Delighting Miss Daisy [Wayback Texas Series]

by Abbey MacInnis

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  The Wild Rose Press

  www.thewildrosepress.com

  Copyright ©2008 by Kelli Marie Finger

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

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  Delighting Miss Daisy

  by

  Abbey MacInnis

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Delighting Miss Daisy

  COPYRIGHT ©

  2008 by Kelli Marie Finger

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Tamra Westberry

  The Wild Rose Press

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Yellow Rose Edition, 2008

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To my family. I love you, and to my writing friends both online and in person. Thank you.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter One

  Daisy Porter swung her red Corvette into the parking space closest to the door of her bakery. She cut the engine, and the Dixie Chicks song on the radio stopped abruptly. Downtown Wayback was quiet this time of the morning, since the crush wouldn't hit for another hour and a half, giving her more than enough time to finish preparing for the morning madness.

  Pushing a loose strand of medium-length hair off her forehead, Daisy rifled through her purse, and then finally found her keys at the bottom, beneath her compact and an empty pack of spearmint gum. She lifted her hand to slide her key into the lock and froze at the sight of a flyer taped to her door. The paper covered up half her sign that now read, “Home Delights.” Daisy scowled as she ripped the advertisement for Sam's Smooth Sliding Ale off the door.

  She stared in disgust at the mangled photo of a young girl clad in a red, sequined bikini and knee-length, black cowboy boots clinging to a bare-chested, buff hunk with bulging muscles. The scantily-clad cowgirl's slender hands with their long, red-painted nails caressed both the man at her side and the bottle. The condensation from the cold glass dripped seductively over her barely-covered breasts as her coral-painted, full mouth took a deep pull from the rim, her lips and tongue flirting with the opening.

  Daisy shredded the flyer and threw it in the can.

  As she turned and glanced out the open door, Daisy noticed that the whole block appeared to be littered with advertisements for Sam's Smooth Sliding Ale. Every available window and light pole sported a flyer.

  "Well not in my place,” Daisy grumbled, slamming the door of Daisy's Down Home Delights. She ran a family establishment, and the Smooth Sliding Ale-pusher was just going to have to deal with it.

  After setting out a spread of various muffins, tarts, and other breakfast pastries for the morning crowd, Daisy started assembling ingredients for her specialty cakes, pies, and cookies. She glanced up as the bell over the door jingled, and a tall man—about 6'1", she thought—sauntered in. Her gaze went from the top of his dark brown hair past his dark brown eyes, down to the leather briefcase held with long tanned fingers.

  He wasn't local. He stood before her in expensive-looking black pants, a linen shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders and chest, and a tie knotted loosely about his neck. The wealth and power he exuded was in stark contrast to her usual clientele of cowboys and rodeo clowns.

  Daisy pasted a welcoming smile on her face. “Morning. Welcome to Daisy's Down Home Delights. What can I get you?"

  "What do you recommend?” His deep voice poured over her like melted chocolate.

  Daisy flashed him an even wider smile. “Why, everything. It's all good."

  He chuckled as she saw his gaze wander from the shelves piled high with assorted cookies, cakes, pies, and pastries, then to the counters, every inch of their gleaming surfaces filled with other mouth-watering fare.

  "Everything?” He planted himself on one of the stools placed strategically along the counter that stretched across the width of the shop. “As good as it all looks in here, you should have a disclaimer over the door warning customers. ‘One item per person. We are not responsible for any bellyaches or ruined dinners'."

  He eyed a sugar cookie decorated with a frosted bull and rider struggling to keep his seat on the bucking beast. “God, look at that cake."

  Daisy could almost see the drool drip from his wide mouth as his eyes widened at the size of the wedding cake on the opposite counter. The figures of the bride and groom, a medieval knight and his lady standing before their castle, took up the entire cake.

  "You should especially have one for that.” His gaze then roved to the counter behind her, to a white cake she'd decorated to celebrate the Wayback Wildcats’ football victory. The confectionary cat snarled with ferocity at anyone bold enough to challenge him.

  Daisy liked his voice. He didn't have the slow drawl of the South or twang of the West, but the accent of someone from the North, maybe Boston or New York.

  "Why, if I just sold one item at a time, I'd be out of business. Better to risk the bellyaches and ruined dinners. They're not mine, so it's not my worry,” she said easily.

  His eyes twinkled as he pretended to be shocked. She watched as he covered his flat belly with a large, work-roughened hand. “I can feel the cramps already. Reminds me of eating too many caramel candy apples that one Halloween."

  "Why just that one Halloween?” Daisy lifted a speculative brow as she remembered the many dinners she'd spoiled from overindulging. “I can remember many holidays when I made myself sick from eating too many sweets. I'd swear to my brother and my sister that I'd never do it again. But I would, come the next time."

