“Right?” the first mom said again. “I mean, I pin things like this all day long, but I know I’ll never actually do any of it.”
As far as Mike was concerned, these women were speaking a foreign language, and he was getting more than a little annoyed at their tone regarding Anne. Why? He had no clue, but they were just jealous bitches as far as he was concerned. He felt only respect and amazement when he looked around at what she’d done for her daughter, but he also wasn’t a woman, and as every man knew, women could be a little crazy. One of the comments made him curious, probably too curious for his own good, but he wanted to know more. He found himself leaning into the woman closest to him. She must have sensed his presence and tilted her head toward him, a wide smile on her face.
“So Anne has a website?” he asked.
“Oh yeah.” She turned fully, her eyes lighting up. “She has this amazing blog with two of her friends. My Perfect Little Life, where she highlights all these parties she does, and the other ladies post other stuff, too. I mean it’s crazy creative stuff that the average person wants to do, but doesn’t really have time for, you know what I mean?”
He didn’t really know, but he nodded in agreement and fake enthusiasm. “That sounds interesting.”
“Oh my gosh, it’s totally interesting, you should … well, I don’t know if a guy like you would like it, but you could find something cool for Bailey to do on there I’m sure.”
He was trying to figure out what she meant by a guy like him, although he was pretty sure he knew, when Anne came back outside with another woman, a cute little blonde wearing jeans and a pink T-shirt. She had her curly hair in a messy bun and her front was covered with flour and what he hoped was chocolate. When she walked closer he read her T-shirt. CALLIE’S CONFECTIONS. He was pretty sure he recognized the name from an awning down on Main Street.
The other moms immediately began singing praises about the cupcakes and cake pops to the woman, as if most of them hadn’t been on the verge of real shit talk just moments before. Even the tone of their voices changed. Were all women capable of this complete 180? He’d heard of this kind of behavior, but witnessing it was nuts.
Suddenly something occurred to him as he glanced at Anne. Her left hand was lifted, her fingers lightly fidgeting with a beaded necklace that rested on her golden skin. Anne wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Huh. Now, that was interesting. The thought of her being … available made everything around him look different. The world shifted and all the pink and … no, all the raspberry and aqua seemed a lot more vibrant and interesting. Not to mention the guilt of potentially becoming a home wrecker lifting off his shoulders and bringing a lot of possibilities. She caught him staring and gave him a small smile before looking away. When was the last time just a woman’s smile threatened to give him a hard-on?
He spotted a grill tucked away behind the party and he instantly pictured himself there and making Anne dinner, sitting outside on a beautiful evening in this backyard, a cold … jar in his hand. Shit, he needed to stop thinking. This woman and her Better Homes and Gardens lifestyle were really fucking with his brain. She was gorgeous, stylish, and instead of thinking about how sexy she’d look out of that dress, covered only in him, she had him considering a life that included more than a cold beer and a hot date, but a house that felt like a home, family. The way Anne made everything and everyone feel special—damn, it was hot as hell, and crazy appealing.
That thought sobered him and brought his fantasizing back into focus. He wasn’t polished or fancy. He was dirty cars, facial hair, and longneck bottles. He was definitely not meant for little kids and parties with handcrafted goody bags. Hell, he was wearing one of his better T-shirts and nice jeans, yet he still felt out of place. This woman was a catch—that much was obvious—but she wasn’t for someone like him.
As the party wrapped up, Mike excused himself from the table, on a mission to grab Bailey and leave, when all the little girls ran inside. He followed, just in time to catch sight of them running up the stairs. Well, he certainly wasn’t going to follow her up into the personal living space. He walked back toward the kitchen and straight into Anne. They stopped in the narrow hallway between the living room and the kitchen, their bodies close. A light sheen of perspiration had built up on her cleavage and on her temples. He realized the floral smell wasn’t only the home, it was also her.
“Hey, this was a really nice party, Anne. Bailey seemed to have a great time,” he said.
