with way more force than necessary.
Asher moved around her to plug the sink. Then he started the water running while reaching for the soap sitting next to the faucet. Dishes, take two.
“What are you doing?”
Giving the bottle a good squirt into the sink, he glanced over to see Honor’s one hand fisted in the dishcloth on the counter, the other braced on her hip. A couple little soap bubbles floated up into the air between them.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Well, yeah, but why? It’s almost two a.m. Surely you’d rather go to bed?” Her cheeks flushed and she quickly added, “At your own house.”
She didn’t add alone, but her tone spoke the word loud and clear.
“Honestly?”
She hesitated, then grudgingly said, “Always.”
“I’m hoping you’ll send me home with a couple of these cupcakes as payment. After they’re frosted, of course.”
It was the truth, but not the whole truth. She’d been right about the bed, but only if she joined him. Since that wasn’t happening, he’d rather be here than there, even at two o’clock in the morning. He shut off the water and reached to take the dish cloth from her. The mere brush of their fingers sent a spark of electricity zinging up his arm.
Her quick little jerk told him she’d felt it, too.
“Didn’t you have cake at the party?”
“One thing you’ll learn about me, I can never have too much cake. And never ever have I heard of such a thing as too much frosting.”
She rolled her eyes, but not before he thought he glimpsed a smile tugging the corners of her sweet, delectable lips. Geezus, he’d love to dive in deep for another taste.
“Fine, you can have some. In fact, you can take them right now. You don’t have to work for them.” She took two off the cooling rack, then scooped up a big triangle bag of frosting lying off to the side.
Damn. Looked like his time was running out. He started washing dishes anyway. “I don’t mind—unless you do?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Her gaze bounced in his direction, then returned to the cupcake in front of her as she piped on a healthy dollop of butter cream. As if recalling his statement from a moment ago, she added a bit more.
Good Lord, I love this woman—and he was only half-joking.
“Now back to me being nosey.” Because it only made sense to make the most of his limited time. “Is it because someone broke your heart? Is that why you don’t believe in love?”
“Now I mind.”
“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely as he kept washing. “Must have been a doozy.”
“It wasn’t me,” she huffed with exasperation. “More like, my parents have seven divorces between them.”
Yeah…that could definitely skew a person’s view.
“My parents have been married for thirty-five years,” he countered. “And my—”
“Grandparents for fifty-five. And your uncles. Yeah, Roxanna told me all about them. And as I told her, they’re the exception not the rule. In addition to my parents, my brother and sister are both divorced, too. The Hartman’s don’t have happily ever after in our DNA.”
The hint of bitterness in that statement had him asking, “Have you ever been in love?”
“No, and I won’t ever be.”
The way she said it, all firm and matter of fact, made Asher snort. “Funny you think you get to decide that with your head.”
She shrugged her shoulders and finished the second cupcake, then pulled the whole cooling rack over and started on the others. Absently noting those received half the amount of frosting, he began to suspect that maybe it wasn’t so much she didn’t believe in love, but more so she didn’t know about love. What it was and how it worked.
His heart thumped with the idea he could be the one to show her.
“What about you?” she asked. “Have you ever been in love?”
“Once. Or so I thought. Bought a ring and everything.”
“What happened?”
His shoulders tensed as he scrubbed crusty batter remnants off the bowl from her first batch of cupcakes. He hated admitting he’d been totally suckered by Brianna’s act, but if he wanted Honor to be honest with him, he was going to have to do the same.
“Turned out she was only with me for the political connections that come with the Diamond name. Her ‘real’ boyfriend was in local politics, and she was using me to make inside connections so he could set up a run at the state level.”
“Wow. That’s ballsy.” She sounded offended for his sake. “Please tell me it didn’t work.”
Bittersweet satisfaction sparked a grim smile. “Not even close. He was handily defeated in the primary after word got around about how he ran his campaign. Last I heard, Brianna was no longer useful, and he dumped her after the election.”
“That’s karma for you. But it sounds like they both deserved what they got.”
In total agreement, his shoulders relaxed again. He liked that even though she didn’t believe in the elusive happily ever after, she had no problem voicing what she felt was right and wrong.
She stepped back two steps to check the oven, skimmed to the counter to exchange frosting bag for pot holders, then pivoted and opened the door to remove the two pans inside. Each movement was smooth and graceful, like part of a dance that made him want to take her in his arms and spin her around the kitchen. Why hadn’t his parents had dancing at the party?
Honor set the pans on the empty cooling racks before picking up the frosting again. “If that doesn’t make my point, I don’t know what does.”
After placing the final rinsed dish in the drying rack, Asher swiped a towel off the counter to dry his hands as she finished frosting the first batch of cooled cupcakes. “As I recall, your point was only hypothetical,” he reminded. “And, you didn’t make a point so much as ask why your beliefs would matter to your business.”
