by Maggie Way
“John is leaving. He asked if you had any questions.” She was wringing her hands.
“Thanks for letting me standby and listen. I’m sure I’ll have some after we talk.” That’s right, suit man. Lotts would definitely talk it over with him to the point of nearly beating it to death, but he’d listen to every word. Or as many as he could.
Thorpe scanned Bill from head to toe, clearly assessing him, then turned to Lottie. “I have all the faith that you’ll make the right decision.” He stuck out his hand. “It will be fun working with you.” When she placed her hand in his, he did that double shake thing Bill found annoying, where he clasped her hand tightly between both of his. Even as a pastor, he never partook in double shakes. They felt slimy to him.
Bill held out the proposal with the image on top. “Is this a firm direction on branding or a mere suggestion?”
“Clever, right? Sex sells, Pastor. I’m sure a man of your delicate sensibilities might find that offensive, but I promise it will bring people in.”
Bill glanced at the vector of a buxom woman sitting sideways on a couch, her long legs clad only in high heels were up in the air, her skimpy bikini her only attire. She was moments from biting into a cupcake.
“Sex sells cupcakes? Last time I had one, I was standing outside in the park watching children play kickball.” Incredulous, he considered Lottie. Was she really okay with this? “And for the record, do you think it’s smart practice to use the word deadly and cupcakes in the same sentence?”
“It’s Seven Deadly Sins Cupcake. People aren’t that stupid.” Thorputzo snapped his briefcase closed and glared at Bill. “When they see what’s inside, they’ll be dying to try them. No pun intended.”
But Bill knew he’d intended the pun. He was that kinda guy, a schmuck. The sort to think he was a cool, funny guy.
“I bet you want to use that tag line, don’t you? Seven Deadly Sins Cupcakes by Charlotte. One bite and you’ll be dying for another. You could get real clever with that and market the peanut allergy people. Ask them of they’re willing to gamble their lives for one of these divine cupcakes. Irony for their gluttony.” Bill scratched his chin. “Or maybe it’s greed.” Bill snapped, then turned his ire toward Lottie. “Lottie’s cupcakes, taking out one sinner at a time.”
“Bill. That’s not even funny.” Lottie whispered.
“Yeah, neither is this. It’s a cupcake. Primarily bought for children.” He tossed the proposal on the counter. “I’ll see you out, John.”
After showing John to the door, Bill found Lottie still in the kitchen leaning against the counter holding the proposal.
“How dare you insult him like you did,” she hissed.
Chapter Seventeen
Lottie was seething. Seething at John, at Bill, and even at herself. She’d gone to a fabulous culinary school, had incredible job offers, and yet came home because she loved this stupid small town. More importantly, she knew even then she loved that stupid pig-headed man staring at her right now, mouth agape.
“What? Wait. His ideas are insupportable. Are you seriously entertaining his deal?” Bill stuck his hands on his hips and stared at her incredulously.
Lottie slapped the paper on the counter and picked up a bowl. She needed to do something productive with her hands lest she strangled him with them. “I might be. I might not. But you don’t get to come in here and act like you have a say. You don’t get to come in here and poke fun at him.”
“Lotts—”
She shook a pasty whisk at him. “Don’t you ‘Lotts’ me. What if he pulled the deal? Hm, you think of that? Probably not, because it’s not your deal. It’s nothing to you if he pulled it.” She dumped an estimated two cups of confectionary sugar in a bowl. She was surprised all the eggshells didn’t go into the bowl she cracked them so hard. After adding the vanilla and almond milk, she began a furious whisk.
“I’m sorry. He seemed pretty determined to bring you on board. Even flirting with you to clinch the deal.”
Lottie gasped, her manic frosting making came to an immediate halt. “Are you saying he wouldn’t have flirted with me otherwise?”
Bills hands went from his hips to his pockets. “Ah, I’m saying he should try and separate the two.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Did you see this, Lottie?” He grabbed the proposal from the counter and waved in her face. “Are you serious about this? This is the image you want to put out?”
She set the frosting bowl down with such force she was surprised it didn’t break. Grabbing the papers from his hand she flipped it to the second to last page.
“Look, Billy, see that number? That’s what has my attention. With that amount of money I can buy the Gardners’ building. I can afford to redo the kitchen and storefront. Every quarter I’ll have an income coming in. I won’t have to work here anymore.” She held out her arms and spun in the open space.
“Is it so awful working for your family that you’d sell your recipes and name to the devil?”
“Dear Lord, that’s extreme even for you,” she said sarcastically. “Really? The devil?”
“I don’t mean literally. I mean figuratively. This deal will make you feel awful about yourself. It will fill you with regret.” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs back.
If she weren’t so mad at him, she’d compliment his new haircut. Instead she picked up the bowl.
“Why does he want to make sure you have no image associated with the recipes? Answer that?”
“Because he’s selling a brand—”
“And you don’t fit that brand, Lotts. He’s asking you to sign a clause saying you won’t associate your image with the cupcakes.” He stared at her, likely waiting for her to agree. But she just couldn’t. He came in with his cute new haircut and sexy swagger, acting like he was her partner or more—her husband. It had filled her with such a longing for it to be true that she hadn’t even heard half of what John had offered.