“Thank you for bringing her. Bailey and Claire have become best friends this year at school. I think the party turned out well, too.” She looked genuinely happy about his comment, which made him think of a few inappropriate things he’d like to thank her for. He took a deep breath and tried to resist his baser urges, the ones telling him to get closer … ask her out, say something to let her know he was into her.
No, he’d already decided that was not going to happen. Never mind the fact that his sister would kill him if while doing her a favor he ended up trying to hook up with one of the school moms. As if Anne was even the hookup type. No, she was definitely the making-love kind of woman. He expected her to rotate any second, put some space between them, but she shocked him by stepping slightly closer as she spoke.
“So, I … um, put some stuff in a box.” He glanced down, and she was holding a pink pastry box with the Callie’s Confection’s logo on it. He raised an eyebrow, and she instantly looked embarrassed. “I mean, there were just so many cupcakes left … and Lord knows the last thing I need is more sweets in the house.”
She bit her bottom lip and scrunched up her nose in the most adorable nervous tic he’d ever seen. He was pretty sure she was trying to flirt with him by giving him take-home treats. She wasn’t offering any of the moms boxes to take home. At least he didn’t think she was. In that moment he wanted to take the awkwardness away, assure her that flirting with him was not only welcome, but a complete turn-on.
“You’re perfect. I think you should eat all the sweets you want.” He edged closer, placing his fingers over hers on the box. The sharp hitch of her breath made him feel a little bolder and a lot like ignoring the part of his brain telling him this was not a good idea. She chewed again lightly at her lower lip, the sight of it sending inappropriate signals throughout his body. Well, fuck it. “And thank you, I’m sure what you’re offering is … delicious,” he murmured.
Her lips parted on a tiny gasp and he worried he had gone too far, misunderstood the gesture. Some women liked to feed the dude in the room. But then her expression softened. Her mouth slid into a little smile, relaxing his nerves along with it. She was so out of his league, and he didn’t exactly fit the mold of ready-made stepdad. At least he hoped he didn’t. So what really was her motivation? Maybe she was interested in a little fun.
“You know.” Her head tipped to the side and her voice had gotten soft. “Claire and I were going to head to Settlers Park in about an hour … you are more than welcome to bring Bailey and meet us there. I mean since they’re best friends…”
“Oh, Anne, I’d love to, but—” Shit, there was nothing more he would like to do than go to the park with Anne, which surprised him almost as much as her asking him to do it. But he had a date with Katie. He couldn’t even bring himself to say it out loud. “I can’t.”
“Oh my gosh, I mean, of course. God, I’m so sorry, I don’t even know why I asked…” She made the cute little scrunched face again, and it was killing him to see her uncomfortable. He didn’t want Anne to regret being forward with him, hell it was amazing, but why did she have to suggest today of all days? “It’s Saturday, you probably have … oh gosh, you would never want to go to the park. Never mind, the girls will see each other at school, and gymnastics class or … something.”
“Uncle Mike has a hot date tonight. He told me.” Bailey was jumping down the stairs above them, and each thud of her feet hitting the squeaky old wood matched the pounding of his heart as he watched the expression of understanding a
nd then embarrassment on Anne’s face.
“Well … good for you. How fun, it’s such a beautiful day. It should be, umm, perfect for a date.” Anne’s words were excited and over-the-top happy, making this even harder and more uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry—” he started.
“Oh goodness, stop.” She held a hand up to shush him and smiled. “No need for all that, let me just, um. Let me get Bailey’s goodie bag and you guys can get outta here.”
She walked away, her pink dress swishing around her legs. He caught her rubbing her temple, a gesture that implied she was upset or embarrassed, and it pissed him off that the situation had gone from flirty to awkward in a matter of seconds. It was only a hunch, but he would bet that Anne Edmond didn’t make the first move often. She likely wouldn’t be repeating it anytime soon after this.
Then again, maybe it didn’t really bother her. Hell, it wasn’t like she could possibly be looking for something serious, not with some random blue-collar guy that showed up at her daughter’s birthday party. She probably felt safe flirting with him, testing the waters before she worked up to someone who was her equal, someone she would want to build a family with in this cute little house. It was really for the best. He had no business considering spending any more time with Anne because they were complete opposites and she needed the sushi-loving man who wore a tie. Mike was not that guy. No, he was the man that would get grease stains on her matching pillows. It wasn’t a natural fit, not by a long shot, and he’d known it from the moment he laid eyes on her.
