by Robyn Neeley
“So, what happens now, Hermione?” Emma kidded.
“Very funny.” Abby studied the spell book. “According to this, I need to bake it for thirty minutes and then have my intended take a bite. Simple enough.” She reached underneath for a cupcake tin while Emma handed her one light blue paper baking cup.
Just then the front door chimed. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” Emma straightened her apron and winked. “Would be awful if this spell does the exact opposite and he professes his love to you.”
“Fat chance. Even if it fails, I’m pretty sure Brandon’s incapable of saying those three words.” Abby shooed her cousin out of the kitchen and went to work on the vanilla frosting. This was going to work. After tonight, she would put all her spare time into dating men who were right for her. She’d make it known that she was now accepting resumes for a permanent boyfriend.
She could start this Friday. The town’s annual Sugar & Spice Night was taking place at the Elks Lodge, where single men and women were paired for a dinner date, in which the man made the meal and the woman brought dessert.
Similar to the Summer Fling auction, it was an excellent opportunity to meet single men while supporting a local charity. She’d talk to her friend Bridget Reed and see which bachelors might be participating in this year’s event.
Thirty minutes later, Abby pulled out one perfect spongy, chocolate cupcake and set the tin on the counter to cool next to the vanilla frosting.
“So, what is your plan?” Emma asked, re-entering the kitchen.
“Plan?” Abby asked.
“When are you going to give the cupcake to Brandon?”
“Right. He’s working tonight at the Buttermilk Tavern. I’ll take it over to him and insist he try it. Then I’ll test him.”
“Test him?” Emma repeated. “How?”
“That’s the easy part. We’ve spent the last six Tuesday nights together after his shift. If he doesn’t invite me over to his place, I’ll know the spell worked.”
“You should probably put some icing on that cupcake. I made some pumpkin cream cheese frosting this morning.” She grabbed a piping bag filled with the frosting.
“Stop.” Abby snatched it from her hand.
“What?”
“Brandon likes vanilla frosting on his chocolate cupcake.”
Emma raised an eyebrow. “He does, does he? Are you really sure you want to do this?”
“What?” Abby reached over for the bowl containing the vanilla frosting.
“Nothing.”
“Stop reading into things. I want to give him a cupcake that I know he’ll eat. That’s all.”
“Right. Let me frost it.” Emma turned and spooned the vanilla frosting into a new pipe bag. “To show my support.”
“Thank you. I knew you’d see things my way.” Abby went over to the sink and washed the flour off her hands and then began cleaning up.
“You know, Abby, once he eats this, there’s no turning back. If the spell works, he won’t be attracted to you whatsoever and won’t remember the last six weeks.” Emma paused before handing the cupcake over. “Is that really what you want?”
Abby nodded. “That’s what I want. It’s the only way. If he doesn’t like me, then we won’t be having sex, and that will free my evenings up to find the right guy to have sex with.” Abby tripped over her words. “Um . . . er . . . I mean to have a relationship with.”
“Well, make sure he doesn’t share it with anyone. I can’t have my bachelors falling out of love with my bachelorettes. It would be bad for business.”
“He’s not in love.” Taking the cupcake from Emma, she placed it in a single plastic container and lifted it up. “You are the key to my happily ever after.”
“That’s a lot to ask a sweet, little cupcake.”
“This coming from a woman who predicts true love in cake batter.”
“Good point,” Emma conceded and grabbed the cupcake from Abby’s hands. “Oh, I have some white chocolate strawberry slivers to top this off. Be right back.” She rushed out of the kitchen.
Abby continued cleaning up, making sure to rinse the unused batter down the garbage disposal. This was going to work. It would be like the last six weeks never happened, and that was fine by her.
Grabbing the spell book, she shut its pages and stuffed it back in her bag. Phase one of ‘Operation Stop Sleeping with Brandon Swift’ was complete.
