by Candis Terry
“It’s no big deal.” She tipped the bottle of chocolate upside down and squirted a decorative swoosh across the tops of the coconut. “I’ve been too busy to notice.”
“Really?” He leaned his hip against the prep table where she stood and folded his arms. “Call me crazy, but I sense a hint of annoyance beneath that deceptively calm exterior.”
“Clearly you’re mistaken.” She continued adding chocolate swirls without missing a beat. “I couldn’t be more fine.”
She was that. In spades.
“I’ve been out of town,” he said.
“Really.” A statement, not a question. “You mean you weren’t kidnapped by zombies and taken to the underworld, where they had no access to communications, and you had to fight your way back to the surface?”
“Great imagination.” He chuckled. “There was a family emergency, and I had to fly to Los Angeles.”
Her head snapped up. Her hands stilled. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. You must think I’m a total bitch.”
“Not at all. It’s my fault you’re upset. I should have called. I just didn’t think—”
“No. It’s okay.” Genuine concern replaced the wariness in her eyes as she patted his arm. “Is everything better now?”
“It’s probably never going to be okay. You might as well know that I’ve got a hell of a lot of baggage. So you might want to think twice about taking me on.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
Even though he was happy she didn’t turn and run, he shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“What happened? Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I wish there was. Of my four remaining sisters, only one is doing something good with her life. One falls in the questionable category. And two are hopelessly lost.”
“Oh, Mike. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” Her hand came up to cover her mouth, and he was tempted to pull it away.
He loved looking at her mouth. It was an expressive window to her thoughts and moods. And it tempted him to take her in his arms and kiss whatever expression she wore.
“Remember I told you there was a long list of people I’d let down? My mother and my sisters top that list. After my father was killed, my mother couldn’t function. She just gave up on life. Most days, she works her way through a bottle of Wild Turkey and scorches her lungs on Marlboro Lights while watching Judge Judy. Which is ironic because she has two daughters who’d be prime candidates to appear on that show. My Avó has tried to keep things together, but she’s much older now. And in the past couple of years, she’s developed some health issues. It’s not fair for her to have to deal with all the disasters my family creates.”
Fiona flinched, and he knew what she was thinking. Trouble and alcohol were prominent in his circle of life. When his father had been alive, their family had been a knockoff version of Ozzie and Harriet. After his father died, they became more like a version of Breaking Bad.
“Not only am I the man in the family, I’m the oldest,” he explained. “So I’m usually the one they call to straighten out any unusual situation. I could give you details, but I really don’t want to scare you away.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Her smile gave him an ounce of comfort. “And I stand by my offer to help if you need it.”
“You’ve got enough on your own plate without adding my crazy problems.” He reached out and touched her. Simply because he needed to. “And next time, I promise to call.”
“I’d appreciate that. I’m somewhat of a worrywart.”
He smiled. As much as he’d like to have someone to talk to about his problems, he wasn’t that kind of guy. With him, it was action, not words. Which occasionally got him into trouble. “I’d like to apologize for the disappearing act by taking you out to dinner.”
“Tonight?”
“I know it’s short notice.”
“Well, I’m hardly dressed to go out.”
She swept her hand across her body, which he thought looked good enough to eat. Or at least lick for a really long time like an all-day sucker.
“And I have an order of cupcakes I have to finish before I can leave,” she said.
“Tomorrow’s Sunday. Isn’t that your day off?”
Her smooth shoulders lifted and dropped. “I guess when you’re just starting a business there really are no days off. Plus, I kind of agreed to . . . umm . . .” She glanced away. “Supply the Digging Divas Garden Club with refreshments for their annual membership drive meeting.”
“I’m sure catering for special events is a good way to add income.”
“Well . . . it would be.”
“Would?” He tucked his fingers under her chin and brought her gaze back around to his. Her skin was soft and smooth and he had to stop himself from sneaking a full caress. “Why do you sound and look so suspicious?”
“Who?” She executed a perfect eye roll. “Me?”
“Either you’re trying to ditch me, or something else is going on.”
“Ditch you? You just got here.”
“And you’re just evading.”
She mumbled something incoherent, and he hoped she never played poker because her expressive face gave everything away.
“What’s that?” He held his hand behind his ear and grinned. “Did I hear the word free?”
She sighed. “Maybe.”
“Maybe you’re giving the garden club their cupcakes for free?”
Another sigh lifted her oh-so-amazing chest.
“Gladys and Arlene promised if I’d give them a good deal—as in free—they’d spread the word about my business.”
“Word of mouth is the best advertising there is. As long as they don’t take advantage of you.”
“They won’t.”
“Really?”
She nodded.
“Because I’m thinking that you opened this kind of shop for a reason. You’re a cupcake.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means . . .” Before she could fold those lovely arms and shut him out, he took her hands and drew her against his chest. “You’re sweet, and soft, and you have a really kind heart that probably doesn’t recognize a wolf in an old lady’s Hawaiian-print muumuu.”
