by Zoe York
“Be right out,” I called as I gave my hands a good scrub and took off my dusty apron.
“Okay,” a male voice returned.
I checked the small mirror I’d secured on the walk-in, to make sure I didn’t have flour on my face, then walked out front with a smile for the waiting customer.
I stumbled a little at the sight of him.
Tall and thin, but with a nice set of biceps peeking out of his shirt, so you knew he was fit. A mop of wavy brown hair, a sweet, if somewhat panicked-looking face, and, be still my heart, glasses.
“Good morning,” I managed, my tone coming out somewhat breathless as I tried to maintain a warm but professional demeanor.
“It will be, if you can help me,” he replied hopefully, wringing his hands together as his eyes took on a doe-like quality.
Yes, I thought, I can help you with whatever you need, just look at me like that every day for the rest of my life.
“What can I do for you?” I asked, sure my cheeks were turning red.
Then he smiled, and two dimples appeared.
Seriously? I looked around the store for hidden cameras. Are my sisters playing tricks on me? This guy cannot be real. Or any more adorable.
“I know it’s last minute, but I have an emergency. I need to hire you to cater my daughter’s ninth birthday party.”
And, there it is … the punchline. Mr. Adorable Dimples is married with a family.
I looked down at his ringed finger, smothered my disappointment, and gave him an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry, we don’t do children’s parties.”
When his face fell, I wanted to snatch the words back.
“We just don’t have those types of decorations on hand,” I added, hoping to soften the rejection. “There’s a party supply store around the block; I’m sure they’ll have what you need.”
He shook his head and I tilted my head back to get a better look at him. Damn, he was really tall.
“I wish it were that simple. Kayla’s outgrown the kind of birthday party I could give her. If we were still talking about Frozen, I could turn our living room into a winter wonderland and decorate the shit out of it.” He winced and said, “Sorry,” and I assumed he was talking about swearing. Which, jeez, could he get any cuter.
“What does she want?” I asked, even though I knew I should send him on his way and get back to work. I found I didn’t want him to leave yet.
I was such a brat.
“A tea party,” he replied, making tea party sound like a bad word. “I’ve never even had a drop of tea, let alone made an entire party out of it.”
I bit back a chuckle at his obvious distress, and asked, “Can’t your wife help?”
His face looked pained, then he let out a sigh and said, “She, uh, left us, almost a year ago. We haven’t heard from her since, so … no, I’m on my own with this one.”
“I’m so sorry,” I managed, feeling like a giant heel for getting so personal. I took a step forward, intent on touching his arm to offer comfort, then stopped when I realized what I was doing.
He waved off my apology and ranted, “Kayla’s best friend had a tea party for her birthday, and all K could talk about was the little sandwiches and the pretty cups.” He looked at me with wide eyes. “I know how to make two-fisted sandwiches, but finger sandwiches…”
He ran a hand through his hair, which was longer on top and short on the sides, and I bit my lip so I wouldn’t smile at his adorable frustration.
“When does Kayla want this tea party?” I asked, even though I knew we didn’t have time in our schedule to fit in a last-minute event.
“Saturday.”
My mind started working as I thought about everything I had to do in the next two days, and what we had on hand to make a little girl’s ninth birthday tea party magical.
I walked around the counter and picked up our book, then flipped through the pages until I got to the event sheets.
“Here,” I said, walking back to him with a clipboard and pen. “Fill this out with the date, time, place, and budget, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Seriously?” he asked, his handsome face blossoming with hope.
“Seriously,” I replied with a nod, then gasped when he crushed me to him in a bear hug.
“You’re a lifesaver,” he said, but all I could focus on were his long arms around my body, and my cheek plastered against his warm chest. It was deliciously firm, he smelled amazing, and I could hear the soothing sound of his beating heart. “An angel,” he amended, then let me go.
I looked up at his smiling face, and my heart rolled over like a happy little gymnast.
Oh, boy…
He filled out the sheet and handed it to me with a sweet grin.
“I’ll talk with my sisters and be in touch,” I said as I looked down at the paper, then back up at him. “Jackson.”
“I can’t wait, Millie,” Jackson replied, then winked at me, winked at me, and walked out the door.
I stood there for a moment, frozen in place by that wink, wondering how he knew my name. Then I remembered … it was sewn into my chef coat.
Jackson
Hugging her had probably been a bad idea, but, damn, it sure felt good.
It started out innocently enough. I really had stepped into Three Sisters Catering with the intention of begging, pleading, and bartering for a party for Kayla. Then she’d stepped out from the back … the sexiest brunette in a chef’s coat I’d ever seen.
And the way her curves had fit snuggly against me, her head resting perfectly just below my chin … Well, let’s just say my body hadn’t reacted to a woman in that way since well before my wife left me.
I’d ended up stuttering and stumbling my way out of there. I think I winked for God’s sake.
What a tool.
The important thing was that she’d said yes, they’d consider catering K’s party. I’d been trying so hard to give Kayla everything she needed since Julie had walked out of our lives. I couldn’t always give her what she wanted monetarily, but she knew she was the most important thing in my life, and I really wanted to make this birthday special. It was the first one since her mother disappeared, and I needed to prove that we could do this without her, that I could do this without her.
