He gave a small nod and finally put down the box in his hand. “Yes, being busy is good.”
“I promise I’ll make it up to you. We bust ass today and tonight we go to Smokey’s, okay? Sound good, Anne?”
“Oh … I don’t—”
Callie shot her a glare.
“Of course,” Anne said changing her tune. “Smokey’s sounds like fun.”
A grin spread across Eric’s face. Callie definitely knew how to speak the guy’s language. Smokey’s was a bar in town that drew a decent crowd on the weekend, students from a nearby college making up a huge part of the clientele. It wasn’t always ideal for Anne, but Callie and Eric—who were only twenty-seven—loved it. Anne usually had a good time once she got there, but dancing never called to her the way it did the others. She was just getting way too old. Plus she often didn’t want to spend her weekends away from Claire. Unfortunately Claire was with her father this weekend so she had no easy out.
Yet after all of her recent embarrassments with a certain mechanic, maybe it was just what she needed. Mindless fun and flirting could be just what the doctor ordered to forget the sexy Mike Everett.
Callie grabbed the tray of fresh iced cinnamon rolls from Anne and headed for the front of the store while Anne and Eric prepped more trays. She was always reminded how impressive it was that Callie had managed to build such a lucrative business in just a little over a year here in Preston. When they’d first met she was baking out of her apartment, taking custom orders, and selling at the farmers’ market. Now she was selling out daily, and still doing custom orders every week—at least her kitchen was now commercial. On top of that she managed to post new recipes to the blog twice a week, and the readers loved Callie’s recipes. Some were twists on classics and some were her own personal creations. All were delicious.
By nine o’clock Anne had done all she could to help so she filled her travel coffee mug and said good-bye to Eric, hoping that maybe he and Callie would be too tired by the end of the day to go out dancing that evening, but even she knew there was not a strong chance of that.
* * *
Two times now Mike had experienced the pleasure of treats from Callie’s Confections, but he’d yet to step foot in her shop. He’d seen it, of course, but he kept a pretty low profile in town save for the bar next door, the burger place, and the gas station. If he went out for a big night it was usually in the city. He wasn’t really a “local bakery” type of guy, so he was a little surprised at his desire to stop into the shop.
No, he wasn’t that surprised. All he’d done was think of Anne since she’d left his place earlier that week. He didn’t want to call her since she hadn’t technically given him her phone number. He was kind of hoping he might run into her at Callie’s. A bell jingled when he opened the door, and Callie stood behind the counter writing on a pad.
“Good morning,” she said in a cheery voice without lifting her eyes.
Before he had a chance to speak the door from the back swung open and a young, built guy came through it, bringing with him the scent of fresh-baked sugar cookies and a whiff of what almost smelled like Anne’s flowery aroma. Mike hesitated for a moment; the scent was strong enough that he wondered if she was here. Was she back there with that guy? The thought bothered him for some reason—a lot, but before he head time to ponder his reaction the guy sporting the pink CALLIE’S CONFECTIONS tee spotted him and his eyes grew wide.
“Well hello, how can I be of service?”
Yeah, Mike didn’t need to worry about this guy coming on to Anne. Now … coming on to him, that was a different situation. He glanced at Callie, who had finally looked up from her paper. Her smile was large and smug.
“I knew it. No one eats my goods twice and doesn’t become addicted.”
Mike watched as the guy behind the counter raised an eyebrow at her.
“And by goods, I mean the ones I’m selling,” she said with a smile. She ran her hands along the top of the glass display case. “The ones in here.”
Mike smiled at her joke but had the grace not to comment. Callie was really cute, she just wasn’t the woman he’d thought about continually.
“There are only two cinnamon rolls left, Uncle Mike. Shall I put them in a box for you?”
He chuckled and scratched the back of his head, surprised at her use of the pet name. Did that mean Anne had mentioned him? He liked the thought that she must have.
“Okay sure, that’ll be great,” he finally said after gazing at all the offerings. “They were really good. Obviously, that’s why I came.”
