Sweet Surprise

by Candis Terry

  While Jana headed in one direction, Fiona moved in the other. She got waylaid halfway across the room.

  “Should be illegal a pretty girl like you can stir up stuff that smells so good.” Chester Banks, Sweet’s legendary bowlegged cowboy Casanova gave her a rheumy-eyed wink from above a nose that had somehow kept growing when Chester had long ago stopped.

  “You always say the sweetest things, Mr. Banks.”

  “Got to.” He hitched his starched Wranglers up higher on a pair of skinny hips that challenged his platter-sized silver belt buckle. “Ain’t many of you pretty young girls left for the old codgers like me.”

  Oh, please don’t let Chester be the one who’d sent the flowers, she prayed. He’s a sweet old man but . . .

  “Good Lord, Chester.” This from Gladys Lewis and her overapplied red lipstick. “When are you gonna learn that the young ones aren’t interested in an old coot like you?”

  He grinned and flapped his false teeth at her. “Soon as you and Arlene give up on the young bucks.”

  “Well, heckfire.” Arlene Potter, Gladys’s sidekick frowned. Her blue hair looked like she’d taken particular care to get the bubble curls just right. “That ain’t gonna happen till I’m toes up in the dirt.” Then Arlene leaned in and loudly whispered, “You got the hunk ready to serve up the goodies in his skivvies?”

  Fiona chuckled. “I’m afraid not today. From what I hear, he and his skivvies are putting out fires in San Antonio.”

  “Oooh. I like firemen.” Arlene lifted a hand to make sure her hair was in place.

  Apparently she missed the part where Fiona had mentioned the man was at least thirty miles away. Still, she didn’t want Arlene standing around all day waiting to see if the hunk in his skivvies would show up. Diversions always worked, so Fiona guided the elderly trio over to the sample table. “Why don’t y’all go ahead and sample the cupcakes. See which flavor tickles your taste buds the most.”

  “You got any made with George Dickel?” Chester asked.

  “Sorry, Mr. Banks. The only cupcake I make with booze is a chocolate Amaretto.”

  “Well, being as you’re so pretty, I guess I’ll have to forgive ya.” He bit into a peanut butter and jelly cupcake and grinned. Apparently, it met his approval.

  Hopefully, the peanut butter wouldn’t dislodge those false teeth. Fiona shuddered. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said to–hopefully–her new fans, “I need to help out behind the counter.”

  Escape was a better word, but she kept her professionalism in full force, along with her smile.

  The consistent crowds throughout the initial rush kept her and Sabrina hopping. She’d just handed a nicely boxed dozen of maple-bacon cupcakes to Gertie West when Jana joined her behind the counter.

  “I’ve struck out,” she said. “Either no one sent the flowers, or they aren’t going to admit it. Though why they wouldn’t has to be the question of the day. So my guess is you have a secret admirer.”

  On a good day, Jana’s smile was like setting voyage on the Good Ship Lollipop. Today, that smile edged into Silver Linings Playbook territory—which raised all kinds of suspicion.

  “Jana?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Are you up to something?”

  “Me?” Jana flattened her hand against the buttons of her bright pink blouse, eyelashes batting innocently. “Sugarplum, whatever would make you say that? I’ve been so busy working with Charli on getting the design shop set up, I’ve barely had time to see Martin, let alone create any mischief.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Honest.” She held up two fingers in a pledge, then flashed another cagey grin as she sauntered away.

  Fifteen minutes later, the initial rush shifted into the second wave. Cupcakes flew out the door in their pretty pink window boxes so fast, Fiona began to worry they wouldn’t have enough to last until closing time. Forget the concern over leftovers.

  Throughout the day, special friends like Paige and Aiden Marshall, who owned and operated the Honey Hill Bed-and-Breakfast, as well as Deputy Brady Bennett and Sarah Randall, his new girlfriend, who was also one of Izzy’s favorite waitresses at Bud’s Diner, popped in for a taste and a to go box. Even Aiden’s gorgeous brother and former Army Special Forces medic, Ben Marshall, snuck out of his sporting-goods store long enough to grab a four-pack of PB&J’s to take home. Fiona had never been more grateful for all the support.