With the help of a catering company, that is.
“Running behind, Jackson?” Principal Wiggins called as I rushed through the entry door of the high school where I worked.
“Yeah, sorry,” I called with a wave as I headed toward my classroom, pulling open the door just as the final bell rung.
“Busted,” one of the students called out as I walked to my desk with a sheepish smile.
“Tardy, Mr. H,” another student said.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said with a chuckle. “Calm down.”
Since my class was an Advanced English class, most of the students I had were there because they wanted to be, not just to fill a mandatory block on their schedule. We’d been in school for a couple months now, so I knew most of my students pretty well, and they knew what kind of teacher I was. I’d never been late before, so they had to give me shit, even though I was usually understanding when one of them were tardy.
“Car break down?”
“Alarm didn’t go off?”
“Dog ate your homework?”
I let them get it all out while I placed my things on my desk and got out my lesson plan. Once I walked to the center of the room, they knew I was ready for business, and the good-natured taunts died down.
“Hamlet,” I began, adjusting my glasses slightly as I surveyed the faces in the room. “Act three, scene one. Let’s discuss.”
It was one of those days where I was already exhausted by lunch. I was distracted, thoughts of Kayla’s birthday and the morning’s discussion of Hamlet buzzing around in my brain, so I didn’t realize that I was about to run into one of the other teachers until I was right up on her.
“Oh,” Rebecca Webber cried, as I reache
d a hand out to steady her.
“Sorry,” I said as I took a step back.
I caught the slight blush on the history teacher’s cheeks as she replied, “That’s okay.”
I nodded, then walked around her into the lounge. I headed to the table, where I sat with the other two male teachers in my school. Rob, who taught Algebra One, and Tyson, who taught Health and Physical Education.
They were already there, catching up on their weekend, when I sat down and started pulling out the items from my homemade lunch, which was identical to the one I’d made for my daughter that morning.
“‘Sup, Jackson?” Rob asked as he downed the soda that he’d sworn to his wife he’d give up.
“I was late today,” I admitted as I opened the baggie that held my peanut butter and Nutella sandwich. “You should have seen the look on Wiggins’ face. It’s not like I make a habit out of it or anything.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Ty said with a wave of his hand. “Sounds like he’s pissed off about shit at home, at least that’s the word on the streets. It’s not personal; he knows you’re one of the best around.”
“Why was Mr. Perfect late anyway?” Rob asked with a grin, so I knew he was just messing with me.
“I stopped off at that catering business on Main, the one across from Prime Beef.”
“That place is hot,” Ty said. “I always book a table if I have a lady I want to impress. I’m talking about Prime Beef, not the catering place. I’ve never been there.”
“I have, they have those delicious breakfast pastries,” Rob answered.
“Anyway, Kayla wants to have a tea party for her birthday, and since I haven’t the first idea how to make that happen, I thought I’d give them a try.”
“A tea party? What the hell do you do at one of those?” Rob asked.
“I don’t know, eat tiny sandwiches and drink tea, I guess,” I replied, then looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to our conversation before lowering my voice and adding, “The woman who works there is the hottest woman I’ve ever seen.”
That sparked their interest, so they both leaned in closer.
“What does she look like?” Ty asked.
“‘Bout five-four, five-five, with perfect curves, full lips, and the eyes of an angel.”
“Hair?” Rob asked, causing Ty and me to give him matching looks. “What, you know I’m a hair man.”
I shrugged. “It’s dark and long, but hard to really tell because it was up in a bun. Which gave me unadorned access to her perfect face … She was nice, sweet even, and when I hugged her…”
“Hugged her?” Rob asked.
“Damn, Jackson, you work fast,” Ty added with a chuckle.
“It was an impulse; I didn’t mean to attack her or anything. She said she’d see what they could do to help me with the party, and I automatically hugged her.”
“And it was?”
“Perfect,” I admitted. “She smelled sweet, felt even better, and tucked right in and hugged me back.”
“Wow,” Ty said, and I knew he and Rob were thinking the same thing I was. This was the first time I’d had even an ounce of attraction for a woman since Julie left.
“Are you going to ask her out?” Rob asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. It was complicated, what with me being a single dad who was technically still married. But, I’d left that store feeling something I hadn’t felt in a really long time: excited.
I looked my friends in the eye as I opened my tapioca pudding and said, “You know what? I think I will.”
Millie
“What’s this?” Dru asked, the tone of her voice causing me to look up from tarts I was finishing up for tonight’s event.
It took me a minute to realize what she was talking about, as she waved a piece of paper in the air.
“Oh, it’s a last-minute tea party for a little girl,” I replied, trying to sound like it was no big deal.
“No shit, last minute,” my twin exclaimed, one hand on her hip, while she used the other to shake the paper at me. “I don’t have time for this. Literally, don’t have time. Why did you say we’d take this on, Millie? You know we’re jam-packed for the next four days.”
“I know that, I do, and I don’t expect you to do a thing. I’ll take care of it.”
