by Robyn Neeley
He wanted to interject that a magical spell had helped his buddy, but he wasn’t going to get his ass kicked by Jason, Emma—or Abby, for that matter—for exposing Batter Up.
At first, he wasn’t sure he could do it. He didn’t really believe in soul mate crap. Not after his first wife had ripped out his heart and crushed it easily with her stilettos that he found lying next to the D-list actor’s loafers on his stairway seconds before catching them in bed.
Still, it could be a great excuse to explore the restaurants in the area and meet some new women.
Tina indicated that all the dates would include a fun task to kick them up a notch. Before he completely knew what he was agreeing to, he’d said yes. She promised to contact him in the morning with more details.
He looked down at the large paper cup in his hand. He’d stopped by the Star Lite to get a strawberry malt shake, something he’d done every day this week. For some reason, he couldn’t get enough of the yummy drink. It was a good thing he got a run in each day because he was pretty sure the sinful concoction was loaded with calories. With one last sip, he finished it off and tossed it into the garbage container before heading into the Elks Lodge.
“Hey, gorgeous! We’ve been waiting for you.” Betty rushed over and latched her bony arms around his middle.
“Honestly, Betty, let the man sign in before you attack him.” Bridget waved from her seat at the registration table. “Hey, Brandon.”
“Hey, Bridget.” He loved the spunky librarian ever since he and Jason had crashed her Las Vegas wedding this summer. If he and his buddy hadn’t run into Bridget and her bridesmaids, they both would have never wound up in Buttermilk Falls. Funny how life works.
He was happy for Jason, too, who had found a wonderful woman in Emma. His pal had suffered an unimaginable loss a few years ago when his fiancée was gunned down by thugs. It was nice to see him with a woman who made him happy again.
“Ladies, you both are looking beautiful tonight.” He sauntered up to the registration desk where Bridget handed him a clipboard with a piece of paper on it.
“We’re excited to have you here, Brandon.” She lowered her voice. “All the women are talking about it. Okay, first we need you to write down the dinner you plan to make for your date.”
“Wait . . . dinner? I thought I was the spice?” he joked and that got not one, but two blushes. “Don’t worry. I have the perfect meal planned out. My grill is ready.” He winked, writing down what he planned on making for dinner and handing the clipboard back to Bridget. “And the wine is chilling in my fridge.”
“Excellent!” Bridget took the sheet and pointed to the main hall. “You’ll go in there and sample desserts. In about a half hour, we’ll start the bids. Have fun.”
“Thank you, ladies, for organizing this event.” He rolled up his sleeves and rubbed his hands together. “Time to get me some sugar.”
* * *
Abby grinned at the sight along the wall. Dozens of men had flocked to the dessert tables to sample the items up for auction. Good thing the event volunteers took pictures of all the desserts to display on the screen behind the stage. There wasn’t going to be a crumb left.
According to Bridget, money raised this year would go toward the elementary school’s career exploration program. Abby loved that idea. It was a great project, and she had even offered baking lessons for budding pastry chefs.
“Hey, Abby.”
She spun around, recognizing the voice greeting her immediately. “Hi, Brandon. What are you doing here?”
“Same thing all these men are doing.” He put out his palm, offering her a candy corn. “Want one?”
“I’m good, thanks.” She looked down at her boots and then glanced up to see him pop the rest of the candy in his mouth. “So, you seemed to hit it off with Christine the other night.” Oh, Abby, why would you go there?
“Yeah. We hung out for a bit.” He glanced around. “Is she participating tonight?”
Abby shook her head. “I think she’s gone back to Chicago.”
“Bummer.”
She folded her arms, trying to act like the next question was nothing more than polite conversation. “Do you know which dessert you’re going to bid on?”
His lips turned up into a wicked smile. “I think I know who I want.”
She blinked, not sure if she wanted to hear this news. Did he already have his eye on someone? “You do, who?”