And yes, not associating her image with her recipes did sting. Hey, she was human. She wanted credit like anyone else. She wanted people to come to her bakery for her cupcakes because they heard about them. But how would they hear about them if no one knew they came from her?
Argh! She hated when Bill had a point, particularly when he was right.
“You want me to be here when you turn him down?” Bill moved to stand next to her. “Because I totally will.”
She stopped whisking again. “You want me to come with you when you tell Lady Catherine to go pound sand, you don’t want to her church?”
He pressed his lips into a thin line before answering. “You know that’s a different situation.”
“Oh, is it? How about you invite her to see your act? Want me to be there when that goes down?” She met his stare and was determined to outlast him.
“Lottie.” He shrugged slowly. “Telling the Thorpedo to suck it is not the same as me telling my family to suck it. Are you going to show your parents this picture?” He pointed to the papers. “Will it fill you with pride to see these cupcakes with this image? Because I’d bet no on both accounts.”
“You think you know me so well.” She tapped the whisk against the bowl.
“Yeah, I know you better than you know yourself.” He smirked.
She dipped the whisk in the bowl, loading its wires with frosting, and then flicked it on him. He was covered in a splatter of white royal icing. He sputtered and blinked then licked a glob from his lip.
“I didn’t see that coming,” he said. He lunged forward, sticking his hand in the bowl and scooping out a small handful and threw it at her. It landed in a clump, clinging to her hair and side of face.
“You’re an idiot, William Collins,” she said scooping the blob from her neck. He took a step back, but she flung it, catching him on the arm. As if something snapped inside her, she set the bowl down and scooped up as much as both hands could hold and started firing frosting at him.
He laughed and ducked, picki
ng up what he could from the floor and flinging it back. “Why you gotta call me names like that? What ever did I do to you?” He stepped aside missing a rather large mass waffling through the air.
“You think you have me all figured out. But you don’t. I have secrets you know nothing about.” She flung another handful, but he ducked so the glob splattered on the wall.
“Who you kidding? You don’t keep anything from me.” He wiped his hand across the mess on the wall and then turned to flick it at her.
She stared at her frosting-covered hands, considered her options, and decided to stop wishing for life to happen to her and to make her life happen instead. He thought he knew her so well. She’d see if he saw this coming, and more importantly, what he would do about it.
“Let’s call a truce,” she said and made sure she had his undivided attention. She licked a streak of frosting off her hand, nice and slow. Enough was enough. She was in love with Bill Collins and tired of waiting for him to figure it out.
His eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward.
She made another lick, not saying a word. She added a moan for good measure.
He thought he knew her did he? Well, she knew a thing or two about him.
“Lottie,” he said gruffly. “What are you doing?”
“Want to taste?” She held out her hand and stepped closer. She wanted him to take the last steps. Just two little ones. She needed him to make the final move.
He searched her face. She could tell he wanted her; he kept licking his lips and flexing his hands, as if they helped him control his wants. But she could see the uncertainty as well. She wished she knew what was causing it.
“You have a little…” She rubbed the bottom of her lip.
“You do, too.”
She grinned then stuck her pinkie in her mouth, cleaning off the icing. Following a groan, Bill rushed her, pushing her back against a wall. He grabbed her face between his hands and began licking bits of frosting off her face and neck. She fisted his shirt and held on.
“Lotts,” he whispered then left her speechless when his lips met hers in the softest kiss she’d ever experienced. Not that she’d experienced a lot of kissing. A few in high school, the occasional odd one in college, but she’d always held out for Bill. And this.
She pressed herself against him. Enough was enough. It was time they took this to the next level.
No! Not that level, but at the very least a real date.
He trailed a path of kisses along her jaw and down her neck.
“What do you say about coming here tonight for dinner, after the café closes?” She moved her head to the side to allow him greater access. “You know, for a real date.”
He paused, his lips over the pulse point in her neck. “A date?” He mumbled.
“Yeah, it’s what people do when they’re interested in each other.” She held her breath, her heart thumping erratically, waiting for what she needed. Him.
He straightened and took a small step back, his right arm extended over her shoulder and resting against the wall. “This” —he circled his finger in the space between them—“is new for me. I never saw it coming.”
Anger sparked inside her. “Because you’re daft,” she mumbled. This was not how she envisioned this going. Bill was going to make coming together more difficult than it need be.
“You’re wanting something serious, Lotts. I’m not. I don’t even know if I want to continue with the clergy.” He shook his head. “And what happens to us if this turns out to be a dud. Not only do I not want what you do, but if we fool around, I risk losing my best friend.” He shook his head some more.
“Billy—”
“Besides, you know Anne and Darcy ran us through their program, and it says we aren’t a good match. I think that has to be taken into account.”
Lottie stared, amazed he would use these poor excuses to hide behind. Was he really that scared? Or could it be she’d read the signs wrong? The moment of doubt fed her anger. No, Charlotte Lucas was nothing if not decisive about her life. Going to pastry school was the right decision. Moving home, albeit sometimes very frustrating, had been the right decision, and loving Bill had always been the right decision. Certainly these decisions hadn’t brought immediate bliss, but they promised it. So long as everyone was as self-aware as she was. Which didn’t seem the case with Bill.