“You’ll take care of it.”
“Yup,” I said, then grew wary when Dru narrowed her eyes at me. My sister never missed a thing.
“Why, Millie?” she asked as she stalked toward me. “Why, after a year of cooking and baking, like the genius you are, but not crossing over into event planning, management, or budgeting, will you be taking over this event on your own?”
Shit, I need to get her off the scent…
“Because,” I began as my mind raced. Although I was the oldest by two minutes, my twin always seemed to know what I was going to do before I did, and I didn’t want her to read anything into this tea party. I was only trying to help out a father and his daughter who’d had a rough time. That was it … no hidden agenda here. “I know how busy we are, and I also know that when I’m done with the food, you and Tash will still be busy pulling off another successful event. So … when the man came in needing help with his daughter’s birthday, and I could see how desperate he was, I figured it wouldn’t kill me to step out of the kitchen and pull off this small event.”
Dru was watching me closely, so I continued my verbal vomit.
“Plus, this may gain us new clients and give us a chance to branch out in a new direction. I can handle it, Dru, promise.”
“But, we’d decided months ago that we weren’t going to do children’s parties.”
“True,” I said with a nod, wishing I’d hear the sound of a customer entering the building so I could get out of this situation. “But, it’s a tea party, which we’ve done in the past. So, although it’s technically for a child, it’s not exactly a children’s party, at least not in the sense that we’d spoken about. No piñatas, or cartoon characters … and, we have supplies in the back already, so, really, it was a no-brainer.”
“A no-brainer, huh?”
“Yup.”
“And, did this Jackson have anything to do with your sudden interest in stepping out of the kitchen?” Dru asked as she looked down at the event sheet, then back up at me.
I felt the blush rise up from my neck, and watched Dru’s lips turn up as she grinned victoriously.
Busted.
“Tell me,” she demanded, so I did.
“Oh my Gosh, Dru, you wouldn’t believe it. At first, I thought you and Tash had sent him in here to trick me or something,” I admitted, grabbing a towel to wipe my hands as I crossed to her. “Tall, crazy tall, with a runner’s body and brown hair that’s short on the sides, but kind of floppy on top. And he had dimples, and glasses … It was like he walked out of the pages of my sixteen-year-old self’s diary.”
“Wow,” Dru replied, then took in my face and asked, “So, what’s the catch?”
“Married,” I admitted with a frown. “I mean, he said his wife walked out and left him and their daughter, Kayla, a year ago, but, he was still wearing the ring.”
“Ouch, that’s terrible. For them, I mean, and for you. I’m sorry the man of your dreams walks in and he’s already taken, but, if it’s been a year, it must be really over, right? Maybe he just forgot to take it off.”
I knew Dru was trying to see the bright side of things, and wanted me to be happy, but I wasn’t sure that I should go there.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “It seems like a pretty complicated situation. I’m just going to do my best to give that little girl the best tea party she’s ever seen. She deserves it. I can’t even fathom our mom ever willingly leaving us.”
“That’s cause it wouldn’t happen,” Dru said with a sad smile. “But, you’re right, it should be about the girl. I’ll take you in the back and show you what we have on hand for a tea party. You should be set, all you’ll need to
do is make the food, set up, and clean up, and it should go off without a hitch.”
“Thanks, Dru. I know it puts us in a tight spot, but I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I didn’t believe I could pull it off.”
“I know,” my sister said with a smile as she threw an arm around my shoulder. “You’re such a softy.”
“Am not,” I argued, even though I knew I totally was.
“Yeah, right. I’ve known you for almost all of your twenty-eight years, so I consider myself an expert of the subject. This Jackson guy was lucky that it was you he ran into and not me or Tash. Maybe it was fate,” Dru suggested with a nudge of her shoulder.
“Stop.”
“What? Mom always said she’d make sure we’d find our perfect partners, even if she had to meddle from the other side. Maybe she sent Jackson your way.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I said, shoving her softly as we walked into the back room.
Dru just laughed, but her words played over and over again in my head. And, despite my rational brain telling me that getting involved with Jackson would be an unwise decision, my heart welled with something that felt a lot like hope.
Jackson
“You want a snack, K?” I asked as my daughter settled at the kitchen table to do her homework.
We had a strict do your homework first thing after school policy, so our evenings were usually the same. Kayla would walk the two blocks from her school to mine, we’d ride home together, and she’d do her homework while I made dinner. After, she usually caught up with one of her friends while I graded papers or worked on lesson plans, and before bed, we’d watch a couple episodes of whatever show we were binge-watching.
Currently, we were on The Goldbergs, which we both found hilarious.
“Sure,” Kayla replied with a half shrug as she started on her math worksheet.
I smiled at the back of her head, thinking how great it was that we were finally in a place where we were both content, and my daughter was happy.
Julie’s abandonment had hit us both hard, and Kayla had taken quite a while to recover. I’d spent many nights holding her while she cried herself to sleep. It was hard for me, a thirty-year-old man, to understand why my wife of nine years had left without looking back. It was impossible for our eight-year-old daughter to comprehend.