He had done his job, covered for Erin, played the parent for the day, and now it was time to go back to his very unpink, uncluttered, and unhomemade life. He had a date with Katie and he was pretty damn sure her hobbies were more of the carnal variety. Which was exactly what he needed in order to forget Anne Edmond.
Two
The last guest had finally left. Claire was upstairs going through her new loot, and Anne headed into the kitchen to find her best friend, Callie, at the giant farmhouse sink gently washing the vintage cake stands she’d used for the desserts. Thank goodness for friends who helped you clean up messes without having to be asked. Anne didn’t know what she’d do without Callie and their other close friend Lindsey. Not only were those two women the creative geniuses who helped make their blog the success that it was, but they’d become critical to Anne’s happiness. They were truly the best friends she’d ever had, and always willing to talk her off the edge if need be. Like now.
“Callie, I think I’m gonna throw up,” Anne said, holding a hand to her stomach before plopping into a kitchen chair. It was time for the Spanx to come off and the yoga pants to go on. But first she needed to wallow in the embarrassment and humiliation she’d just endured due to her own stupidity.
“What’s wrong?” Callie patted a milk-glass cake stand with a towel. “Everything looked amazing, and holy shit that dad and his muscles were a hot addition to the festivities. Did you see his ass in those jeans? If you could include him in birthday packages, you’d be booked until the next millennium.”
Anne held back a groan. Why did he stay? If he had just left, like every other normal guy, everything would have been fine. But he had stayed, even when she was pretty sure he hadn’t planned on it, and that made her think that—that maybe he was interested. Interested in her. He’d made those comments about her thing—was she really so old and disconnected that she’d confused a harmless comment for innuendo? Surely she hadn’t misunderstood the tone of his voice, because she could have sworn he was throwing out vibes. But that was crazy. She was thirty-two, a single mom, and on the wrong side of curvy.
“I did something really stupid. I don’t even want to tell you about it.” Anne dropped her head into her hands.
“Please tell me you finally told Kelly Hobbs that skinny jeans are not her friend,” Callie said. Anne looked up with a start.
“Oh my gosh, right? No woman who’s had five children should be wearing skinny jeans, especially yellow ones. I think she buys them in every color of the rainbow. But no, no, no, no.” Anne waved her hands in front of her face. “It’s worse, so much worse, and it has to do with the hot guy. And he’s not Bailey’s dad, he’s Uncle Mike.”
She sneaked a glance at Callie, who had gone utterly still, her eyes wide and a smile playing at her lips.
“Uncle Mike, huh? That’s kind of hot.” Callie came around the small island and joined Anne at the kitchen table. “What did you do?”
“I gave him food.” Anne moaned, nearly in agony. She shifted on the chair, reached up under her dress, struggled for a moment, then much to her relief pulled off her Spanx—all of which Callie ignored because they were that kind of friends—and tossed them into the chair next to her before sagging back down in relief.
“Well, sweetie, you fed everyone here. That was like … a herd feeding,” Callie said.
“No, I gave him one of your fancy little boxes with extra cake pops and a cupcake. In addition to the herd feeding, to take home.”
“Oh wow, so it was a direct feeding. I mean, not direct as in you held a cupcake up for him to take a bite. But exclusive. Like, I want you to lick-this-buttercream-at-home-tonight-and-think-of-me kind of offering. And my buttercream is the shit, by the way, so good move.”
“Ugh, yes! God, I’m so stupid. And he used that same word, offering.”
“Seriously? What did he say?”
Anne made a pained face as she recited back his words. “He said, ‘I’m sure what you’re offering is delicious.’”
Callie’s eyes bulged and her mouth dropped open. “No freaking way. Wait, how did he say it? Was it ‘I’m sure what you’re offering is delicious.’ Or was it ‘I’m sure what you’re offering is … delicious.’ There’s a subtle but very important difference.”
