by Robyn Neeley
She’d heard enough. No one called her ridiculous. No one. “First of all, for a reporter, you are lousy at confirming your facts. Second, he’s not my ‘client.’ He’s my dear friend who deserved to find the love of his life. Third, I had nothing to do with their decision to elope in Vegas and did not ‘predict’ it with food coloring.” It’s the batter, you idiot.
“But you told him who would be his bride?”
“So what if I gave him a little nudge in Bridget’s direction? How does that make me a sorceress?”
Jason threw his head back and laughed. “Emma, you’ve got this entire town under your spell.”
“Clearly not the entire town, or you’d go away,” she spat. Pushing off the swing, she stood with her back toward him, facing the water. This conversation was over. Her gaze jumped over the small waves, landing on a familiar object on the other side of the lake. “What the—”
Jason jumped up and stood beside her. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing . . . I’ve got to go.” Suddenly, her anger for this man didn’t seem so important. “Thanks for the coffee.” She hurried down the dock.
“Wait,” he called out. “Emma, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She stopped and whipped around, taking quick strides to return to Jason. “There’s really no story here. We’re simple country folks who lead quiet, non-newsworthy lives. Do us all a favor and just go back to Miami.”
She stormed back to her cottage and away from the breaking news that was currently taking place across the lake.
8
EMMA SIFTED FLOUR, squeezing the lever with all she had. Her thoughts ricocheted off the mixing bowl as she dissected the events of last week.
It had started with the disastrous evening at the Elks Lodge last Wednesday night that had left her five thousand dollars in the hole and stuck spending the summer with a man she couldn’t stand. She’d be dropping off the check later today to the animal shelter. Abby promised to go with her to hold her hand as she wrote the five and three zeros.
Saturday morning’s impromptu coffee date had been a total disaster. After storming off the dock, she hibernated in her cottage for the rest of the weekend.
Ultimately, it wasn’t her conversation with the nosy reporter that had set her off. True, she didn’t like being accused of being a fraud, but she could handle him.
No, it was what she had discovered across the lake that set her in a tailspin. She’d recognize that black SUV anywhere. Michael was back.
Just exactly why and for how long, she didn’t know. She’d hoped her mother could shed some light and had rushed into the house to call her, leaving Jason alone on the dock. Her mom generally knew all the town gossip way before Emma ever did. Surprisingly, Michael’s return was news even to her.
Bridget had stopped by the bakery earlier that morning to pick up dessert for a lunch potluck and confirmed to Emma that Michael was indeed back and that he had spent Sunday night watching baseball at the Buttermilk Tavern with Tom and the guys.
Emma set her sifter down, giving her hand a rest. It hurt that her ex hadn’t bothered to stop by and see her. Sure, they were no longer a couple, and it had been months since they talked on the phone or traded an e-mail. Still, the decent thing to do would have been to stop over and say hello. It was only a matter of time before they ran into each other. They could, at the very least, be cordial. Here it was Tuesday, and no sign of him. She picked up the sifter and attacked the flour inside it again.
The only good thing was that Batter Up night had gone on last night without a visit from Jason Levine. He either hadn’t found out about it or maybe he’d taken her advice and dropped the story.
“Hey, ease up on the handle, will ya? What did that flour ever do to you?” Abby had joined her in the kitchen.
Emma sighed. “Just trying to get this batch in the oven.”
“Well, that might have to wait. You have a visitor out front.”
Emma flipped around. “Who?” She reached behind her and started to untie her apron. “Michael?”
“Your fling.”
“Oh,” she said flatly, retying the strings. “What does he want?”
“To see you, silly.” Abby walked up behind her, swatting Emma’s hands away from her apron’s ties. “You’re not wearing this.”
Emma sighed and took off the apron. “Why won’t he go away?”
“Um . . . because you bought him.”
“Don’t remind me.” Emma started to stir her mixture, flipping her recipe book with her free hand. She was trying a new vanilla bean cupcake concoction with exotic vanilla flavoring.