  Still, no one claimed to have sent the flowers.

  During the day, as she and Sabrina kept busy, Fiona couldn’t help glance up at the clock now and then. Sabrina had said Mike would try to be there after his shift ended. With the afternoon coming on strong and no sign of his hotness, Fiona knew she’d been right. She’d been too much of a tease, and she’d either scared the heck out of him or completely ticked him off.

  Sure, her initial wrapping of herself around his smoking-hot muscular body had been intended as sheer appreciation for the beautiful table and pedestals he’d created for her shop. But then they kissed, she’d lost her mind, and the rest was embarrassing history.

  If he hadn’t set fire to the soles of his boots and rocketed out of there so fast, she could have explained herself instead of coming off as a little bit desperate and a whole lot hot-and-bothered.

  History had proven there was a pattern to the way things should occur if you wanted forever with a man. She’d tried to reinvent the wheel with Jackson, and it hadn’t worked. Maybe there was some legitimacy to the old-fashioned ways. Not that she knew of any man who’d want to go that route in this day and age of instant gratification. Didn’t really matter anyway. Right now she didn’t have the time, focus, or energy to devote to a relationship.

  But that didn’t stop her from looking up at that blasted clock and wondering.

  By four o’clock, the frenzy had finally dwindled, and Fiona couldn’t wait to put her opening day in the books. Her feet ached, and her stomach rumbled from lack of food. The banana cupcake she’d snarfed down during a short lull earlier hardly classified as lunch. And by now, the sugar high was long gone. Unfortunately, once she locked the doors she still had almost three hundred cupcakes to make for the following day. Soon, she’d get an exact schedule and the quantities tightened up, but for now, she was flying by the seat of her jeans, and she’d have to survive on a little extra caffeine.

  “You look exhausted,” she told Sabrina, whose once-perky ponytail now drooped; and shadows lurked beneath her eyes. “I really appreciate your help today. It looks like things are pretty calm now. Why don’t you go ahead and head home.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Fiona nodded. She actually looked forward to a moment when she could take a deep breath and enjoy the success of the day and her efforts. In the beginning, she hadn’t known if she could handle such a big task all by herself. Of course, she’d had help, but for the most part, she alone would take credit for the overall success or the failure.

  Half an hour after Sabrina said good-bye, Fiona looked up at the clock for the millionth time. Only another half hour, and she could turn the OPEN sign to CLOSED on what she considered a darn good opening day.

  So what if Mike hadn’t shown up.

  Why would she expect him to drive thirty miles just to buy a silly cupcake from a crazy, desperate, single mom who could get a man’s engine running but had no intentions of letting the car out of the garage? He probably had plenty of admirers closer to home. So why deal with one complete nut job?

  With the shop empty of patrons, she took a moment to glance over the work sheet for the following day and began mixing the ingredients for batches of strawberry cream cheese and pink champagne cupcakes. With the heavy richness of the cakes she’d made for today, she’d decided day two should show her diversity with choices a little lighter. Hopefully, at some point, special orders and requests would come in, and she’d get a better sense of what the community preferred.

  She’d just put the pans in the oven and set the timer when the bell over the door
jingled and announced what would most likely be her last customer of the day. She washed her hands and straightened her apron, thinking she should probably give them some kind of special reward. Like a free cupcake. The idea sprung another thought—maybe she should come up with some kind of frequent-flyer punch card. Like buy a dozen and get one free. Or maybe buy six and get a free specialty coffee. With a nod to creative thinking, she headed into the storefront.

  Surprise threw her completely off her game when she found Mike standing near the display case, looking far more delicious in a pair of worn jeans and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves pushed up his forearms than any dessert she could ever create.