  His gaze moved over her, pausing, Daisy noted with feminine satisfaction, at all the parts men enjoyed looking at. She wasn't vain, but every once in a while she liked being appreciated. He smiled as his gaze traveled up from her toes to her eyes then meandered downward.

  Soft warmth oozed from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can't tell. Your secret is safe with me.” He winked. “I have enough of my own, so what's one more?"

  He's flirting with me. Daisy turned away to hide the blush that stained her cheeks. She dealt with fast-talking cowboys all of the time. Why was it when this stranger regarded her so thoroughly, she wanted to melt at his feet like butter? Maybe it had just been too long since she'd been appreci
ated, even casually, by a member of the opposite sex.

  "Pick your poison, if you dare."

  "Don't mind if I do.” He gestured to a blueberry muffin. “I'll have that, ma'am. Thank you.” Daisy selected the muffin and reached for a bag. “No need for that. I was planning on eating it here, if that's all right."

  "Be my guest. And please, I'm not old enough to be called ma'am. Name's Delia Porter.” Daisy went to a cupboard. Removing a china plate with a flower pattern scattered over its rim, she placed the muffin in the center. The delicate dish appeared fragile in his large grasp.

  "All right then ... Delia. I'll take a coffee too, if you've got some ready."

  Daisy beamed. “I sure do.” Grabbing a cup, she filled it with the strong, dark brew. “Cream or sugar, sir?"

  "Both,” he said from around a mouthful of muffin. “And the name's Sam—Sam Howard. This is excellent."

  Daisy set the coffee on the counter in front of him. “Thank you. Glad you like it."

  A timer beeped. Daisy glided over to one of the ovens and removed a batch of her famous apple fritters. With deft, easy motions, she placed the pastries on a cooling rack, and set another batch to baking. Inhaling apples, cinnamon, and nutmeg made her think of her grandmother, and the love and warmth Daisy had always felt in her kitchen.

  "Knew I smelled apples. Those look delicious."

  Daisy grinned knowingly. “You can have one when they've cooled a bit. They're too hot now. You'd scald your tongue."

  She surveyed him as he devoured the muffin. Setting the fritter along with a fresh cup of coffee at his elbow, Daisy turned her attention to the customers filing in. As she filled an order, a corner of her mouth lifted as she heard a contented purr come from the big man at her counter. It always thrilled her to know she'd satisfied a customer.

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  As Sam wiped the last of the crumbs from his fingertips, he watched Delia work with a quick efficiency he admired. She was a busy woman who didn't waste a minute as she filled orders, mixed batter, and chatted amiably with her customers, many of whom she knew by name.

  A woman with a cranky toddler on her hip entered. Without missing a beat, Delia made change with one hand and tickled a soft cheek with the other. “Howdy partner. Are you being a good boy for your mama? Think she'll let you have a cookie?"

  The frazzled mother readjusted her grip on the little guy. “He's teething. Been crying all morning."

  "Poor little buckaroo.” Delia snatched a sugar cookie from a nearby platter. “Here you go, buddy. See if that doesn't help."

  The crying stopped. The mother sent her a relieved smile. “Thanks D. That'll keep him quiet for a while."

  Another customer placed his order as more patrons crammed into the small shop. Sam stood, vacating his stool. He pushed his way toward the back of the line to observe the controlled chaos.

  When he'd spoken to the mayor of Wayback, Sam hadn't received any objections to circulating his flyers. Beer was a big seller at the rodeo, which in turn brought in a nice profit for the town. Yesterday, Sam had hired a few kids from a local junior college to post his flyers about town. Apparently they'd gone a little crazy, hanging them everywhere without asking permission from the store owners. Sam sighed inwardly. One thing he didn't need was a bunch of angry proprietors. So here he was apologizing to Delia for the mix up. It looked like he'd be spending the rest of the day apologizing to annoyed townspeople.

  After the stream of customers slowed to a trickle, Sam stepped up to the counter.

  Delia let out a heavy sigh as she closed the cash register. “Back for more?"

  "I never left.” Sam leaned a hip against the counter and crossed his ankles. The scent of vanilla drifted across the close space to tease his senses.

  "Oh, is there something else you'd like then, something else I can get you?"

  "No, the muffin and fritter did the trick. But...” He paused and removed a flyer from his briefcase. “I noticed you removed the flyer from your door."

  Sam set it on the counter between them. Delia unfolded it, appraised it, and threw it down after reading the bold large print at the bottom.

  Sam Howard—she'd thought that name sounded familiar. She pointed an accusing finger at him, then at the advertisement which she'd torn in half. “So, this is yours. Let me guess; you're hoping I'll post this in my window and show it off to my clientele."

  She continued before he could apologize. “First off,” Daisy folded her arms across her chest. Leaning over the counter she stared him directly in the eye. “You didn't ask me if you could post that.” She jabbed at the torn flyer. “On my window, or anywhere else in this bakery. So yes, I did destroy it, and this one, because I don't want to advertise alcohol at my place of business.” She swiped the two pieces of paper into the trash can.