“You need to go talk to him!”
“Fine.” Emma reluctantly set her wooden spoon down and rinsed her hands.
“You know, dear cousin. There could be worse ways to spend your summer than hanging out with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sexy.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m just sayin’.”
Emma smoothed her hair. “I’ll sell him to you for five thousand.” She peeked out the kitchen doors. “I wonder what he wants.”
Abby laughed. “Oh, I know what he wants.” She swatted Emma on the butt.
“Really, Abs?” Emma rolled her eyes and pushed on the swinging doors. She took a deep breath. There at the counter sat her summer fling, dressed casual in a royal V neck T-shirt and jeans. He was hunched over, reading the local newspaper she’d left on the counter for patrons. No laptop in sight.
“Hi.” She walked up, inhaling the delicious spicy scent that surrounded him. God, he smelled amazing.
“Good morning.” He looked up and smiled, showing his sexy dimples.
“Can’t you put those away?”
“Put what away?”
“Nothing.” Emma, get a grip. She reached for a full coffee pot behind her and refreshed his cup. Those dimples probably sweet-talked Caitlin this morning. Well, they weren’t going to work on her. “You’re still in town?” she asked with a hint of boredom. She dropped both a small cow cream pitcher and sugar dispenser in front of him.
“Looks that way. Happy?” He poured some cream and stirred his coffee.
“Couldn’t care less.”
Just then, Abby barreled out of the kitchen. “Hi, Emma’s fling.” She gave Jason a mischievous grin.
“Abby.” Jason smiled. “Just the woman I wanted to speak with.”
Emma raised an eyebrow and blocked Abby’s way. “Do not fraternize with the enemy,” she warned.
Her cousin ignored her threat and pushed past her. She propped up her elbows on the counter and rested her chin on her knuckles. “You know, had I known you were going to be one of the bachelors, I would have given Emma a run for her money.”
He winked. “Maybe next year.”
The thought of this man staying in Buttermilk Falls for a whole year sent a shiver down Emma’s spine. She straightened her back.
Jason continued. “Okay, so tell me about being a summer fling. What do I need to do?”
“You’ve come to the right place.” Abby chuckled, ignoring the fact Emma was five feet away and could hear every word of their conversation. “First, you need to ask her out.” She tossed Emma a sideways glance. “When you do, she will say yes.”
Emma shook her head and pretended to busy herself with the register.
Jason played along. “You’re right. There definitely should be a first date. What do you suggest? Dinner? Dancing?”
“Hmm . . .” Abby wiggled her nose. “Emma’s a really bad dancer.”
“Abby!” Emma shot her a death look.
“Well, you are. Everyone knows it.” She turned back to Jason. “She’s got two left feet.”
“So something low key, huh?” He chuckled. “I doubt the residents here get too wild on a Tuesday night.”
“You know, maybe this town isn’t as flashy as Miami, but we do know how to have fun,” Emma said, making sure he caught the sarcasm she fastballed over to him.
“I hear Monday nights are quite popular.” Jason h
ad caught her sarcasm and shot it back straight to her gut.
Her eyes narrowed. So, there it was. He knew about Batter Up night. It really didn’t surprise her. No one in this town could keep their trap shut. Caitlin probably told him. The question was why hadn’t he tried to stop by last night? If he knew about it, you’d think he would have wanted to see it with his own eyes.
Abby snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. My fling and I are going to Movies Under the Stars tonight. They’re playing Breakfast at Tiffany’s. You and Emma can join us.”
“Movies Under the Stars?”
“Yeah, every Tuesday night, a movie is shown in the park. It’s projected off of the old Merchant building. It’s really fun.” She leaned in, whispering to Jason, “And very romantic.”
Emma froze. “I don’t think Jason would be interested in seeing a movie.”
Jason shot up. “I love movies. I think that sounds perfect. What time does it start?”
“Usually around eight. I’m bringing a picnic dinner. Jason, maybe you could bring the wine?” Abby asked.