“Of course it is.” She grabbed a small box behind her and filled it with the two cinnamon rolls. He noticed she was smiling at something behind him. “Anything else? Coffee? Eric just brewed a fresh pot.”
Mike glanced over his shoulder at Eric, who quickly feigned tidying up the stir sticks. Mike was pretty damn sure the guy had been looking at his ass. “Sure, that sounds good.”
“Great.” She tapped his purchase into the register. “That will be eight dollars and sixty-four cents.”
He was a little shocked by the price of two cinnamon rolls and coffee, but he pulled a ten out of his wallet. He quickly considered ways to casually fish for some information about Anne but felt ridiculous; he was a grown-ass man, for God’s sake.
“I know, my goods aren’t cheap, but they’re worth it. As you well know.” She gave him a wink before she continued. “However, Mike … I will give you some very important intel for free.”
Could he be so lucky … or so obvious? She shoved the register drawer closed and handed his change over the counter. She loaded up a little handled bag, throwing in some napkins and a plastic fork as she spoke.
“Poor Eric broke up with his boyfriend this morning,” she said with an over-the-top pouty frown.
Mike straightened up a little as he glanced once more at Eric and cleared his throat. “Sorry to hear that, man.”
Eric nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be okay eventually.”
“As you may have learned,” Callie continued, “the only way to get over one guy is to get drunk and get under another one, you know?”
Is she serious? “Uh, do I know that? I’m not so sure,” Mike said, befuddled.
“Don’t worry, Alpha Mike, I have a point. So me, Eric…” She nodded toward her friend and then leaned over the counter and spoke slowly as she handed Mike his bag. “… and my very best party-planning girlfriend … are going to Smokey’s tonight. Okay?”
Ha. He liked Callie. Best wing woman ever. He smiled slowly and nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. Eric has your coffee.” She nodded behind him.
Mike turned and Eric was standing there waiting, coffee prepared and in hand. “I assumed you took it lightly sweetened and creamed, was I right?” Eric said with a wink.
“Yeah. Great, thanks.” Mike swallowed, ready to get the hell out of there.
“Oh and if you want your mind blown … stick those buns in the microwave for twenty seconds.” Eric nodded at the bag.
“Uh … all right. I’ll try that.” He carefully took the to-go cup from Eric’s hands and left the building shaking his head at having just had one of the most useful, yet uncomfortable conversations of his life.
Seven
Standing in her teeny walk-in closet, Anne let her eyes wander over all of the unflattering options with a heavy sigh. She had no idea what to wear to a bar on a Friday night, but it really didn’t matter because no matter what she chose she would feel out of place.
Weekends without Claire were always a combination of joy and misery for Anne. On one hand, there were few mothers who didn’t dream of some time to themselves, a reprieve from the never-ending questions, snack preparation, and bedtime routine. On the other hand, she hated not knowing what was going on when Claire was with Scott.
It wasn’t that she worried for Claire’s safety or that her daughter wouldn’t feel loved. Scott may have grown out of love with his wife,
but he still adored their child and for that Anne was grateful. No, it was the little things that she worried over, like how did Scott respond when Claire mentioned her mother. He may not say anything negative, but many thoughts weren’t expressed through words. Or did Scott realize how vulgar prime-time television could be these days? Or that a mere five minutes of Claire exploring his iPhone could potentially rob her of her innocence forever?
But she had to let it go. Scott had rights, and they were currently outlined by a biweekly visit starting from Friday after school and lasting to Monday morning. The thing that really chafed was that Claire always spent the Sunday night with Scott’s parents, which conveniently meant that he never had to get Claire and himself ready on a school or work morning. In Anne’s eyes, you weren’t a card-carrying parent until you juggled breakfast, school papers, and the drop-off line while simultaneously trying to put on mascara. But she liked Scott’s mother, so she tried to get over that, too.
Most Claire-less weekends involved work, reading, and too much time on the Internet, but Callie had other plans for them this Friday evening. Anne stepped out of a black skirt and tossed it onto the floor alongside the other three outfits she’d just tried on and rejected.