“Hell, I don’t know, there was a pause, and a—”
“Was there a smolder?” Callie was nearly on the edge of her seat doing her best smolder imitation. Too bad she didn’t know yet how this had all ended, because it had all gone so very wrong.
“Maybe, I mean, I thought it was something, but you don’t know the worst part. I asked him … to go to the park with us tonight.” Anne threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. Her idiotic behavior with Uncle Mike was inexcusable, and so incredibly embarrassing. She didn’t ask guys to do anything except write checks for their kids’ fancy birthday parties. And he’d said no, with a look of pity on his super-hot, chiseled, scruffy face. Who knew not shaving could be so sexy? She’d wanted to feel it against her skin more than anything. But that was never going to happen. Ugh.
“Oh sweetie, what the hell were you thinking?” Callie’s incredulous and pity-filled tone was the final straw. “The park? That is so not hot.”
Anne leaned forward before getting hysterical. “Yes, the park! I’m an idiot, I know. A hot, muscly, young—too young I’m sure—totally sexy guy came to my party and I asked him to go to the fucking park … with me and my child. What the hell is wrong with me?”
She had whispered the last bit since she didn’t want Claire to hear her cursing. Anne rarely cursed—usually only after speaking to her ex or in very drastic or traumatizing situations. This was one of the latter. She was trying hard not to picture him, disheveled dark hair and hard biceps. The way his jeans had ridden low on his hips like he’d just rolled out of a big manly bed and thrown them on. He was celebrity-level hot, built as solid as an athlete, and the deep blue of his eyes had made her a little crazy. Why she had ever thought he would say yes to such an outrageous offering was beyond reason.
“He didn’t look that young, but I’m gonna assume he said no since we’re having this conversation.”
“Of course he said no, Cal. Look at me! I’m a chubby mommy who corrected his colors. ‘No, Mr. Hottest Guy Who Has Ever Stepped Into My Home, that is not pink, it’s raspberry thank you very much, and here’s your grown-up drink with a goddamn straw. By the way, how does a playdate sound?’” Anne was compl
etely exasperated and furious with herself. She should have known just by looking at him that there was no way he was interested. “He was probably thinking I was the most ridiculous woman he’d ever encountered. Why Callie, why?”
“Good grief, Anne, don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m proud of you for putting yourself out there. It was good practice, don’t be discouraged. Next time just … don’t mention parks and invite small children. Right?” Callie stood up and grabbed the towel to dry the rest of the dishes.
“Thanks for the encouragement, but that was scarring. I don’t ask guys out, and this is why. I don’t even meet guys. I plan parties for people under the age of eighteen, which usually only involves married men or grandfathers.”
“Hey, don’t knock it,” Callie said with a laugh. Anne shot her a dirty look. Callie continued, “You know I’m teasing. Listen, it’s Saturday night, which means I have really big plans, but I think Downton Abbey and my newest bottle of Moscato will forgive me if I’m a little late.”
Callie grabbed the leftover bottle of sparkling wine, a glass, and a cupcake. She set them down on the table in front of Anne. “Why don’t you take these, draw a bubble bath, and drink your worries away while I take Claire to the park to burn off the excitement of receiving eight new Barbies.”
Anne slumped into the chair again. “I love you.”
“And I love you. We may stop by Tomatillos for some unhealthy dinner. If I’m gonna cheat on Downton, I’m goin’ all-out. I’ll bring you some of those chicken tacos you like.”
“Extra cheese and guacamole?” Anne said quietly, feeling marginally better.
“You got it. This level of self-pity calls for extra everything.”
Anne gave a weak smile as Callie gathered her purse and some of the supplies she’d delivered that morning with the baked goods. Callie was the owner of Callie’s Confections on the little Main Street in Preston, a trendy strip of boutique shops, restaurants, and antiques stores. She also was part of the My Perfect Little Life team. MPLL—as the three women affectionately referred to it—was a blog that Anne had started on a whim four years ago after creating a dream two-year-old party for Claire.
Start Me Up Page 2