“I can do that.” Jason pulled out his wallet and handed Abby money for his coffee.
“Oh, Emma prefers a sweet wine, like a Riesling. She hates the dry stuff.”
“Abby!” Emma crossed her arms, thoroughly disgusted that her cousin and the enemy were deciding how she would spend the evening without asking her. This so wasn’t happening.
Abby turned around and faced Emma. “What?”
“Do either of you care if I even want to go?”
Jason seemed to pick up on the irritation in her voice. “I’m sorry. Emma’s right.” He jammed his hands into his jean pockets. “Emma, would you do me the honor of spending your Tuesday night with me underneath the stars, sipping what I’m sure will be some of the sweetest Buttermilk Falls vino, while watching a romantic classic? I promise to stay on my edge of the blanket.”
She rolled her eyes at his silly invitation and glared at her cousin. She’d never hear the end of it if she didn’t accept. “Fine. I’ll go.”
Abby clapped her hands. “That a girl.”
Jason smiled. He was clearly amused by her cousin’s display of enthusiasm. “Great. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty?”
Emma shrugged her answer.
“It’s a date.” He beamed.
“It’s not a date.”
“It’s a fling,” Abby interjected, stifling a giggle.
Emma watched as Jason strolled out of the bakery and crossed the street. Was she really going on a date tonight, and shouldn’t it be with a guy she liked and not someone with obvious ulterior motives? She turned to Abby. “What was that all about?”
“Emma, seriously,” Abby scoffed. “He’s yours. Bought and soon to be paid for. Might as well enjoy some of the benefits.” She squeezed Emma’s shoulders. “Besides, you might actually have fun if you would just give him a chance.”
“You do realize he’s writing a story on Batter Up?”
“So what?”
“He’ll ruin us if people believe we’re witches.”
“Emma, you’re being dramatic, and we are witches.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Well, maybe we don’t ride around on broomsticks, but this spell is part of our DNA. Embrace it, dear cousin.”
“I’m just worried that he knows more than he’s letting on.” Emma shook her head. “I don’t think wanting to protect the bakery is overreacting.”
“Okay, so people have told him about the spell. So what? It’s not like he’ll ever see it with his own eyes. He’ll never have proof. It’s merely hearsay.” Abby grabbed Jason’s empty coffee cup. “Besides, I think he’s moved on to something much more interesting to him.”
Emma raised her eyebrow. “What?”
She winked. “You.”
Emma ignored Abby’s last comment and walked to the front of the bakery. Peering out the glass, she watched her fling as he crouched down and petted a golden retriever. With one final pat, he stood and headed into the Spring Curls beauty shop.
“Just great,” she muttered. He was headed straight into the epicenter for town gossip. No one in the beauty shop could keep their mouths shut. She doubted he was in there solely to get a trim.
She’d bet her grandmother’s sugar spoon that at this very minute, exposing Batter Up was the only thing on his mind.
* * *
JASON STEPPED into the beauty salon and hesitated. Hairspray and perfume thickened the air. Women were seated all around him in swivel salon chairs, talking a mile a minute. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
When he’d made the appointment last week, he’d had one thing on his mind. To expose the pretty baker as the woman who had pulled the wool over an entire town. What better way to learn about Emma Stevens than in a hair salon. Women loved to gossip about other women—at least, that’s what he’d always been told by his mother.
But now things were different. That pretty—okay, downright gorgeous—baker was now his date for the summer.
He hadn’t planned on entering the auction. No way. He’d only gone there in hopes of interviewing some of the bachelors—find out if any of them had plans to participate in Batter Up night. Before he knew it, the old waitress from the Star Lite had grabbed him by the wrists with her bony hands and pushed him onto the stage. For a woman who had to be in her late-sixties, she was freakishly strong.
That Emma had immediately bid on him was completely unexpected—shocking even. He couldn’t deny, watching her fight to outbid Caitlin had been a complete turn on. He had wanted Emma to win.