* * *
Brandon reached the top of the winding hill and slowed his pace, letting Jason catch up. “Someone might want to cut back on the Sugar Spoon’s muffins,” he called over his shoulder. Earlier, they had set off on a five-mile run that led them to the top of Buttermilk Ladder and a breathtaking view of the dark blue lake on what had to be one of the most beautiful fall days of the year.
“Whatever. Just letting you lead the way.” Jason jogged up to him, sweat pouring down his face.
“You keep telling yourself that.” Uncapping his water bottle, Brandon took a swig and handed it to his buddy. “So, when you headed out?”
“Tomorrow. Five a.m. flight.”
“Ouch.”
“Tell me about it.” Jason handed the bottle back to Brandon.
“How long are you in D.C.?”
“A week, but then I’m going down to Miami for a freelance assignment.” He paused and put his hands behind his back for a stretch. “That reminds me. My editor, Tina, might call you for a project they’ve got in the works.”
“What’s she need?”
“Not sure. Said she was working on a fun blog series to spotlight the bachelorettes of Buttermilk Falls.”
“And she needs me to help on a story about single babes.” Brandon chuckled. “My answer’s ‘yes.’” He walked over to the lookout area and peered down at the gorgeous trees full of vibrant autumn-colored leaves surrounding the crystal blue lake. “What a view. Does it really get any better than this?”
“It’s pretty awesome,” Jason agreed, leaning against a large, jagged rock. “Do you ever get homesick for Los Angeles?”
Brandon didn’t even have to think about his answer. “Not at all. I thought maybe I would at first miss the beach and the lifestyle, but I’m really digging this slower pace. The people here are nice.”
“And one resident in particular.”
Brandon came up beside Jason and patted his sweaty back. “You mean, your girlfriend? She’s quite nice,” he teased, suspecting his pal wasn’t talking about Emma.
“Her cousin was a bit flustered this morning when I gave her back her bracelet. What’s going on between you two?”
Brandon shrugged because that was one question he didn’t have an answer to. “We’re just hanging out.”
“Yeah, right. Horizontally maybe.”
Brandon smirked. Jason knew him all too well. They had been best friends since journalism school in Boston, and that friendship had only grown tighter with each year. While Jason had landed at the Miami Herald, Brandon had set his sights on Los Angeles. After a couple of years at smaller papers, he’d scored a sweet gig at the Los Angeles Times and had celebrated his fifth-year anniversary with the paper last January.
A year ago, his life was pretty near perfect. At least he thought so. He’d gotten married to his girlfriend, Suzanne, whom he’d met through a mutual friend. After dating for two years, they’d had a small beach-side wedding.
He’d had everything a man could want. Dream job. Dream wife. Dream life. All that changed when he came home early one night and found Suzanne in bed with their neighbor—a D-list actor on some soap opera.
Crushed, Brandon filed for divorce immediately. He officially swore off ever being in a relationship. Who needed that heartache?
That didn’t stop him from having his own fun with any beauty in a skirt once the ink dried on his divorce papers. The bachelor life suited him. Maybe Suzanne had done him a favor.
Deciding to move to Buttermilk Falls had been a total whim. He had grown tired of both the L.A. scene and t
he newspaper’s deadline-driven pace. He’d always wanted to try his hand at fiction writing and had more than enough money saved up to buy a place on the lake. If small town life wasn’t for him after a year or two, he could easily sell it or keep it as a vacation home and return to reporting full-time.
The initial plan had been to dive into writing the novel, but one night the owner of the Buttermilk Tavern, Mitch Miller, had bent his ear about needing help and offered him a bartending gig.
Brandon took Mitch up on his offer, mostly to get out of his cottage and meet the locals, but the truth was he was enjoying it. He loved talking to people and mixing drinks, something he’d learned to do bartending a few nights a week in graduate school.
He also loved the attention from the female patrons, including the hot redhead who was currently sharing his bed pretty much every night. “I really don’t know what’s going on between me and Abby. She tells me it’s over every morning, yet she still comes back . . .”
“And that doesn’t tell you anything?”
