“Nick.” Debbie Mattson stepped out from the back of the shop and greeted him with a dimpled smile. “I was wondering if I’d be seeing you soon. I take it you’re here to order your regular?”
He nodded. “Chocolate on chocolate.” As his father liked to say, you don’t mess with the best, and everyone vowed Debbie’s moist chocolate fudge cake was the best.
“When did you want to pick it up?”
“Next Friday. Maddie and I will stop by here on the way to my parents’ house.”
As Debbie wrote on an order form sitting next to the register, she asked, “How’s Maddie doing? Is she looking forward to getting back to school?”
“It’s kind of tough to tell what she’s thinking lately,” Nick admitted.
But he was counting the days until the school year started. Not because he wanted his daughter out of his hair, but because he still couldn’t shake the feeling that his ex was up to something. She’d been a little too accommodating lately—calling at agreed-upon times, taking a few minutes to talk to him before asking to speak with Maddie.
Carol was never that agreeable unless she wanted something. But whatever she was planning, she was running out of time. Once Maddie was back in school, she couldn’t go on any trips. And Nick could breathe easy....at least until fall break rolled around.
“Well, she has to be excited about being Sophia’s flower girl,” Debbie was saying. “Speaking of the wedding, I was wondering if you’d be able to do me a favor and taste test some wedding cakes.”
“Shouldn’t that be up to the bride and groom?”
“And Sophia and Jake will taste the cake—as soon as I can narrow down the choices. Sophia has a wedding dress to fit into and I know she feels a little self-conscious being a pregnant bride. She doesn’t need to sample two dozen cakes just because I love them all.”
“I’m sure she’s already said so, but I know how much the work you’re doing for her wedding means to Sophia, and the whole family is grateful for the way you’ve welcomed her back home.”
After the break-in at Hope Daniels’s shop and the blame that had fallen on Sophia, his sister had been reluctant to return to her hometown. But Debbie had embraced his sister, never having believed the Learys’ version of the break-in.
“I’m just glad she’s back. She’s a Clearville girl. This is where she belongs.”
“You’re right about that.” He shouldn’t have been surprised that Debbie shared his view. After all, she was a Clearville girl, too. “So, two dozen cakes, huh? I didn’t know there even were that many kinds.”
“It’s not just the cake. It’s the combination of frosting and filling and layers and—” Cutting herself off, she said, “Wait here,” before disappearing into the back of the bakery. After a few minutes, she returned with a silver platter balanced in her hands. Thinly sliced pieces of cake rested on individual plates. “I talk too much as it is. Time to let the cakes speak for themselves.”
She didn’t have to ask him twice. The first piece to catch his eye was, not surprisingly, a rich chocolate with a raspberry filling. One bite of the decadent chocolate and tart berries was enough to make him think he’d died and gone to dessert heaven. “That’s it,” he said, knowing the only way Debbie could possibly top it was if she pulled a gallon of milk from her apron. “That’s the one.”
She grinned but pushed another piece his way. “You can’t make a fair decision until you try them all.”
He tried three more—a white cake with what Debbie told him was a lemon curd filling, an angel food with banana-strawberry cream and a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. The last was white with a dusting of coconut like snow on a winter’s day.
Still thinking the chocolate raspberry couldn’t be beat, Nick stabbed a small piece with the fork and took a bite. Then another. And another. The coconut with just a hint of pineapple melted on his taste buds and created a kind of craving that a bite or two would never satisfy. “This... this is amazing.”
“Better than chocolate?” Debbie teased.
“Better than—”
Sex.
The expression was one he’d never understood because, well, come on. But as the thought filtered through his mind, he knew why the tropical flavors had stirred something inside—a hunger he couldn’t satisfy because it had nothing to do with cake.
“I know it’s a departure from the typical wedding cake,” Debbie was saying, “but it’s my take on a piña colada.”
“It’s, um, amazing.”