She cast him a sideways glance, then set the frosting bag aside and turned to face him. “All right, then, let me ask you a question.”
“Go ahead.”
Her gaze shifted to the treats on the counter, then bounced back to him. “How can you believe in love after something like that?”
Fair question. He shrugged one shoulder and tossed the towel aside. “She wasn’t the right one.”
“The right one?” Her brow furrowed with what looked like disappointment. “Really? You believe in psychics and soul mates?”
He tilted his head at the question, considering how best to answer. “I don’t not believe.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means…I believe…anything is possible.” Deciding he’d rather leave her with that than give her a chance to argue, he gestured toward the frosted cupcakes. “I get two of those, right?”
She hesitated a moment, looking like she might have something more to say on their discussion, but then she turned to pull a plate from the cupboard. After arranging three treats in a center triangle, she offered it to him with both hands and a smile. Anticipation surged as he took it. Not because of his sweet tooth, but because she’d given him a plate he’d have to return. Was it a deliberate move, or subconscious?
Didn’t matter. It was his open invitation to come over again.
Honor followed him to the door, stepping close to hug the edge after he swung it open. “Goodnight, Asher.”
He paused on the threshold t
o reply, but one glance at her beautiful face and he couldn’t resist lifting his free hand to cup the back of her neck while leaning down for another kiss. One more taste of heaven to get him through until he returned the plate.
Her lips softened under his, parting as his tongue sought hers. As with each time he touched her, his pulse quickened and threatened to steal his breath. With the cupcakes in his other hand, and the door partially between them, he couldn’t get as close to her heat as he’d have liked.
She’d risen up on her tiptoes, her free hand fisted in the collar of his shirt. His body urged him to dump the plate, sweep her up into his arms, and head straight to her room. Imagining the motions in his head spiked his already rapid heartbeat.
A low sound came from deep in her throat as she dropped back on her heels to break the kiss. Instinct sent him after her, but his name came from her lips in a husky whisper full of regret.
“Asher…”
He reluctantly lowered his arm and stepped back. She didn’t have to say more. They were neighbors. She didn’t want to do this.
Time to go home and give her some space.
But thanks to the glimpse of heated longing in her green eyes before her lashes lowered, it took every scrap of willpower he could muster to thank her for the cupcakes and make himself walk across the street to his own house.
He thought about how he had his work cut out for him, even as a cautious voice inside his head whispered he was setting himself up for the heartbreak of a lifetime.
Chapter 13
I believe anything is possible.
Honor shifted in bed as the memory of Asher’s deep, husky voice made her insides flutter. She’d dreamed of his kisses most of the night, and woke up hot and bothered with that one line running on a loop in her head. His words gave her hope for something she never dared dream of, even though she knew the utter folly in believing their empty promise.
She groaned in frustration while rolling over to bury her face in the pillow. It wasn’t even seven a.m. Her eyes burned, and each limb of her body felt like it weighed a hundred pounds as she lay there debating about getting up to get some housework done before getting ready for lunch with her mom and Glory, or trying to sleep a few more hours.
When the Scooby Doo theme song erupted from her night stand, she reached out to fumble for her phone without lifting her head from the pillow.
“Why are you calling so early?” she demanded of her best friend.
“It’s after ten a.m.,” Mae replied somberly. “I texted earlier, but you didn’t reply.”
Whoa. She must’ve dozed off again. “I was sleeping and didn’t realize it was so late. I ended up baking and frosting until almost three in the morning.”
“I’m not surprised. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, confused by the concern in her friend’s voice. “Should I not be?”
“Um…you tell me. What happened last night?”
Asher Diamond happened.
And I want him to happen again—and again and again and again.
Immediately after those wanton thoughts, a flashback of the scene at the party jarred her memory—the whole reason she’d been baking half the night. A tiny knot of anxiety formed in the pit of her stomach as she rolled over and sat up. “How do you know something happened?”
“The headline on Denver Today’s society blog.”
“What headline?”
“Local psychic claims wedding cake baker jinxes wedding cakes.”
The knot in her stomach grew to the size of a boulder. “Are you kidding?”
“Why would I kid about something like that?”
She wouldn’t. Honor flipped the covers aside and hurried downstairs to the living room where she’d left her laptop.
“What happened?” Mae repeated.
“Hold on.” She typed the blog into the search bar and sure enough, there it was—with twice as many views as Governor Diamond Announces Run for U.S. Senate. As she skimmed the article, her heart pounded hard while nausea churned in her stomach.
“Not a witch, my ass,” Honor muttered when she reached the last line of the bullshit post. “She did hex me.”
“The psychic?”
“Yeah. Turns out she’s friends with my neighbor.”
“She’s friends with the sexy jerk? Small world.”
“It gets even better. My neighbor is Asher Diamond—Celia Diamond’s brother. The governor’s son.”