“This one would be amazing.” Callie pulled out a black scoop-neck sleeveless dress. It was tight from waist to boobs. The belted skirt was overlaid with black lace and pleated out to just above Anne’s knee. She loved that dress, but …
“Nope, can’t wear it. See this yellow shirtdress?” Anne asked as she pointed to the dress in question in her closet. “From behind it on back are all outfits that are too small. Yellow dress forward are fat clothes.” She held her hands out game-show-host-style.
“Fat clothes, my ass.” Callie dropped her arms in frustration, black lace dress still in hand. “Anne, you have a totally hot body. What is wrong with you? Guys check you out all the time.”
Anne wrinkled her nose. “No, I’m chubby.” She pointed to her stomach in order to prove her point.
“Good heavens, woman, you’re crazy. I have that, too.”
Callie’s comment was laughable. Their stomachs had nothing in common except a belly button, and Callie’s was much more visible and sexy. She had the sleek and strong body of a dancer. Callie had spent all four of her college years on her university’s elite dance team squad, and her figure was still reaping the benefits. It was unfair that she now made a living taste-testing pastries and still managed to look the way she did.
“Anne, try the damn dress on. I invited you out, so I get to pick your clothes.” Callie yanked the dress from its hanger and tossed it to Anne.
“I’ve never heard that rule before.” Anne pulled the dress over her head, shimmied it down past her boobs, and stood in front of the full-length mirror.
“Holy shit … this dress is so happening tonight.” Callie bent down into the closet and shuffled her way through the mess that was Anne’s shoe stash. A muffled screech came from the darkness before Callie pulled back holding one old cowboy boot. “And these are going with it.”
“What? I’m not twenty anymore, Cal, I’ll look like a hooker at a rodeo in that outfit.”
“I know, right? It’ll be perfect.”
“What does it even matter? I thought this night was about Eric. We should be trying dresses on him.” Anne sat on her bed and slipped a worn cowboy boot over her sock. “Where is he anyway?”
“He just texted that he’s on the way,” Callie said.
“I wish Lindsey was back so I had someone to hang out with while you two get your party on.” Lindsey was always fun, but lower-key than Callie.
“Well, then I’m glad she’s not back yet, because you need to have a good time tonight. As much as I love Lindsey, you two enable each other to be fuddy-duddies at the club.”
“Not sure if Smokey’s qualifies as a club.”
“It’s as good as we’re gonna get in Preston, and sometimes I have to dance.”
Anne stood up and took a final glance in the mirror. She had to admit, she did feel kind of hot in this outfit, even if it was squeezing her top half a little too much, so much so that she didn’t even need a bra. She needed a confidence boost after the week she’d had. It was lucky that Mike had gifted her with the referral of the Monsers’ party because she’d been grateful for the distraction.
One source of pride for the week was that she’d managed to book the venue she’d been pining over. It was a beautiful farm just outside of Preston owned by a lovely older couple. The property was one Anne had admired for years. The farmhouse was large and idyllic with a long porch and large pillars. The massive old barn out back was the most perfect setting for the party, rustic yet spacious, and it hadn’t held livestock or hay bales for quite some time so prepping it wouldn’t be too much work.
When she’d stopped by on Wednesday she saw that the elderly woman still maintained a beautiful and extensive flower garden behind the house. Anne’s mind had gone wild with all her ideas of guests mingling in the garden, and then the main party in the barn. Luckily she’d come equipped with cupcakes and ready to beg. It had worked, and she’d talked them into letting her rent the property for the Monsers’ party.
After that she’d hired an amazing band for the “mocktail” hour, and a popular DJ for the dancing, and had lined up interviews with several caterers. Things were moving along nicely for her first major project, and it kept her from thinking about how ridiculous she felt for being pulled into Uncle Mike’s sexy trap not once but twice in a matter of seventy-two hours. Okay, almost kept her from thinking about it.
The moment she’d caught a glimpse of the young, big-busted woman in Mike’s shop, she’d felt like a complete idiot. Anne had been silly to even consider a fling with Mike Everett. It was probably a blessing in disguise that the woman had entered and saved her from making a complete fool of herself. She could never compete with the perky blonde.