  “Hi,” she said, trying her best to sound casual and not like some teenage girl with a crush or the desperate, regretful woman who’d led him on only a few days ago.

  “Hey.” He ran his hand over all that thick ebony hair, giving it a sexy just-out-of-bed look that he totally owned. “Sorry I’m late for the big day.”

  She fought against a quick glance in the mirror to make sure her hair was in place and she didn’t have raccoon mascara eyes. “I really didn’t expect you to show up.”

  His dark eyes scanned her face and the impact burned all the way to her toes.

  “The place looks great.” He came closer to the display case, and over the lingering aroma of warm sugar, she caught the freshly showered and warm cotton scent he wore like an intoxicating cologne. “Smells great too.”

  “Thank you. I had a lot of compliments on the cabinets and the table you made,” she said, trying to keep things on a more professional level rather than the very personal one it became the other day. “I could probably get you some business if you have a card I could hand out.”

  “I appreciate that, but I’ve got more than I can handle now.”

  “Oh.” Unease thickened the air with the unspoken words she knew must be said. And she’d get right on that just as soon as she found the courage. “Well, if you change your mind.”

  “I’ll be sure to let you know.” His casual hand-in-his-pocket manner contradicted the intensity in his expression. “So, how’d opening day go?”

  “Much better than I imagined.” Curious as to why he’d driven all the way from San Antonio at the end of the day, she flashed a tense smile. Not that she didn’t appreciate his efforts. She totally did. As Sabrina had said, he’d had a hand in putting the place together. Without him, she’d have a less-than-perfect bake shop. But keeping her embarrassment over climbing him like a tree was near impossible.

  “Of course, most of those who came in were family, friends, or other shop owners. The following weeks will tell the tale of whether I can actually pull this off or not.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be a huge success.” He rocked back on the soles of a pair of well-worn cowboy boots. “The aroma drifting out of this place is irresistible.”

  “That’s nice of you to say.” She laid her hands on the display case, drumming her fingers impatiently on the glass. “So . . . I guess we might as well talk about the elephant in the room. Please let me start by apologizing for what happened the other day, I try not to be so impulsive.”

  “No need for an apology.”

  “Oh, but there is.” She rushed to explain. “I’m really not that kind of woman. Well, I was. But I’m not anymore. And I wanted to tell you that, but you left so quickly. And honestly, I was stunned by my behavior.”

  “I left because I figured you’d pretty much made your point.”

  His smile put her somewhat at ease.

  “Really? Because I’m pretty sure I was throwing mixed signals all over the place.”

  “Then I guess it’s a good thing I play catcher on the station’s softball team.”

  She’d never noticed, but the slightest dimple formed at the corner of his mouth when he smiled a certain way. “It’s nice of you to not make me feel like a pathetic mess.”

  “Look. You said stop, so I did. I respect that you had enough wherewithal to put on the brakes when I might not have.”

  He might not have?

  What exactly did that mean—other than the obvious?

  “Regardless, that was very out of character for me. I’m really not in the habit of throwing myself at men I barely know.”

  “Then maybe we should take the chance to get to know each other a little better.” The dimple flashed again as he leaned against the display case. “Just in case you’re inspired to launch yourself in my arms again.”

  “Oh. No.” Her face heated. To divert her humiliation, she grabbed a towel and began to wipe down the counter. “I can assure you that was a onetime thing.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Her head came up, and she searched for a trace of sarcasm in the comment. To her utter relief, she found only a healthy dose of flirtation.

  “I’m glad you came back,” she said.

  “Are you?” His head tilted. Just barely. But it was enough to let her know he was as curious as she about whatever this was heating up the space between them.

  She nodded. “I really appreciate the help you gave me putting the place together. And I wanted to . . .”

  “You wanted to what?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I guess I wanted to be able to share the moment with you. I know that probably sounds ridiculous. We barely know each other. But there you go. I’m happy you’re here. Happy you got to see the results of your hard work. Even if I did my awkward best to scare you off.”

  “Not much frightens me.”

