by Olivia Arran
Unless he’s told someone?
Why should I care if he did? It wasn’t like I’d end up the bad guy. Though, the thought of everyone knowing that I’d been foolish enough to fall for him and his lies had my insides shriveling and dust churning in my stomach. “We’re not talking.” I meant it to come out all strident and cool, instead it ended up a mumble aimed at the floor.
“Nope. Not … talking.”
My eyes snapped up, catching his wink.
“Oh … oh! I can come back later,” Amy blurted out, edging her way back toward the door.
“No!” I grabbed her hand, hauling her back to me and remembering at the last minute her injured foot. I leaned into her ear. “Sorry,” I whispered, “but please don’t leave me alone with him. He’s ten seconds away from making me want to rip my hair out.” Or rip something … off. There he was again, stripping inside my head, blatantly breaking all the rules.
I glared at him, half wondering if he had hypnotized me while I was asleep. That would make sense, would explain all these strange … ideas I was getting. Better than the alternative, anyway.
Amy patted my hand, deftly uncurling my fingers from where they dug into her skin. “I came over here to ask you something, but I’m not sure now,” she finished in a musing voice, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else but here.
Half leading, half dragging, I maneuvered her over to the little table and pushed her down into a chair. “Tell me, you know you can ask me anything.” And if it meant I didn’t have to talk to Ralph…
“Do you remember me saying that Ryan and I were thinking about officially tying the knot?”
I nodded, sinking into the chair opposite her. To outsiders we had always jokingly referred to Amy and Ryan as newlyweds, though they were actually only engaged to be married. Semantics, if you asked me. Anyone with eyes could see they were desperately and completely smitten with each other; it was only a matter of time.
She smoothed a hand over her hair, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Well, after everything that happened the other day—the fire at the bakery—we’ve moved it forward.”
“That makes sense. When were you thinking of?” I was just wishing I had something to do with my hands when a fresh mug of coffee landed in front of me, plus one for Amy. I resisted meeting his eyes. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” he murmured, taking the seat next to me.
My chair scraped on the kitchen floor as I inched it away. “Go on, Amy.” I reached for my mug, colliding with his hand and sending goosebumps ricocheting up my arms. Stiffening my spine, I nipped the shiver in the bud.
“Next week.”
I nearly choked on the mouthful of coffee, spluttering and wheezing as I gasped for air. “Next week?” I managed to force out.
Amy leaned back in her chair, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Yup. Next week. There didn’t seem much point in putting it off, I don’t have any family to work around and Ryan really wants to adopt Luke officially. Being married will make it easier.”
“Wow. Congratulations!” Leaping out of my chair, I rushed around the table. Amy met me halfway and we danced an excited jig, squealing and jumping. Well, she hopped more than jumped. “Wait!” I cried, gripping her arms to keep her bouncing head in eyeshot. “Where are you having it?”
“Here, in Craggstone, at the chapel, then back here for the after party. And I’d like you to do the catering,” she said in a rush.
I blinked at her. “Me?” Cater a wedding? Sure, I had mentioned it to her in passing, my dreams of expanding the bakery into something more, but…
“You said you wanted to get into catering, and no way could I get married without a Connie special cake! And those little pastries you make, with the pink frosting and raspberry jam. Oh, and the bear claws. Ryan and the boys would kill me if I didn’t provide them with bear claws.”
“We sure would.” Ralph’s gravelly voice behind me threw a bucket of ice cold water on my enthusiasm.
“You knew about this?” I spun around, pinning him with a glare.
“That my brother was getting married?” He shrugged a muscular shoulder, still slouched in his chair. “Of course I did.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. He was being deliberately obtuse; he knew exactly what I was asking. “That I would be asked to cater.”
This time his smirk was broad and mocking. “I might have.”
Amy reached around me and smacked him on the shoulder. “Pay no attention to him, of course he knew. He’s the one…” Her words trailed off as she stared at the both of us, her eyes rounding and mouth dropping open. “Oooh, you devious so and so!” She clicked her tongue at Ralph, but she didn’t seem that put out.
Something told me I wasn’t going to like this… Planting my hands on my hips, I tapped my foot. “Exactly what did he do?” Then it clicked. “You offered your kitchen?”
He spread his arms wide. “Everything I have is at your disposal, sugar.” His wicked grin supplied the implied words: including me.
Ignoring the silent conversation we appeared to be having, it was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to go to hell when I saw Amy’s face. Her hopeful, pleading, albeit, slightly mischievous face. My best friend needed me—how could I say no?
“Please, Connie,” she wheedled, obviously sensing my weakening resolve.
I bit my lip, searching for an answer, anything that didn’t include spending the next week in close quarters with him. “The bakery?”
She shook her head. “You haven’t seen it?”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to, or if I could take it right now. “Your house?”
She laughed. “I have one oven and it’s temperamental at best.”
I was starting to suspect that Ralph wasn’t alone in his scheming. I pointed at the man in question, refusing to look at him. “He has to promise to behave.”
“He will, won’t you Ralph?” she eagerly agreed.