“Really? Because for a second there, you didn’t seem so sure.”
Maybe because during that second, memories of the almost kiss in Darcy’s kitchen had assailed him so strongly, he would have sworn she was once more standing next to him, only a hairsbreadth away. “It’s incredible, Debbie, really. Just unexpected.”
Though, much to Nick’s frustration, it probably shouldn’t have been. He’d already learned over the past week that out of sight wasn’t out of mind when it came to the gorgeous redhead. He couldn’t drive by her shop without glancing through the front window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Like Debbie’s bite-size cakes, those quick passes simply left him wanting more.
“So, you think it’s the one?”
He looked down at the tiny plate he’d scraped spotless with the edge of the plastic fork and felt his face start to heat. If Debbie hadn’t been standing on the opposite side of the counter, he probably would have licked the plate clean. “Actually, no. Don’t get me wrong, it’s my favorite.”
“I noticed,” the baker said with a cheeky smile.
“But it’s—well, it’s not right for a wedding. It’s too unusual, too...exotic. I think you’re better off going with something more—”
“Boring?”
“I was going to say traditional,” he argued, feeling a little defensive and wondering if he was even still talking about wedding cakes. “Nothing you make is boring, and both the chocolate and strawberry-banana were great.”
“I knew I could count on you, Nick.”
“Oh, yeah, you can always count on me to eat whatever you make.”
“No, not just that.” Debbie eyed him thoughtfully. “When I try something new or different, most people around here will tell me it’s ‘good’ or ‘fine’ even if they hate it. But you—you don’t sugarcoat your opinion.”
“Is that another way of saying I’m rude?” he asked wryly. Carol had peppered almost every conversation during their marriage with questions that had no right answers, and she’d told him on more than one occasion that he was too brusque, too sharp, too rough around the edges.
“No, not rude. Honest. Unfailingly honest.” Debbie grinned. “I like that about you, Nick.”
As he half listened to Debbie talk about her plans for Sophia and Jake’s wedding cake, Nick realized there was a lot to like about Debbie, too. She was Clearville born and raised—just like he was. She had deep roots in the town and ran her own business—just like he did. In fact, Debbie had been working at her family’s bakery since she was a little kid, then taking over more and more of the duties while she was still in high school when her mother fell ill.
She was smart and funny and kind. That she baked like a dream went without saying, and she was good with children, too. Nick had been in her shop enough times to see the bite-size cookies she kept on hand to pass out to any kids who crossed her threshold. She wasn’t model thin like Carol and didn’t have Darcy’s elegant curves, but Debbie had always been comfortable with her full figure, and with her blond curls and blue eyes, she was very pretty.
How had he never noticed that before?
“Anyway, I— Nick, are you okay? You just had the strangest expression on your face.”
“Fine, yes. Sure.”
Debbie could be the right woman—the one he and Maddie needed. With the baker staring at him quizzically, Nick waited for...something. A spark, a flicker, a hint of attraction. But other than the fondness he’d always felt, there was nothing.
/>
A wave of disappointment washed over him followed by a faint undertow that almost felt like...relief. He could still sense Debbie watching though the plate-glass window after they had said their goodbyes and he left the bakery. She was a great girl. Everything he thought he wanted. And yet... Was it wrong of him to want something more?
Irritated, Nick started walking as if he could march his thoughts into submission. Hadn’t he learned his lesson with Carol? He’d fallen hard for her and landed even harder. That sudden breath-stealing desire—the kind he felt for Darcy—didn’t last.
And even though he’d watched her from a distance this past week, as she worked long hours to remodel the shop on her own, just as she had said she would, he couldn’t forget what she’d already told him.
This was the kind of thing she’d done her whole life—fixing a place up before moving on. And while that abandoned, empty space she’d rented might be in better shape by the time she packed up and left, if he let her into his life, into the abandoned, empty space in his heart, he damn well wouldn’t be able to say the same.