Mike searched her face for reaction. When she smiled, his gaze dropped to her lips, and he had to do everything in his power to be the good boy she expected him to be.
“Fiona?”
“Hmm?”
“I really want to kiss you right now.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I’m trying to move slow.”
“Mmmm.” Her thick lashes fluttered as she looked up into his eyes. “I like slow kisses.”
Well hell. So much for being a good boy.
Exhilaration danced in her chest as Mike lowered his head, pressed his lips to hers, and fed her a long, slow kiss that tasted like heaven and made her body hum with need. His hands held the back of her head like she was something precious and fragile. But when his mouth traveled across her cheek and down the side of her neck, and his hands moved lower to clasp her rear end and pull her against the mighty erection behind the zipper of his jeans, all the refinements ended.
All thought flew from her head, and sensation took over.
If the man made love the way he kissed, she was completely on board.
When the kiss finally ended, he held her close, and she could feel the beat of his heart against her chest.
“I could do that all day long,” he muttered.
A sigh slipped from her lungs. “So could I.”
“But . . .” He gave a little squeeze on her butt. “You still have work to do. So how about if I help?”
“You want to make cupcakes?”
“I want to spend time with you. So whether that means making cupcakes or digging ditches, I’m all in.”
How about they skipped the whole cupcake thing and went straight to rolling in frosting together?
She laugh
ed and gave those hard pecs a little pat. “Somehow, I can’t see you as a sprinkles kind of guy.”
“I like sprinkles.” His suggestive smile turned the air in the kitchen a whole lot warmer. “Especially if there’s a cherry on top.”
Before she tossed her resolve over the cliff, she extracted herself from those strong arms, instantly missing their heat and strength.
“If you’re willing to teach me,” he said, “I promise to be a very good student.”
“Hmmm . . .” She tapped her finger to her chin. “I know you’re good with a hose, but how good are you with those hands?”
He held them up for inspection, and all she could think was the old saying, ‘Big hands, big . . . ger body parts.’
“They’re registered with the fire marshal as instruments to serve and protect,” he said. “Will that do?”
Oh, heck yes, it would do.
“Have you ever actually made cupcakes before?” she asked.
“I’ve licked the spoon.” He cupped her face in those big hands. Stroked his thumbs across her cheeks in a way that was both sweet and sensuous at the same time. “Does that count?”
She was definitely in favor of licking.
“Are you opposed to wearing an apron?” she asked.
“That . . .” He gently tapped her nose with his finger. “Is where I draw the line. I don’t mind getting my hands or my shirt dirty, but I put my foot down at flirting with my feminine side. If the guys ever found out, I’d never live it down.”
“Well that’s disappointing. I was looking forward to seeing whether pink or green was your color. Of course, you could always just take your shirt off.”
He grinned. “You first.”
“Ha. I can see I’m going to have to keep on my toes around you.”
“I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”
“And how is that?”
“Like I said, sweet and soft. But you’re also playful and smart . . . and . . .”
“And?”
He trailed a finger over her bare shoulder and sent shivers of anticipation up her spine. “And sexy . . .” He leaned in and kissed her again. “Very. Very. Sexy.”
“You . . .” She poked a finger in his solid chest. “Are a dangerous and tempting man, Mike Halsey. However, I do appreciate your offer and probably to your despair, I’m going to take you up on it. Maybe then I can get to bed before midnight.”
At the mention of going to bed, his eyes glittered daringly and a smile tilted those very sexy lips.
When his hands caressed down her shoulders and arms, she realized he had no problem being a touchy-feely kind of guy. She liked that. She’d always believed you could tell a man’s true sentiment by the way he looked at a woman, the way he touched her, and how often.
After her divorce from Jackson, she’d started to take a deeper look at married couples, hoping she’d find the magic key to what she and he had missed. Sadly, what she’d found was that most couples, the longer they were together, the less they touched.
She wanted something different.
She wanted a man who looked at her when she was eighty as if he was seeing her for the first time. She wanted a man who’d hold her hand for the rest of his life. Not because it was expected but because he just wanted to touch her. She wanted a man who’d have tears of happiness in his eyes when they said I Do, when they shared in the birth of their children, and when they celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary.
Was it too much to ask?
Probably.
But if she didn’t reach for the gold ring, how would she ever know?
Every time Fiona smiled up at him, Mike knew he was in deep trouble. The way she looked at him made him feel ten feet tall. He’d never had anyone look at him that way before. It scared the hell out of him. At the same time he wanted more.
Fiona was different. Instead of just weeks, he felt like he’d known her for a long time. She called out to some primal need in him that made him behave different. Feel different. He didn’t like having to hide their developing relationship, but he’d do whatever she wanted just to be with her.
Yeah. He’d turned into a total love-struck sap.