He chuckled. “I mean . . . what I want. I’ve been having the weirdest craving lately for st—”
“Okay, you two. I need you to take your places.” Betty had appeared from behind Abby and stepped in between them. “Brandon, we need you to take your seat.” She handed him a paddle shaped in a pink cupcake and winked. “It’s for waving, but you can keep it, sugar.”
“Where should I go?” Abby asked, amused at Betty’s blatant flirting with Brandon.
“In the back. There’s a refreshment table.”
Brandon gave Abby a farewell nod. “Have fun on your date tonight, Abby.”
“You, too.” Abby turned and walked toward the back of the room. Wow, the spell worked so well, he didn’t even call her “Red.” Her stomach twisted at that realization. She had gotten kind of used to him calling her by the playful nickname.
Stopping at the refreshment table, she selected a fudge brownie. Why did Brandon have to be here? A wave of panic surged through her. What if he chooses the strawberry shortcake?
There’s no way. Not with all the chocolate desserts available. No, she was all but sure he’d place a bid on a velvety mousse or the chocolate peanut butter cake she’d caught a glimpse of earlier.
Thank God she chose the caramel drizzle and not a chocolate sauce. Reassured, she bit down on her brownie and joined Bridget on the back wall.
Betty took the stage, welcoming all the bachelors and bachelorettes. After explaining the rules, she began taking bids for the first dessert: a pumpkin cheesecake.
Abby waited patiently for her turn, her gaze bouncing around to all the cute firemen scattered throughout the room. So far, only two of those guys had bid on a dessert. The odds she’d be having dinner with one of the handsome bachelors were looking good.
Twenty minutes later, it was finally her dessert’s turn. She rubbed her palms as a picture of her shortcake flashed on the screen. Emma was right. Garnishing it with strawberries and drizzling caramel sauce made it look like a five-star dessert.
“Do I hear one hundred?”
Matt Donaldson waved his paddle. Abby studied the town’s public defender in casual khakis and white polo shirt. Okay, not a fireman and a little on the lanky side, but he could be fun. He was a few years older than her, and his parents lived next to hers.
“Two hundred,” shouted a guy from the front row. Abby didn’t recognize him but was pretty sure he worked in construction.
“Three hundred . . .”
Yes! Finally, a volunteer fireman. It was Adam Reed and he was super hot. A few years older than her, he was her brother Josh’s best friend, and she’d always had a crush on him. Abby did a silent jig inside as she watched the men battle it out for her dessert.
Popping in the last large bite of her brownie, she prepared to go meet her date whom she hoped would be Adam.
“One thousand!”
One thousand. What the—
“Oh, my God, Abby.” Bridget gave her a nudge. “You could be going out with Brandon!”
Abby tried to protest, but the brownie was now lodged in her throat. Why on earth was Brandon waving his paddle? No, no. This can’t be happening. “Water,” she choked.
Bridget reached behind them and grabbed a water bottle, handing it to Abby.
“Thank you.” She took a long sip.
“Are you okay?” Bridget asked.
“I’m fine. It just went down the wrong pipe.” She coughed.
“Do I hear one thousand one hundred?” Betty asked.
Come on, come on! Abby drank her water. Adam, Matt, even the construc
tion worker would do at this point. She stood frozen, waiting for at least one paddle to wave in the air.
“Congratulations, Brandon Swift.” Betty’s voice boomed into the microphone. “Enjoy your Sugar and Spice Night with Abby Stevens!”
Chapter 5
Abby began the trek to Brandon’s cottage with two very expensive shortcakes in her hands. After nearly choking on her brownie, Brandon had come up to her all chuckles about her being the sugar for his spice.
He told her he’d made some shish kabobs to grill, and she should stop by when she was ready.
She wanted to say no, but she didn’t want to come off like a poor sport. Besides, Ernie would be stopping by later to check on them. The old cop was worse than the ladies at the Spring Curls beauty salon when it came to gossip. If she didn’t head over to Brandon’s, the whole town would know she’d stood him up . . . or worse, didn’t bring him his expensive dessert.