“Are you saying that over a quarter of a century of friendship is simply not even a consideration, but negated by a computer? And that you are actually considering the merit of it?” Her voice shook from frustration.
“I don’t think I can simply discount it. I—”
“Get out.” She pushed him from her, and then spun him around. “Just go. If you stay any longer and say another asinine thing, I think I might kill you.” She pushed him toward the back door.
“Lotts.” He tried to twist toward her, but anger gave her strength.
“I deserve a man who wants to be with me, Bill. A man who can’t wait to be with me. I thought you were that man, but you aren’t. Probably because you aren’t even your own man.” She stepped around him, opened the back door, and shoved him out. The confused expression on his face would have been comical if she weren’t so mad, and knowing he was so clueless made the anger fully blossom.
“You’re an idiot, William Collins,” she shouted, then stuck out her tongue and made the largest raspberry sound she could before slamming the door in his face.
She whipped it open a second later and found him standing as she’d just left him. “And I’m not coming over to watch the shows tonight either. You big stupid boob.” Man, it felt good to slam it a second time. If she could think of one more thing to yell at him about she would, simply to get the satisfaction the third door-slam would give her.
Chapter Eighteen
The first day of summer was a scorcher. Before the sun was fully up, the temps had reached the high nineties. By noon it was one hundred and one degrees.
Because the media warned of potential power outages, everyone at Meryton was crammed in one office using one overworked and on-its-last-legs window AC unit. Elizabeth wasn’t sure which irritated her more, the heat or Darcy taking the seat next to her at the table they’d moved into the room for everyone to work on.
Oh, how she longed for the days when they peacefully went about their business, helping others fall in love.
To top off her irritation was the fact that Lottie was mad at Bill. Not even speaking to him. When Elizabeth asked what had happened, she’d gone red in the face and stormed off mumbling about men and their lack of brains.
“Okay,” Jane said for the third time. “We should start. I apologize, but the heat has me distracted.”
No more than the man sitting next to her Elizabeth observed. Chaz and Jane had spent the last ten minutes smiling at each other and talking in hushed tones.
“Maybe we should wait,” Elizabeth suggested.
As if on cue, the window unit turned off. The air it had been blowing came to a slow end.
Bill jerked his thumb upward; the lights were out as well. “Brownout I bet.”
Elizabeth pulled out her phone and checked the local sites. “You are correct. They project it will last the rest of the day. How did we miss this information?”
She swore Darcy snickered. Likely a poke at her lack of technology use or maybe that she had poor awareness. Who knew what the man thought?
“I can’t work like this,” Bill said. He wiped his arm across his brow.
“We could pop over to Rosings and swim in the pool,” offered Anne.
Bill was staring at Elizabeth, making weird eye movements as if willing her to interpret their meaning. “Yes, water is very refreshing.” He smirked.
She totally got the message. “I’ll call Kitty,” she shouted, jumping up from her seat and pointing at him.
“Lotts,” he replied.
“Jane,” she answered.
“What’s going on here?” Anne asked. “Have you two lost your
mind?”
“I’m texting Lydia now,” said Jane.
“Would someone please explain,” Anne yelled.
Bill waited for Elizabeth to do so, but she indicated he should go ahead.
“Occasionally, on days that are excessively hot and being inside is unbearable, like today, we engage in a…sport if you will. Something to pass the time.”
“A sport? In this heat?” Chaz asked Jane.
“There’s no concern for a water shortage so we take advantage of that. We play kickball.” Jane smiled innocently.
“Water kickball,” Bill clarified.
“Some call it extreme slip-and-slide kickball,” added Elizabeth. “I’ve texted Lottie and she’s getting the stuff ready.”
“I want in,” Anne said.
“Me, too,” added Chaz.
They both turned to Darcy, Elizabeth did not. She knew he would never engage in such…frivolity…with country folk. Her thoughts almost made her laugh out loud. In her head she could hear him say it in his droll voice. If he only knew what she thought about him.
“You and Elizabeth are on opposite teams?” Darcy asked, and she turned to face him.
Bill answered, “Usually. If we have enough people then we join up.”
Darcy studied her.
“I’m sure you all are more than willing to stay and tough it out in the heat and no electricity, but I’m calling off today and I’m letting all my employees go home,” Elizabeth told him, challenging him to deny her the right.
“What if someone should come by desperate for love and need immediate assistance?”
“We put a sign on the door,” Jane answered.
Elizabeth slid her laptop into her bag and moved to her desk to retrieve her purse. “I’ll see you there, Bill. Have a good day, Mr. Darcy.” She left as fast as her feet could carry her.
At home she collected the blow-up pools, drop cloths, and air pumps. A peek out the window showed Mr. Yelvington had recently mowed, which would make playing all the better. Changing into running shorts and a tight T-shirt, because getting plastic or grass burns was a complication of the game, she and Lottie went out to the pasture to set up. Mr. Yelvington was such a sport that he allowed them to use his water, as their hose wouldn’t reach from her place.
