“This looks good, but it needs something. Do you happen to have any shaved coconut and green food coloring? Just a little. Then maybe we could have a worm or two surface? What do you think?”
Ian disappeared into the pantry and came out with the needed supplies. “I think a bunch of ten-year-old boys are going to love it.”
Caty finished up the cake while Ian cleaned up the mess, only because he wouldn’t let her do the dishes. The man really was pushing for sainthood. Then he carried the pan out and secured it in the back of the car so it wouldn’t move this time.
“Ian, I can’t thank you enough. I’ll replace all the supplies we used, but that isn’t enough to repay you.”
They were standing with the driver’s door between them. Caty knew she had to leave, but she didn’t want to. Ian didn’t look to be in any big rush either. He rested one arm along the top of the doorframe, his fingers gently caressing Caty’s hand.
“Have dinner with me. Just say yes, Caty. I’ll pick you up tonight at eight.”
Of all the things she’d expected Ian O’Malley to say, that was not one of them. And since he’d blown her off last Sunday at the Barefoot Bay Bucks game, she’d kind of thought he wasn’t interested. Maybe the way to a guy’s heart wasn’t through food, but by accidentally running him over. Who knew.
“Make it seven, Doughboy, and you have a deal. After all, I’ve got muffins to deliver in the morning.”
~*~
Ian found himself whistling as he wandered into the bakery from the back door. First thing in the morning this place had been bustling with his staff. Besides him, there were two other full-time bakers, a married couple, Jose and Maria, who came in at four a.m. By the time he arrived at six, they’d already baked or prepped half of the day’s inventory. Usually by eleven it was just him and Abbey, who worked the counter until two on most days. After that, he manned the front and back alone until closing.
It was these last few hours that had become his favorite time of day, when customers were far and few and he could let his creative side loose in the kitchen. He and Chef Browning had agreed to a trial run with The Sweet Spot providing the desserts for Junonia. Ian had stuck with classic offerings, but with his own personal twists added. Tonight’s specialty would be strawberries tres leches cake, berry tiramisu, and black forest cake.
Five years ago when he won Clash of the Cupcakes, he’d never envisioned a sleepy little town on an island off the coast of Florida as his destination. Yet in the few weeks he’d been in Mimosa the place had settled on him, and it fit and felt like home. Sure the Grambling sisters hated him, but he’d rather they show their true colors than pretend.
The front bell rang as Ian pulled out the ingredients for the tiramisu. “Be right there,” he called out as he washed his hands.
Rounding the doorway he came face-to-face with Willow, the Barefoot Bay Brides foods manager, who rolled her eyes toward the woman accompanying her.
“Ian, I’m so glad you’re here. I do apologize for the impromptu visit.”
“No worries. How can I help you ladies today?” He eyed the other woman. She was the complete opposite of Willow. Where Willow was all sweet curves, blue-eyes, blonde hair, and freckles, this one was rail thin, with dark eyes and dark hair pulled into a severe ponytail. Her face was scrunched up in disgust as she looked around.
“This is Christy Carson, who just got engaged and has set a date for August of this year. She’s also selected Casa Blanca Resort as her venue. Isn’t that great?” Willow looked like a parent trying to convince a kid that shots didn’t hurt.
“Hello, Mr. O’Malley,” Christy purred. “I’ve heard so much about you and your fabulous skills.” She walked around, looked down at the display case, and wrinkled her too-perfect-to-be-real nose at him. “It’s not quite what I had expected, given your reputation.”
What the hell was the woman talking about? He’d only known the Barefoot Brides for a couple of weeks and his first cake for them was this coming weekend. Who had this Christy been talking to? He glanced Willow’s way, but she only shrugged at his questioning look.
“I’m not sure what my reputation is or who’s been filling you in, Ms. Carson, but I’ll do my best to deliver you your dream cake. Why don’t we start with you telling me what you envision?” He’d always found that if he involved the bride from the beginning they tended to be less stressed, and less demanding. Usually.