With a sigh, Anne turned back to the mirror and pushed her own breasts up and together, considering her reflection. These things had nursed a child, for heaven’s sake, but they weren’t too bad. She was still a pretty firm C cup, and nothing was facing south, thank goodness. With another sigh she turned and walked into the bathroom where Callie was touching up her own makeup.
“Maybe there will be a hot guy there. One look at you in the slutty-cowgirl getup, and you could get lucky tonight.” Callie teased.
“I’m not looking for a hot guy. I’m a lost cause when it comes to men.”
“You never know. I have a good feeling about Smokey’s tonight,” Callie said.
“Psssh. The last time you had a good feeling every hottie that approached our table ended up hitting on Eric.”
“I know, and he was such a cocky little brat about it,” Callie said as she picked at her curls once more. She then turned to Anne and gave her a head-to-toe perusal. “You look so hot, Anne. Let’s do this.”
* * *
Sunday through Thursday, Smokey’s would fall into the “local dive bar” category. But every other Friday and Saturday they hired a DJ from the city, which drew in enough bodies that it could be considered a club—according to Callie. Not normally Anne’s scene—okay, never Anne’s scene, as she’d never really developed a taste for sweating bodies and loud thumping music. But it was fun to dance, and she was having a really good time. Now that she knew who Mike was, and that he lived and worked next door, she just hoped that he didn’t walk over and have a beer. Tonight was about forgetting the man existed.
About six dances and three drinks in, Anne was hot and thirsty for something not alcoholic so she headed for the main bar and squeezed her way in to ask for a glass of water. Several middle-aged women sat flirting with the beefy bartender who looked like he’d just left his motorcycle gang. He was slightly scary with tattoos and a goatee, but when he saw her and gave a wide smile, his features softened almost to the point of handsomeness. He handed her a glass of water, which she gulped, when one of the middle-aged women spo
ke to her.
“Aren’t you Anne from the crafty website?”
She swallowed her water and wiped some sweat from her forehead. “Yes, I am.” It was a little embarrassing to be asked that in a place like this. This wasn’t her kind of hangout, and it definitely didn’t match the tone of her blog, which was pretty wholesome and family-centered. As her small newspaper column gained popularity locally, this happened more often.
“Are you here with a date?”
“Oh no, just some friends out having a good time,” she answered with a smile.
“That’s what Friday night is for, right?” The woman closest to her motioned to the bartender. “Have a shot with us before you go. We’re fans.”
“Oh … no, I shouldn’t.”
“Aiden, give her a shot,” one woman said. Her vibrant red hair was in a sassy updo and her face had been pretty once upon a time, but she’d obviously lived a hard life. Anne put her hand up in protest.
“Just following orders.” The bartender slid a shot glass in front of Anne with a wink. She didn’t want to be rude, so she lifted it and they all clanked glasses before she threw it back. The liquid burned down her throat and she held back a cough. “Oh wow. That was … that was really good.”
The redheaded woman laughed; not one of them seemed to struggle with the fiery drink. Anne thanked them and insisted she find her friends, but first she entered the dimly lit women’s restroom and yanked a crunchy paper towel from the dispenser. Resting it between her dress and the counter, she leaned toward the mirror. She took another paper towel and patted at the light sheen of sweat on her brow as she reflected back on the past hour. Besides the recent shot, two men already had bought her a drink, which meant she had a healthy buzz and was feeling confident. That was about her limit; she never liked to get out of control.
Though not a complete stranger to male attention, even Anne was shocked by two free drinks from men. That was cause for a celebration … and maybe another pair of cowgirl boots. The guys had even been cute. Anne washed her hands and tousled her hair, which she’d left loose and wavy. She had to admit she looked good tonight. Maybe if she’d worn her hair down around Mike she wouldn’t have looked so much like a “customer.” With a promise to herself not to think of Uncle Mike again, Anne left the restroom.
Start Me Up Page 6