* * *
Standing in the middle of her shop, Darcy stared at the shades of dirt on the carpet and wondered where to begin. She supposed at one time, the carpeting had an actual pattern, but between being faded and worn and stained, the whole thing was now an indistinguishable mess. Unfortunately, removing it was going to be an even bigger mess, but she had little choice. No way was she opening her shop with this carpeting down on these floors.
Early morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows she’d washed and dried and then washed some more until not a water spot or streak remained. The previous weekend’s storm had blown away the clouds and fog that occasionally rolled in and out with the tide, and she had the front door open to welcome in the fresh, clean air. She’d come prepared, bringing her tools with her along with safety goggles and a mask.
A must for summer accessories, she thought with a smile, and the perfect way to complete her working wardrobe of worn, paint-splattered jeans and faded blue tank top.
She’d meant every word when she had told Nick Pirelli she wasn’t afraid to get dirty, and it was time to prove it.
Not to him, of course, Darcy thought as she picked a threadbare spot in the corner to start peeling back the carpet. She and her mother had carried this dream through every move they’d made for the past two decades. Really, it had nothing at all to do with the oh-so-serious vet who’d never dreamed a day in his life. Nothing to do with proving her shop wouldn’t be one of those places that had a going-out-of-business sale before the grand opening signs came down. Nothing to do with showing him that she wasn’t some city girl who would hightail it back to “civilization” the first time she couldn’t find the latest fashions in Clearville.
Nothing to do with him at all.
But Darcy had to admit the “more” Nick spoke about wanting had crept into her thoughts on an almost embarrassingly regular basis, along with a few fantasies of just what that simple word might mean. She’d done the right thing in refusing his vague offer, if he’d even intended his comment as some kind of proposition, but like anyone quitting caffeine cold turkey, the more she told herself she couldn’t have it, the more she craved it.
And she couldn’t help thinking that “more,” no matter how much less it might be than she wanted, was still better than the nothing she had now.
A broad-shouldered shadow passed over the wall in front of her a second before Darcy heard the scrape of a boot against the doorjamb. Her pulse danced a happy beat until she glanced over her shoulder.
Daydreaming about Nick Pirelli, it turned out, was not enough to make the man appear. Rising to her feet, she faced Travis Parker. She pushed her safety goggles onto the top of her head but kept the hammer in hand as she asked, “What are you doing here, Travis?”
The sandy-haired man grinned, cockiness backing his stride as he sauntered in as if she’d welcomed him with open arms. “You haven’t returned my calls.”
Which a smarter man would recognize as a woman’s desire not to talk to him again. “I’ve been busy getting my shop ready.”
“So I see.”
Only he wasn’t looking at her shop. Refusing to squirm beneath his overly interested stare, she said, “Then you can see how busy I am. I don’t have time—”
“All the more reason for me to lend a hand. So you and I will have time.”
She shook her head. Some guys just didn’t get it. And if she allowed him to take another two steps closer, Darcy had a good idea his “helping” hands would be following the path his eyes had already taken.
“Thanks for the offer, Travis...”
Anyone else would have heard the “but” coming next from a mile away. Not Travis. “You are more than welcome,” he said over her unspoken protest as he sidled closer.
His charmer’s grin was firmly in place, but Darcy wondered if the man wasn’t used to hearing the word no or if he purposely ignored women when they said it. “And don’t you worry about payment. We can work something out together.”
The night Nick had answered her emergency call, she’d teased him about bartering for services, hoping to crack through his stiff exterior and to see him relax into a smile. But with Travis, Darcy didn’t feel like joking, and his smile was making her skin crawl.
“Like I was saying, thank you—but no thank you. I’m not looking for help—”
“Darcy already has all the help she needs.”
The no-nonsense words came from the doorway, and a shiver of awareness raced down her spine. Even with Travis blocking her line of sight, Darcy recognized the deep voice. So, too, did Travis if the tightening of his jaw and puffed-out chest were anything to go by. Turning to face the other man, he said, “Didn’t know you were in the handyman business, Doc.”