“Oh, wow. It really is a small world.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Was he at the party last night?”
“Yeah, and he’s actually not the jerk I thought he was.”
“Do tell.”
She explained about him thinking she was engaged and Mae laughed.
“He walked away because he was so attracted to you he didn’t want to make a move when he thought you were engaged? Guy’s got game.”
Honor smiled. Asher definitely had game, and she so wanted to play even when she knew she shouldn’t.
“Slam dunk on the wedding, then?”
“Not so much. Celia and her mother gave me a yes until this psychic chick messed everything up. She totally ruined Mrs. Diamond’s dress, and as you can see, my reputation, too.”
“They changed their mind that fast?”
“I haven’t heard anything from them yet, but look at this shit.” She gestured toward the laptop screen even though her friend couldn’t see her. “Would you hire me for your wedding?”
“Of course I would,” Mae insisted loyally. “I don’t believe in that psychic crap.”
“Well, unfortunately, a lot of other people who are not my best friends do believe in that psychic crap.” Including Asher, apparently. She made a face as she recalled their conversation about love and soul mates at two o’clock in the morning. But with his genuine, “I believe anything is possible,” how could she hold it against him? No one was perfect.
Her phone dinged for an incoming voicemail. “I should probably let you go to see what kind of damage control I need to do.”
“If there’s anything I can help with, let me know.”
“You want to take some cupcakes off my hands?” The three she’d given Asher hadn’t even made a dent.
“How many batches did you make?”
Mae knew she was prone to going overboard when she was upset. “Just two, but they were double batches. I have almost four dozen here.”
“I could take some for Ian’s class tomorrow.”
“You got ‘em. I’m meeting my mom and Glory for lunch, so I’ll drop them by on the way.”
“Bring them by the office. I’m here until three.”
“It’s Sunday.”
“The perks of being a CEO,” Mae said with a wry laugh. “Ian’s with my parents, so I figured I’d get some work done without feeling bad about taking time away from him.”
“All right then. And I’ve got two boxes, so you’ll have extras for the crew, too.”
“I’ll have hugs ready.”
“Thanks.” Her gaze shifted back to the headline on her laptop screen. “I’m gonna need ‘em.”
After they hung up, she read the blog post one more time, her anger rising at both the author and Roxanna Kent. Lift Your Spirit ended up with quite the nice plug, while Honor Hartman Cake Designs got creamed in the PR department.
The first voicemail she listened to was a cancellation for the end of June, and the second for a wedding in August. The knots in her stomach wound tighter when she clicked over to her email and found another June cancellation had been sent fifteen minutes earlier.
All the jobs had been on the books for more than six months, since many brides scheduled up to a year in advance. Usually she refunded deposits only if she was able to fill the slot with another bride, but she’d never strictly enforced the policy. She wouldn’t have much choice now, though. Two jobs equaled more than half her mortgage payment.
Another email cancellation popped up on her scree
n, from a bride she’d recently agreed to fit in at the end of the summer. She’d been willing to work double hours that week for the extra income. Now, she might be left twiddling her thumbs with no work at all.
“I’m going to be bankrupt in days if this keeps up,” she muttered.
After a few moments of wallowing and increasingly feeling sick to her stomach, she made a conscious decision to stop looking at the situation negatively and instead concentrate on a way to fix it.
Her insistence last night that Roxanna was wrong hadn’t made a difference to the author of the blog post. The article was a load of hocus-pocus nonsense that didn’t even tell both sides of the story. She needed proof that her cakes didn’t jinx her clients. As she’d said, law of averages. Out of hundreds of couples, it was to be expected that some of them wouldn’t last.
She pulled up her master client list and looked up the three Roxanna had named. Carson and Hannah Swanson. Adam and Amy Wilson. Ty and Jules Lambert.
Her stomach knotted as she dialed Jules’ number. She was waffling between hoping for the woman to answer and praying for voicemail when a live, “Hello?” made her pulse skip.
“Jules? Um, it’s Honor Hartman. I designed your wedding cake a couple of years ago?” Two years ago in June.
“Yeah…hi.” Confusion colored her voice. “What can I do for you?”
“I…ah…”
Darn it. Should’ve thought this through better. It wasn’t like she could blurt out something as ludicrous as, “Did my cake ruin your marriage?”
Drawing in a fortifying breath, she went with, “This may sound like a weird question, but are you and Ty still together?”
There was a brief, weighted pause. “No, actually, we’re not.”
“Oh.” Dismay pooled in her belly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“So am I.” Sadness softened Jules’ voice as she added, “But it is what it is.”
Honor squeezed her eyes shut and forged ahead. “Do you mind me asking what happened?”
“Um…well, I guess not. I thought we both wanted kids. We never actually talked about it, but he’s amazing with his nieces and nephews, so I had just assumed he’d want his own.”
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