  "Actually no, Daisy. I came to apologize."

  "I'm Daisy to my friends, but it's Miss Porter to you.” She bit out as the air sparked between them.

  "Um, right, okay. I'm sorry, Miss Porter."

  He ran a hand over his stubble-shadowed jaw. “I'm going about this all wrong. I'm going to be spending the rest of the day apologizing to business owners for this mess. When I arrived in Wayback about a week ago to do some advertising at the rodeo, I decided to hire a group of college kids to tape up my flyers around town.” He sent her a disarming, charming smile as he explained. “Yesterday, they kind of let things get a bit out of hand."

  "Only a bit out of hand?” she asked, raising a brow.

  "Um, yes, well, like I said, things got a little out of control. It was very rude of them to not ask before taping the flyer to your door, but when I spoke to the mayor, she said that it wouldn't be a problem, that most entrepreneurs wouldn't mind."

  "Well, I'm a small minority of those who don't take too kindly to finding a beer advertisement stuck to their door for anyone to see. I don't care what the mayor told you. She's only concerned with the town, not my business. Of course she'd say we wouldn't mind. You're going to bring in money for her town."

  Daisy had nothing against Gretchen Fremont, the mayor, but Gretchen was a politician through and through. She'd do whatever she thought needed to be done to make Wayback the most popular rodeo town in the country.

  She glared. “There are plenty of other places around town to do your advertising. I don't see how not having a window or two displaying your smooth-sliding ale will hurt your sales.” She contemptuously eyed his designer outfit and briefcase. “You appear to be doing just fine as it is."

  A flicker of annoyance showed in his eyes before the coolness returned. “Yes, ma'am. You're absolutely right. It won't make a difference in my sales. You have a great business here, clean, G-rated. Your customers, especially the kids, appear to love this place. Once again, I'm sorry for what happened. I'm going to circulate my flyers myself from now on just to ensure this doesn't happen again."

  Daisy tapped her foot. She'd like to give him a hard kick in the butt. Who the hell did this guy think he was oozing such ease and confidence?

  The bell over the door rang, alerting them to the arrival of a customer. “If you'll please excuse me.” Daisy turned, breaking the contact. “I have business to attend to."

  Sam wasn't looking forward to visiting every establishment in Wayback if his reception was going to be similar to the one at Miss Porter's. He stepped away from the counter taking his flyers and briefcase with him. Katherine Holloway, the innkeeper at the Dewdrop Inn where he was currently staying, approached.

  A disapproving frown spread across her smooth features. “Sam, leave Daisy be. I'm surprised you haven't run out of those trashy things yet. Why, that girl is practically falling out of her top.” Katherine grimaced as her green gaze flitted from the flyer to stay focused specifically on the handwritten menu on the wall that offered assorted coffees and teas.

  Sam nodded to the two ladies. As he left the shop, he couldn't help turning and setting a fire under them, especially Daisy. He could accept her refusing to
advertise his product, but the way she'd gone off on him, you'd think he was on his way to hell for selling beer. He wondered why she had such a problem with him.

  "I'll be back again for more sweets. Maybe then we can have another chat?” He'd let her interpret his question any way she wanted. Despite her prudish attitude, Miss Delia Porter interested him.

  She stared him down with a hard, unwavering glance. “Fine by me. You buying more sweets, I mean. Just keep those flyers out of my sight, or I'll burn them up in my ovens."

  Sam couldn't help replying, “Then I'll be sure you'll have need of them.” He attempted a Texas twang. Her finely-groomed brows lifted. “I haven't had me a camp fire in a long while. I'm about due."

  "Nice try, sugar, but that measly lil’ thing you call a twang ain't nothing. I meant what I said."

  "So did I. Have a good morning, ladies."

  The door banged shut behind him.

  Sam sauntered out into the bright sunshine. He could handle not advertising at Daisy's Down Home Delights, but he absolutely needed to see Daisy again. The lady who made sweets didn't seem so sugary herself, but he wouldn't mind having her entertain him while he was in town. He vowed this wouldn't be the last she'd see of him.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Two

  Daisy averted her gaze from Sam's retreating back to a rack of apple and peach tarts. At least they didn't talk back.

  Katherine seated herself on one of the counter stools. “I'm happy to see him go.” She set her purse down and folded her hands atop it. “I won't let him put those things up at the Dewdrop, either. I don't want him messing up my great-aunt's beautiful inn."

  Knowing that the pretty brunette liked tea with her breakfast, Daisy reached for a cup and saucer and the basket of tea bags she kept along with the coffee supplies. “I don't want those flyers anywhere near here either, and I told him so. Miss Emma's inn is so lovely. I'm sure she's glad to have you here to help her run it while she recovers.” She sent the sophisticated woman a friendly smile as she asked, “Same as always?"