  No doubt. He was a big, hunky fireman who ran into burning buildings. On purpose.

  “Look, I don’t want to be presumptuous or overload you with my personal issues. Especially not today.” Unable to meet his eyes, she glanced down at the decades of scuffs marking the floor. “But after the divorce, I swore I’d take things slow. I swore I wouldn’t make any more mistakes. I know it’s impossible to predict what will happen down the road, but it’s not just about me anymore. I have Izzy. And she comes first.”

  “I understand.”

  “On the other hand . . . I can’t deny my attraction to you, and—”

  “Fiona?”

  The dark edge to his voice brought her head up. “What?”

  While she’d been studying the heel marks on the floor and blabbering like a fool, he’d moved to her side of the display case.

  Close.

  So very close she could feel the heat radiate from his body.

  “Just so you know, I didn’t drive all the way from San Antonio for an apology. And I didn’t come back to make you feel bad about what happened.” He reached out and cupped her cheek in one big hand. “Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact.”

  The memory of being in his arms and kissing him until she was mindless with pleasure, flashed back, and her heart took off like a wild rabbit.

  “I came back because even though I shouldn’t, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” His thumb stroked gently over the swell of her cheek, and his dark gaze swept over her like he was thinking far beyond the flavors of her cupcakes.

  “I came back because you intrigue the hell out of me,” he said in a silky-smooth voice that rumbled deep in his chest and hummed through her blood. His sexuality reached out like a coil of rope, tangled her up, and reeled her in.

  With the buzzing in her head, all she could manage in response was a blink.

  “So how about we grab a cup of coffee and get to know each other a little better?”

  “That sounds . . . nice.”

  “You don’t sound too sure.” He glanced up at the clock on the wall. “It’s closing time, Fiona. Your choice. Do I stay?” His gaze swept over her face. “Or do I go?”

  For years she lived in a state of confusion, anger, and rebellion. And she’d made some really dumb choices. She hoped to God she wasn’t about to make another.

  “Maybe I could interest you in a cupcake? I still have banana toffee, spice chai latte, peanut butter and jelly
, red velvet, and a few other flavors left.”

  Luscious male lips curved into a smile. “Which is the most sinful?”

  “Well . . .” Talking about something she was familiar with set her feet back on terra firma. Marginally. “If I had to pick one of my personal guilty pleasures, I’d go with the salted caramel. It’s a caramel cake filled with salted caramel, topped with caramel buttercream, and drizzled with dark chocolate and salted caramel.”

  “Then put me down for guilty pleasures.” A dark brow lifted. “As long as you’ll join me.”

  Just looking at the man was a guilty pleasure. And she didn’t have to look too far to imagine all kinds of sinful trouble they could get into.

  “Would you like a latte or mocha instead of coffee? It’s on the house.”

  “I’m more of a simple black coffee with regular sugar kind of guy.”

  “Oddly enough, so am I. Why don’t you go ahead and have a seat while I lock the door and brew a fresh pot. I’m pretty sure anything left over from this afternoon will taste like battery acid.”

  “Sounds good.”

  As she walked away, the heat from his gaze warmed her backside. When she locked the door, she realized she was a whole lot out of practice on how to behave around a man who didn’t have the name Wilder attached to him. For the first time in a long time, she was about to wade into uncharted waters.

  Although new and exciting, it left her feeling unstable, like she’d stepped aboard a sailing sloop in torrential waters. Yet even as she lifted the glass display dome and set the cupcakes on two small plates, she snuck a glance to where he sat with his long legs stretched out in front of him, looking way too masculine to be settled in one of her pink Victorian bistro chairs. Mike was a gorgeous, sensual man. He made her want things she hadn’t even thought about in a long time. And she couldn’t help wonder how long she’d really be able to take things slow.

  A fresh case of nerves fluttered in her stomach as she turned over the CLOSED sign, then went to put on a fresh pot of coffee. She grabbed the cupcakes and set them down on the table. “I’ll get the coffee and be right back.”