I waited for the man himself to speak, certain that he would save me from agreeing to this lunacy by acting like his usual self.
“Agreed. Friends only until the wedding, you have my word.” His voice was low and sincere, with not a scrap of guile.
“Really?” This time I did look at him.
He nodded. “Even if you beg for more.”
My cheeks heated; I could feel Amy staring at me. “No need to worry your pretty head about that; never going to happen.”
“Then there’s no reason to say no.”
He was right, and if I did object I’d not only look like a foolish woman, I’d be letting down my friend. “Okay.”
Amy’s squeal shattered my eardrums, her exuberant hug squeezing the air out of me. “Thank you, thank you! I’ll call in later to talk about menu ideas!” She scurried out of the restaurant, her limp virtually non-existent—with a big grin and and an airy wave that left me breathlessly wondering what the hell had just happened.
Then, we were alone. Again. Determined to set some guidelines, I rounded on Ralph, expecting him to be wearing a big self-satisfied smirk.
Which he was, his lips smug and confident in a way that had my blood boiling and stomach flipping. But it was the look in his eyes that had the words freezing on my tongue.
One I recognized from memories of a long time ago, when life had been simple and trust a given. Adoration. Love. My stomach’s flipping turned into crazy somersaults, my mouth dry and throat working as I searched for something to say.
He stood up from his chair in silence, never breaking eye contact as he walked around me toward the door.
Following his progress, I turned. “Ralph—”
He paused in the doorway. “You have until the wedding to make your mind up about me. Then, if you’re still unsure of what we could have, how right we are for each other, I’ll have to convince you.”
“Convince me?” Great, now my mouth was working. All breathy and soft and not at all the snappy comeback I’d been hoping for.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make s
ure you like it.” Throwing me a wink, he sauntered out into the main bar area.
Damn him. He didn’t need to convince me; I already knew he was right. And that was the problem.
Chapter Six
Ralph
My feet hit the floor before my eyes had even opened. Sucking in a deep breath, I held it, until my lungs began to ache and burn, my blood thundering in my ears and heart racing as it valiantly tried to pump harder. Exhaling long and low, I stretched my arms to the ceiling, rolling my shoulders back and around, my head lolling back as I blinked at the air. Through the walls I could hear the low snuffle of someone sleeping, the soft sigh as she rolled and stretched, slowly coming awake.
Another day, another morning.
I had never felt so alive. So ready to experience what the world had to throw at me. The last half-dozen years were a fog of alcohol and pain, numbing and distant and indistinct. She was here, in my home, only a door away.
Standing, I walked over to the window and pulled up the blinds. Sunlight speared my retinas. Cursing, I blinked away the stars that danced in front of my eyes, pushing my hair out of my face. Morning. Another thing I hadn’t experienced much, until lately. Life was fucking good.
Jumping in the shower, I had a quick splash and spruce, then headed to the stairs, coffee on my mind.
A door clicked open.
“Morning,” I called, sliding past her.
She blinked bleary eyes at me, her hair sticking out from her head and creases lining her cheeks. “How are you so cheerful?”
Widening my grin, I shrugged. “You used to be a morning person.”
“Only when I had a gallon of coffee inside me first.”
“That can be arranged.”
Her scowl lifted into a hopeful half smile. “Really?”
“It’ll be ready when you’re done with your shower.” Bounding down the stairs without a second glance, I scowled at the fancy espresso machine in the bar area, ignoring it to head into the kitchen and flick on the old-fashioned coffee pot. Only Kelly, the girl who worked the bar on the weekends, knew how to work the magic machine. And my brothers. And Amy. And Merrie, one of my other sister-in-laws. Rubbing a hand over my chin, I dumped cream into two mugs. Hell, everyone knew how to work it, apart from me. I wasn’t even sure why I’d bought the damn thing. I was pretty sure it had been Ryan who’d talked me into it, if only so he could mooch his fancy cappuccinos off me. I looked down at the coffee jug. What if Connie wants a cappuccino? Shit. Five strides and I was jabbing buttons and cursing the air blue, the machine whistling to life in a chugging, spurting mystery of nature. Foam frothed and beans ground. I took the cup out, sniffing at it cautiously. It smelled okay. I took a sip.
“Ralph?”
Coffee splattered the wall. Grabbing a napkin, I wiped my mouth, dumped the foul mixture into the sink, and turned to face her. “It’s broken,” I confirmed, ushering her into the kitchen with a hand hovering at the base of her back. I sniffed the air, tasting her on my tongue. She smelled like spiced cookies; warm and inviting. Water dripped from the ends of her hair, her skin still pinked from the shower and shirt clinging to still damp skin. “You were fast.”
“You mentioned coffee.”
Watching her attack the coffee jug, I smothered a grin. “I’ll have to remember that for the next time I need you to get a move on.”
Taking a sip, she hummed a sound of contentment, before gulping down what must be a scalding mouthful. “There won’t be a next time, Ralph.”
“Keep telling yourself that, kid.” Before she could chime in with her latest objection—adding to the long list she’d been compiling since yesterday morning—I continued, “Now, what’s our first job?”