So, she decided to go. They’d have a quick dinner, and she’d hightail it out of there as soon as Ernie cruised by in his cop car. She could always say that she had to open up the bakery tomorrow and needed to get to bed. As far as excuses went, that was a plausible one.
After leaving the Elks Lodge, she headed straight back to the Sugar Spoon to retrieve Brandon’s thousand-dollar dessert. Since they’d be eating outside, she decided to stop by her cottage to grab a sweater and a warmer fall coat.
On the short walk to Brandon’s, she cursed herself for letting this happen. As soon as she saw him in the Elks Lodge, she should have grabbed her strawberry shortcake and ran out.
What a disaster. There had to be over fifty desserts to choose from, most of them chocolate. Why had he chosen hers?
And why had he bid so high? The bid before him was not even close to a thousand dollars. Would he be disappointed that he just bought a spongy shortcake drizzled in caramel and loaded with strawberries for one grand?
Well, that was his problem. Reaching his cottage, she headed down the cobble path that led to the water. She assumed Brandon was grilling either in his backyard or on the dock, but both were empty.
Her heart stopped as she caught sight of him. He’d put on his familiar red and white flannel and was currently lighting a grill on what appeared to be his completed deck. When on earth had he finished? He’d been working on its expansion all fall, but even earlier this week, she’d stepped over tools and planks. Now it appeared finished with a new grill and beige wicker patio furniture.
She couldn’t help but think back to the women who had huddled around her shortly after the auction, all congratulating her on her date. Had it only been on Tuesday that she’d cast the spell? Having him make dinner for her three days later was not part of the plan.
“Hey.” He turned from the grill. “I thought I heard footsteps. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Hi.” She offered a wave and joined him on the deck. “When did you finish this?”
“This afternoon.” He chuckled and held up a silver tong. “What? Did Jason tell you about my project that would never end?”
“No, I almost fell on my face tripping—” She stopped herself mid-sentence. He doesn’t remember you were ever here, Abby. “Um . . . I mean, yes . . . he might have mentioned it . . . to Emma.” She added quickly, “. . . who then told me.”
“I’ve been wanting to try out my new grill.” He pulled up a shish kabob. It was loaded with chicken, red peppers, onions, and zucchini. “Hope you like it. Jason makes these all the time.”
“I’m sure I will.” She walked up the wooden steps, impressed with not only his work but the cute wicker patio furniture. “I brought your dessert. I should probably put it in the refrigerator.”
“Go right in. Kitchen’s to your left,” he called out.
She blinked. Of course he’d give her directions. Brandon didn’t remember that she’d been in his home more than her own this fall. This new reality might take some getting used to. “Right. Can I bring anything out?”
“I’ve got a pasta salad in the fridge and some wine chilling, too.”
“Got it.” She paused, adding, “Wine glasses are where?” She smirked. In the cupboard above the stove.
“In the cupboard above the stove.”
“Be right back.” She stepped inside and headed directly for the kitchen. Within minutes, she’d returned with the pasta, wine, and glasses. “I think I have everything.”
“Here, let me help you.” Brandon reached for the wine she’d nestled under her arm as well as the glasses in her hand. “Oh, good. You grabbed the wine opener, too.” He pulled it out of one of the glasses.
While Abby set the pasta bowl down, Brandon went to work opening the wine. “You know, I’m kind of glad it was you I was bidding on.”
“You are?”
“Yeah, I’ve never been good at the whole blind date thing. Having a casual dinner with a friend is more my speed these days.”
She smiled. “You think we’re friends?”
That got a blank stare.
“I’m kidding.” She busied herself arranging the table. “So, you’re not looking to date?”
“No. Not really. Although, that’s about to change.”
It was? “What’s about to change?” Was there someone in addition to Christine? It wouldn’t surprise her with all the women who frequented the Buttermilk Tavern, hoping to turn his eye. Oh, God. What if Caitlin had returned. She banned that horrific thought. If Caitlin was back, she definitely would have made her presence known by now.