“I’m not. But my brother runs one of the most successful contracting companies around. You know that, Parker.”
Darcy might not have understood the history behind it, but she recognized the dig in Nick’s words as easily as Travis did. The other man’s hands fisted at his sides. “This isn’t the kind of job Drew takes on.”
“He would for friends of the family.”
Friends. Darcy didn’t know exactly what to make of that, but the friends-of-the-Pirellis tag Nick bestowed upon her seemed to do the trick. Travis shot her a final, disgruntled look before striding toward the door. A brief, silent battle of wills took place as he and Nick stood toe to toe, but when the vet refused to give ground, Travis circled around and stormed out onto the sidewalk.
Exhaling a sigh of relief, Darcy said, “Thank you. I could have handled it myself—”
“Yeah, I bet you could.” Nick stepped closer and reached out. Only when his fingers closed around her wrist and lifted her arm did she realize she still held the hammer. “I’m almost sorry I didn’t get to see you use this.”
Giving a slightly embarrassed laugh, she set aside the tool on the worn checkout counter. “Travis doesn’t understand subtle hints.”
“Hmm, guess maybe those meaningless dates of yours meant more to him than they did to you.”
Darcy opened her mouth to argue, but the words stuck in her throat. After all, she had said they’d been meaningless dates, but that didn’t mean all her dates were meaningless. A date with Nick... That would mean way too much if her rapidly pounding heart was anything to go by.
“Something tells me Travis will live to harass another day.”
“Do you have to ward off all your former dates with hammers?”
“No. Sometimes I break out the power tools.”
Darcy wasn’t sure which of them was more startled by Nick’s sudden bark of laughter, but the deep, unexpected sound settled deep in her belly, tumbling and turning and encouraging her to join in.
She wasn’t sure when laughter faded into silence.... When the nerves in her stomach trembled with something so much more potent... When the spark in his eyes caught fire...
“Nick.”
His name was a mere whisper of sound, but it captured his full attention. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she ran her tongue over her lower lip as if she could already taste him there. Her pulse pounded through her veins, and Darcy realized this was no caffeine addiction. Her need for Nick went so much deeper than that. Straight to her heart, she feared, and if he didn’t kiss her... If he didn’t kiss her now...
The echo of his name was still on her lips when his mouth claimed hers. His body trapped her against the counter, only she didn’t feel the need to escape. She couldn’t imagine any other place she wanted to be.
The room spun in circles and the morning light filling the shop dimmed into intimate shadows. Caught up in his kiss, Darcy didn’t realize it wasn’t only the brush of his lips, the tempting stroke of his tongue, the heat and strength of his body making her head whirl. Only when she felt the wall at her back did she figure out that those slightly dizzying turns had been Nick guiding them into the small hallway at the back of the shop, out of view from the plate-glass windows.
Not total privacy, not enough privacy, but she would take what she could get. She would take whatever Nick would give. He must have sensed her thoughts as he angled his head, deepening the kiss, and pressed his body’s full length to hers. Her knees trembled, but with the wall at her back and Nick in front of her, her bones could have melted into wax and she wouldn’t have moved. Didn’t want to move.
She fisted her hands in the back of his shirt, soft cotton warmed by the heat of his skin, and tugged, wanting to feel that heat, that skin free of any barriers. She whispered his name as his lips burned a trail down her throat, but it was another sound—the faint tinkling of the bell over her door—that had them both freezing.
Holding her breath, Darcy tried to hear over the pulse still pounding in her ears. But there was nothing. No sound of footsteps, no curious hello. “Must have been the wind,” she said, but Nick had already pulled away.
He tucked in his shirt, smoothed his hands through his hair, erasing all signs of what just happened before he finally met her gaze. “Darcy—”
Darcy and the Single Dad Page 8