“That she’s as horny as I am?” He chuckled. “I really like her, but I’ve been upfront from the very beginning. After Suzanne, I’m not sure I want to be in a relationship ever again.”
“But you were going to propose to Caitlin?”
Jason was referring to the sexy brunette Brandon had gotten involved with over the summer and the reason he’d followed Jason to Buttermilk Falls in the first place.
“That was a mistake.” Brandon meant that statement. Caitlin Reynolds and her high school shenanigans weren’t for him. Lucky for him, after she made a fool of herself at the town’s Final Fling on Labor Day weekend, she hightailed it to Paris under the guise of taking a French culinary immersion course.
He knew better. He’d never seen Caitlin in the kitchen the entire time they were together and suspected she left town to save face. Still, it was nice not to be swept up in the tornado of drama that she easily spun.
Eventually she’d return, but hopefully she’d have a new target and leave him alone.
“So you don’t see any potential with Abby for something more serious?” Jason asked.
Brandon took a sip of his water. When did hanging out with his best friend become an episode of The View? “I don’t know.” He pulled himself off the rock. “I was thinking of asking her out on a date.”
“I think that’s a great idea.” Jason stood and stretched his legs. “You two are perfect for each other.”
“You really think so? What about the guy that she was seeing last summer? Didn’t you tell me you double-dated once?”
“Carter Manning? I don’t think it was too serious—at least not according to Emma. He left to go back home to Indianapolis shortly after they started dating.”
That was a relief. Abby never mentioned him during the times they were together. Not that they did much talking, unless he counted his shouting her name and her moaning his. He grinned at that picture now running through his head. “You really think we’d be good together?”
“She’s beautiful and funny. Although, I don’t know how smart she is to want to spend her evenings with you.”
Brandon grinned, nodding. “I do like her company.”
Jason arched his eyebrow.
“No, that’s not what I mean. Although, that’s freakin’ awesome, too. I mean, with Caitlin and pretty much every woman after Suzanne, it was just sex. Abby’s different. I catch myself thinking about her when we’re not together, wondering how her day is going.”
“So ask her out. See what happens.” Jason chuckled. “And put a shirt on when you do it. A nice one and not one of those flannels you’ve been sporting lately.”
“What’s wrong with my flannels?” Brandon pulled himself off the rock and arched his back. “Race you to the bottom. Loser has to wash the other’s car for a month.”
“And vacuum the inside. You’re on.” Jason took off.
As Brandon flew past his friend, his thoughts were flying, too. He did like Abby. Yeah, he didn’t know much about her outside the bedroom, but he’d love to get to know her.
It was time to ask the pretty redhead out on an honest to goodness—out in public for all of Buttermilk Falls to see—date.
He’d do it tonight.
Chapter 3
Abby patted her hobo bag—with the cupcake tucked safely inside—for luck and headed into the Buttermilk Tavern. If all went according to plan, Brandon would no longer be attracted to her by the time she left the bar.
After her shift at the Sugar Spoon, she’d hurried home to change into jeans, a cream-colored sweater, and her favorite black leather jacket. Brandon always told her she looked bad-ass right before he peeled it off her and tossed it on his bedroom floor. Tonight, the jacket would stay on.
She blew out a breath. Could she really go through with it? If it actually worked, not only would Brandon not be attracted to her, he wouldn’t even remember they’d been intimate over the last six weeks. Magical amnesia was part of the spell.
Abby stepped further inside the tavern and glanced around. The bar was rather empty for a Friday night. In the corner sat a familiar couple huddled together.
“Hi, Abby.” Lance, one of the town’s cutest firemen, gave her a short wave, and then put his arm back around Bree, a high school history teacher.
“Hey, you two.” Abby smiled at the pair. Emma had predicted the match a few weeks ago. By the way they were carrying on, it looked like things were going well. Good for them.
She slid onto an empty stool at the end of the bar, pulling her wavy hair to the side.
“Hey, Red,” Brandon called out from the other end, shaking a mixer with one hand.