As she explained the difference between regular cupcakes and gluten-free, Mike did his very best to keep his mind on the work to be done. Not her soft curves or sweet smile. Not how great it would be to take off her clothes and explore her body. Not how she’d look wearing an apron only. For the most part, he failed.
“So, what you’re saying is that you don’t use a box of Betty Crocker to make your cupcakes?”
Her laughter rang like Christmas bells in his ears.
“My grandmother taught me how to bake,” she said. “Not once did I ever see her open anything prepackaged. Everything came from scratch and a lot of love. She would absolutely turn over in her grave if I even gave a boxed mix a passing thought.”
“Were you close with your grandmother?”
“Very.” Something they had in common. She gave a nod as she leveled the flour in the measuring cup. “Every summer, I’d go to her little house, and we’d spend hours baking or making fig jam.”
“I’ve never tasted fig jam,” he confessed.
“It’s delicious.” She closed her eyes and a look of ecstasy brightened her face. “You usually can only find it online or at farmer’s markets. And I have yet to find a single place that makes it the way she did.”
Mike watched as she cracked eggs into the commercial blender, then added several cups of sugar. While she spoke of her grandmother, the smile never left her face.
“After she died, I found a notebook she’d made just for me. It had all her best recipes and personal notes on how she looked at the world. It gave me insight to some of her deepest thoughts and her sorrow for my mother’s crazy behavior.”
Several teaspoons of vanilla went into the blender, then she opened a large container of flour.
“I just wished she would have been able to meet Izzy. They’re two of a kind. And they both saved my life in very different ways.”
“How so?”
She looked up, and their gazes held. “When my parents divorced, I had a hard time dealing with them using me as a pawn to piss the other one off. My grandmother took me in and stopped all that. She helped me through college. And she gave me the confidence to spread my wings. She died while I was attending a pastry school in France. My mother didn’t even tell me she’d passed. I’d made a habit of calling my grandmother every Sunday of the three months I was there. I didn’t find out she’d died until she didn’t answer the phone. I had to call around to find out what had happened. I was devastated. Even more so when I realized my mother had used my grandmother’s death to get back at me for abandoning her when she supposedly needed me.”
“So she even used your grandmother’s death as a part of her game?” he asked.
“Exactly. After I learned of my grandma’s death, I kind of lost control for a while. When I met Jackson, I was still very deep into party mode. Little did I know all that reveling was just a form of denial and self-destruction.”
The revelation surprised him.
When one looked at Fiona, one saw a tall, lithe, fairylike creature with sincerity in her eyes and an honest smile. Not in a million years would he ever picture her the way she described.
“So how did you two meet?”
She laughed. “He rescued me from an accident. Much like the one you rescued me from.”
The comparison tightened his gut.
“In all honesty, he did his job and went on his merry way. I pursued him. If he’d been smart, he never would have given me the time of day.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t feel that way. You two are very close.”
“We are. And I’m grateful for everything he’s ever done for me. He helped me pull my head out of my ass and get myself together. And when my irresponsibility caught up with me, and I got pregnant, he didn’t hesitate to do the right thing. Which is why I’m gen
uinely happy that he and Abby found each other again. They’re genuinely in love and were meant to be. She makes him happy. And he deserves that.”
For a moment, Mike remained speechless. He’d never heard how Jackson and Fiona had met, let alone the circumstances of their relationship or the reason for its demise. The knowledge opened a lot of windows. But he also realized that Jackson Wilder’s shoes would be hard to fill.
“I’ll bet that makes you see me in a different light,” she said. Echoes of regret shadowed those incredible eyes that usually shone bright like the bluest sky.
“It does,” he agreed.
She put down her mixing spoon. “I’ll bet it makes you want to slowly back away from the crazy lady, doesn’t it?”
He did just the opposite. “Not a chance in hell.” He reached for her, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her until they were both breathless.
Chapter 12
By early Sunday morning, the cupcakes for the Digging Divas had been delivered to the enthusiastic crowd and for the rest of the day, Fiona had nothing but time on her hands.
These days it was rare to be without Izzy–who was still at Jackson and Abby’s for the weekend–and not have something to do for the shop. Being open six days a week put a crunch on the mind and body of just one person, and Fiona realized she really couldn’t do it all on her own for an extended length of time. She’d decided to hire someone to take over the customer service in the late afternoons, while she stayed in the kitchen and prepared the products for the following day. She also could use a reprieve at least a couple of days out of the month. Some time to regenerate her energy and her creativity. What she really needed was a full-time partner, but until things were more stable, she didn’t feel comfortable asking Sabrina to give up the stability of her job at the bakery in San Antonio.
The picnic basket and container of sweet tea beside her on the passenger seat of her rental car verified that Fiona had some goof-off time available, and she planned to spend it wisely.
The little town of Comfort, only a few miles down the road from Sweet, was a haven for secondhand and antique stores, and some very good places to eat. Like Sweet, the ranching locale had become a bedroom community to those who didn’t mind a commute to either San Antonio or Austin because they wanted a better way of life for their families.