She said she only did it for charity. Perhaps. Maybe the rivalry with Caitlin spurred her on. Whatever the reason, he’d be fooling himself if he didn’t admit he was looking forward to tonight. An evening picnic sounded like the perfect opportunity to spend time with Emma.
Although, there was still the little issue of his trying to uncover the truth. He raked his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t just abandon the story. His editor would kill him. When he told her he’d like to extend his stay in Buttermilk Falls, she wasn’t pleased. With a little sweet-talking and a reminder that he had a lot of vacation time saved up, he got his return extended to after Labor Day. She also agreed that once he got back, she’d reassign him to his former beat.
He didn’t know how he’d felt about going back into the field. For the last three years, his beat involved covering robberies, assaults, human trafficking, and murders. Three years ago, he had asked for these assignments. No, begged for them. It was his way of coping with his own loss and burying his grief. Out of guilt, he made it his duty to help expose every criminal in Miami-Dade County. It had been his mission. Right now, he wasn’t in a hurry to get back to that life.
“Hi, handsome.” A tall, bleach blonde walked over and held out her hand. “I’m Peggy.”
“Nice to meet you, Peggy.” He returned the handshake. “I’m Jason.”
“Oh, we know who you are,” she said loudly, motioning him to an empty chair. “Don’t we girls?” She wrapped a black smock around him, buttoning it in the back, tighter than he would have preferred. “You’re Emma’s summer fling.”
He laughed and reached for his neck, tugging the smock to loosen it. “Guilty as charged.”
“The whole town is talking about it.” She took the scissors and examined his hair. “Just a trim?”
“Yes. Thanks.” He studied Peggy, watching her as she cut. “What are they saying?”
“Who?” She smacked her gum.
“The town?”
“Oh, right.” She stopped cutting and leaned in. “Well, it’s so unlike her.”
“What do you mean?”
“Emma’s very practical, and after what Michael did to her, upping and moving away like he did last winter . . . well, we were all just surprised that she’s ready to move on.”
“Michael?”
“Her ex-boyfriend.” She set down her scissors and reached for an electric clipper.
“I heard about him.” He had no clue who this Michael was, but suspected it was the same guy that Caitlin referred to last week as the man who Emma started dating after they broke up. “They were close I take it?”
She nodded. “Although, none of us really ever thought he was good enough for her. He’s kind of full of himself. Still, we thought we’d be doing her hair for her wedding next summer.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Were they engaged? Did the batter predict it?”
“You know about Batter Up?”
“Yeah,” he said sarcastically. “Isn’t that how everyone gets together around here?”
“Not everyone.” She set her clippers down and pumped out some mousse into her palm, running the white foam through his hair. “Just the men who need some extra help.” She patted him on his shoulders, resting her hands a few seconds. “I bet you’ll do fine on your own. How long are you visiting?”
“Just until Labor Day.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Well, you better do right by Emma. Don’t go breaking her heart.”
He smiled. “I’ll try not to.” He added, “I hope she doesn’t break mine.”
Peggy laughed. “Oh, you kids and your summer flings. If I wasn’t married to Charlie, I might have bid on one myself.” She leaned down next to his ear. “Maybe given Emma a run for her money.”
Jason smiled. Women flirting with him was nothing new. He figured it was the dimples. Got them every time. “So, Peggy . . .” It was time to get down to business. “Did Emma introduce you to your husband?”
“Well . . .”
Bingo! Her sheepish look confirmed it.
“She may have given Charlie a little encouragement.”
Jason’s ears perked. “So, why did she choose him?”
Peggy shrugged. “I guess he got picked.”
“Got picked?”
“Yep.” She snapped the button off his cape and pulled it off. “I don’t know how she does it. I think it’s a lottery of some sort. The bachelor is picked the previous week.”
“So, she has a week during which she knows who the bachelor is?” A-ha! She spent the entire week researching her bachelor and figuring out the perfect single lady for him. That had to be it. She probably spent that week getting to know the poor sap real well. It was completely logical.