“Hi.” She smiled. He always called her Red. She noticed he was looking particularly handsome tonight in jeans and a button-down black shirt. Had he shaved? She wasn’t quite sure what his L.A. attire had consisted of, but this fall she’d seen plenty plaid flannels on him. This new look was nice.
What would it be like to run her lips across a clean-shaven Brandon? “Stop, it,” she scolded herself.
Brandon came over, placing an empty martini glass in front of her. With a quick flick of his wrist, he poured a reddish-pink liquid into it. “Stop what?”
“Nothing.” She flashed him a smile, pointing to the glass. “What’s this?”
“I’m calling it Abby’s Potion.” He leaned in on his elbows.
“Original.” She laughed sarcastically and took a sip.
“I came up with it this afternoon. I think you’ll like the magic ingredient.”
She certainly did. The sweet liquid enticed her taste buds to keep drinking. “Strawberries.”
“Strawberries, vodka, and a few other fun ingredients. I can’t give away all my secrets.”
“Well, it’s delicious.” Abby took another sip. Though half the town had an allegiance to Mel’s blueberries and anything grilled, fried, or baked with the fruit, Abby had never met a strawberry she didn’t like. She’d even turned Brandon on to strawberry malt shakes at the Star Lite diner where they’d sometimes have lunch with Emma and Jason. “This is very good.”
“So about tonight. Mitch is going to close up for me. Since I get off in an hour, I was thinking maybe we could—”
“I brought something for you,” she interrupted and opened her bag. Pulling out the cupcake container, she set it on the counter. “I baked it just for you.”
“You made me a cupcake?”
“Yeah. I felt like experimenting, too. Um . . . I mean, I played with a new recipe this morning. I thought you’d like it.” She managed an indifferent shrug for full effect. “It’s no big deal.”
“Are you working on the menu for your catering business?”
That question took her by surprise. She’d mentioned the idea a time or two during their post-sex snuggles that never lasted very long before he rolled over and fell asleep. She didn’t think he paid attention to anything she had to say.
She pushed the cupcake toward him. “
I don’t think this particular one will be on the menu.” No. This one was just for Brandon. “It’s chocolate with my homemade vanilla frosting that you love.”
He grabbed the plastic container and popped open the lid. “I do love your chocolate cupcakes. Want some?” He offered her the first bite.
“No.” Her hand flew up. “It’s all yours.” Abby stopped breathing as he pulled back the light blue foil and bit down.
“Wow.” His eyes rolled back before taking another bigger bite. “This is amazing.”
And just like that he was done.
“Glad you liked it.”
“That recipe is definitely a keeper.” He crinkled the foil and made a three-point shot for the waste paper basket. “I’d pay a thousand dollars for another.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, not taking her eyes off him.
“Well, thanks for letting me be your official tester.”
“Hey, bartender. Can I get a refill?” A guy Abby didn’t recognize waved Brandon over.
“Sure thing.” Brandon turned and headed to his customer, calling out behind him. “Drink’s on me, Abby. Thanks for the cupcake.”
“Thanks for the drink.” Abby sipped her delicious cocktail and watched as he chatted with a couple at the end of the bar. Had the spell worked? The book hadn’t actually said how long it would be before it took effect. She needed to stay and find out.
Enjoying Brandon’s concoction, she turned her attention to the flat screen on the wall.
“Hey, Abby.”
Abby twisted in her chair, recognizing the voice immediately. “Christine! Oh, my God.” Hopping off the stool, she hugged her old high school friend who had moved to Chicago to work for a financial firm last spring. “When did you get back in town?”
“On Friday. I’m only here for a couple of days to visit my folks.” Christine pulled out the stool next to Abby, her gaze sliding down the bar. “Who is that tall drink of water?”
Abby glanced in her direction. “Brandon?” She squared her shoulders. Of course her friend would find him attractive. All women did. “I mean . . . his name’s Brandon Swift. He moved to Buttermilk Falls this fall from Los Angeles.”