She pursed her lips “Our?”
“Sure. You didn’t think I’d leave you to deal with this all on your own, did you?”
“Well … yes.” She sounded like she’d been counting on it.
“You don’t know your way around my kitchen. And, anyway, I have service tonight.”
“You’re opening the restaurant?”
“If I want to be able to stay open, yes.”
“Oh. Okay.” Her eyes flicked to the steel worktops shining in the morning sun, then back to me. “I can work around you.”
“At least let me help you pick up your ingredients.” I leaned back against the wall, resisting the urge to glower at her stubbornness. “Unless you want to lug it all back to town on your own?”
Her face brightened. “Is that why you’re up so early?”
“Nope. I get my ingredients delivered, but you’re going to need to go shopping. Catering a wedding is a lot more complicated than baking a cake.”
Her face fell, shutters coming down. Shoulders setting in a defeated slump, she collapsed into a chair and set her coffee mug down. “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”
Fuck. I was by her side in two seconds flat. The Connie I’d once known would have risen to the challenge with a great big fuck you in her eye and a wiggle in her hips. So, what the hell was going on? Crouching down beside her, I weighed my options. I could take the soft approach, or I could— “You don’t think you can do this?”
“I don’t know. I thought … then, now…” It was nearly a wail.
“Then, don’t. Tell Amy you can’t and she’ll give the job to someone else.”
Big brown eyes blinked at me.
“Trust me, you’re better off telling her now than making a mess of the whole fucking thing.”
“You don’t think I can do this?” She sounded incredulous. And, if I was reading her right—which was a big fucking if—just the right amount of pissed.
That’s right, babe, tell me to fuck off.
Arching an eyebrow, I curled my lip. “Better than letting your best friend down and ruining her wedding. Not to mention, that’s one of my favorite brothers she’s marrying. I’d be an ass if I didn’t look out for his best interests.” I had four brothers; they all took turns in pissing me off. Ryan had redeemed himself at the moment.
“Let me guess, you think you’d be the better choice for the job?”
Lifting my shoulder, I let it drop, then stretched up to standing. “I could cater a wedding with my eyes closed.” Come on, take the bait… Silence stretched between us, and for a second I thought I’d pushed her too far. A lot could have changed—
“You can kiss my ass, Everson, if you think you’re taking another opportunity away from me again.” Fury burned in her eyes, elevating her from beautiful to downright fucking ethereal, her hair swooshing over her shoulders as she jumped to her feet and jabbed her finger in my chest.
“You’re the one that said you weren’t up to the job.”
Another jab, this time hard enough to dent muscle. “No, I said I wasn’t sure.”
I leaned into her hand. “And you are now?” I murmured, eyeing her mouth thoughtfully. If it wasn’t for that damned promise, I’d be kissing the indignation right off those soft lips. The perfect way to take her mind off her nerves, give her something else to worry and fret about.
But, that wasn’t the plan. I had a week to charm and woo her, make her see that everything that had happened between us before had been a mistake. A cruel, twisted fucked up mess. At that point, a kiss would be the least of what she wanted from me.
How about telling her the truth, for once? My bear chose that exact moment to chime in, his timing impeccable as usual, his low growl dripping with unveiled sarcasm.
What? And hurt her even more? It would destroy her. No. When it’s time, I’ll tell her about you. The past will stay buried, I sent back.
“I am.” Her voice brought me back to the here and now.
Abandoning my act, I gripped her shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “Good. I’ll help you.”
Chin raised, she tilted her head, a muscle working in her jaw as she regarded me. Then she laughed, short and sharp. “You’re an asshole. You played me.”
“You let me.”
“You never used
to be this bad.”
“You never used to doubt yourself.”
Her tongue flickered out to lick at her lips, her eyes sliding away. “If you’re going to help, then you’ll be assisting me. I’m in charge.” The corner of her lips edged up, mouth pursed.
“Of course you are.”
Giving me a shove, she waltzed past me. “Oh, you’d better believe it, buddy,” came trailing back over her shoulder. “You coming?”
I didn’t hesitate. Of course I was.
I would follow her anywhere. And, I was starting to suspect, she already knew that.
Chapter Seven
Connie
“What do you think of this?”
Ralph bent his dark head over my hand, inhaling deeply. “Smells good. What were you thinking of pairing them with?”
Depositing a few more of the large, bell shaped tomatoes into my basket, I let my eyes wander across the stall, eyeing the produce. “I was thinking a quiche with the tomato.”
“Sounds good, playing to your strengths.”
A glance confirmed he wasn’t winding me up. “Pastry is kind of my thing.”
“Exactly.” Accepting a wedge of cheese from the owner of a neighboring stall, he held it out between pinched fingers. “Taste.”
Leaning in, I closed my eyes and bit down. Strong and smoky, the cheese melted on my tongue with a crumbly texture that would bake perfectly, the sharp bite promising to compliment the sweet, fleshy tomato. “It’s good,” I replied on almost a moan.
Popping the remaining crumbs into his mouth, he chewed thoughtfully. “So, the mains are selected. What about sweets?”