“Oh nothing.” He filled her glass and then his. “Cheers.” He clinked his rim with hers and then leaned back on the deck. “How funny that of all the desserts being auctioned, I picked the one made by a professional. I should have known.”
“How?” She pulled a wicker chair out and took a seat.
“It was delicious. Seriously, the most amazing dessert I think I’ve ever tasted.”
“Really?” She smiled shyly at his compliment and masked her embarrassment by changing the subject. “Your deck looks great,” she managed to say.
“Thanks. I don’t know why it took me so long to complete it.”
“Writer’s block,” she said and took a sip of her wine.
His eyebrow went up. “You know about that, too? Man, what else has Jason told Emma about me?”
Oops. She really shouldn’t know that he’d been unable to type a single word on his book since he’d set up permanent residence. “Emma might have mentioned you were having trouble getting into it.”
“It didn’t start out that way. Before I moved here—when I was just visiting—the words were flowing.” He sighed, set his glass down, and moved back to the grill. In seconds, he handed her a plate with two perfectly grilled kabobs. “I guess things haven’t quite worked out the way I thought they would.”
“I know the feeling.” That she did. Working full time at the Sugar Spoon had given her not only a paycheck but the opportunity to do something that she actually loved. Now if she could just get the guts to take the plunge and start the catering company.
Starving, she pulled off a piece of grilled chicken and popped it into her mouth. “What is your story about?”
He took a bite of his pasta salad. “You know, I thought I had this great idea for this kind of cozy murder mystery set in a quirky small town.”
She laughed. “Wouldn’t be Buttermilk Falls, would it?” This place screamed quirk.
He grinned, flashing his signature smile. “Could be. When I was vacationing here, this place really got to me. I had the whole first half of the book mapped out. I even got a couple awesome chapters written.”
“So what happened?” Abby bit down on her kabob. God, this meal was amazing.
“I don’t know. I guess my muse decided to go screw around.”
She began to cough on her pepper and quickly reached for her wine. Was their having sex the reason Brandon couldn’t write? It couldn’t be, could it?
“You okay?” Brandon asked, his voice
full of concern. “Do you need some water?”
“No, I’m good.” She waved her hand. “Wrong pipe. It’s been happening a lot lately.” She finished her wine. “Maybe you just need a change of scenery. You could try writing at the Star Lite or the library?”
“Maybe.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m sure my muse will show back up any day now. In the meantime, I’m kind of enjoying my gig at the Buttermilk Tavern.”
“You are?” That didn’t really surprise her, but she’d always wondered what he liked about it. Time to find out. “It has to be so much different than reporting for a national newspaper.”
“Yeah . . . but it’s a refreshing kind of different.” He reached for another kabob. “I love to write, but I’d seriously consider opening up my own bar. Although, I’m not sure there’s enough business for two in this town.”
She laughed because he was probably right. “You know, I’ve always thought a bar on the lake would be nice. Somewhere you can enjoy the view of the water in the summer, but maybe cozy up to a fire during the long, snowy winter.”
He turned his head toward the water. “That’s not a bad idea.”
“There’s an old, abandoned inn about a mile from here. It would be the perfect place. My grandmother worked there every summer when she was a teenager.” She giggled, remembering the story. “It’s where she met my grandfather when he came to town after the war.”
“How cool. I’ll have to check the place out.” He nodded to her plate. “How’s the meal?”
“Awesome.” Abby polished off the last of her kabob and went to work on the pasta salad. Never mind being hungry, the meal was the best she’d eaten all week. She hadn’t realized Brandon was such a master griller. She had to admit she was also enjoying their conversation. “So, what exactly is it about bartending that you like?”
“I don’t know. I think it’s the customers. When people come to the tavern they’re looking to have a good time. Maybe forget a crummy day, week, month, hell . . . maybe a bad year. I listen a lot. Did you know that Mike from the bank has a wicked crush on Donna from the post office?”