“Oh, nothing too elaborate. After all, it’s a beach wedding.” She crossed her arms and met his stare. “Five layers with individual, edible pale-pink roses—bud, partially open, and full bloom. The layers will be, starting from the bottom up: chocolate, vanilla, chocolate and vanilla marble, strawberry, and the top will be all three. Each layer will have a corresponding filling, but I’ll let you decide on those flavors, with the exception of the strawberry. That layer will have a milk chocolate filling. I want it light and fluffy. You will use only European chocolate, Mr. O’Malley.”
“Okay. Anything else?” Ian asked.
“No fondant.” She gave a little mock shudder. “Ghastly stuff. I want whipped cream frosting only.”
Ian and Willow exchanged a look. Neither said a word for a moment, just made eye contact, but it was clear she was thinking the same thing. What the fuck? Was this woman nuts or on drugs?
“I’m sorry, Ms. Carson. I think I misunderstood. When you said it would be a beach wedding, you did mean that the wedding and reception would be held outside on the beach, correct?”
“Of course. What would be the point in having a destination wedding at a place like Casa Blanca if I held my wedding inside? Don’t get me wrong. The resort is gorgeous, but have you seen the view and the grounds? It’s like paradise.”
This is where he’d have to step with caution. “I agree. However, the average temperature in August runs in the low nineties. Add on the humidity and your frosting won’t last long enough outside for you to cut the cake. Now, if you plan to utilize Junonia for the reception, then it won’t be a problem.”
“Absolutely not.” She stepped forward, her voice as cool as his walk-in fridge, her eyes blazing. “This is my wedding. I’ve dreamed of this day for years and it will be everything I’ve ever wanted. According to my dear friend, Lynsay, you are the best and can work miracles, Mr. O’Malley. So work a miracle.” As her words settled over Ian, the lady walked out.
“Ian, I’m so sorry. We’ll deal with this.” Willow shook her head. “She was decisive in the office, but nothing like that…you know, kind of crazy and a bitch. I should have listened to Ari. We’ll be in touch, but before I go. Is everything on schedule for Saturday for the Adrian/Ward wedding?”
“On schedule. I’ll be there at ten. Unless you need me earlier?”
Willow assured him that was fine and left.
“Fucking Lynsay.”
His former boss and lover. It figured she’d find a way to remind him she could still pull his strings. Or thought she could. If the Barefoot Brides took on Christy Carson as a client, Ian would tell them they’d have to find another baker. He’d dealt with plenty of brides like her before. He could handle all of her requests, but he couldn’t control the weather or change chemistry.
Even if they kept the cake indoors until right before the cutting, and air-conditioned the tent, if there was a fucking tent, the whipped cream would melt in a matter of minutes. He was pretty sure Ms. Christy Carson had not envisioned all of her pale-pink, edible roses slipping to the ground as part of her dream wedding.
Even if she changed her mind, Ian wouldn’t work with the woman. No way in hell. That had been a deal he’d made with himself when he’d made this move to Mimosa—less stress, he called the shots, he would find the joy and passion in his job again.
Maybe it was time to set up a meeting with the Barefoot Brides and recommend a new baker, period. Caty would be perfect for them. She had the skills, the passion, and the drive.
First, he’d discuss it with Caty, but not tonight.
<
br /> Tonight he had other plans and they didn’t involve business.
Chapter Five
Caty paced from her mirror to her closet, flipped a few hangers, and grabbed a different dress. “Oh, this is ridiculous,” she said aloud. “Just call him and ask, where are we going?”
She’d been so surprised by Ian’s dinner invitation, she’d forgotten to ask where. Not that it really mattered to her, except Mimosa only offered two choices: the SOB, which was totally casual. The place didn’t even have a menu or a sign. Or Junonia, which was all romance and class.
You couldn’t dress for one and go to the other without looking like a fool or being turned away.
Of course, if they went over the causeway into Naples, the sky was the limit. She had no idea why she was torturing herself this way. One simple phone call would settle the problem, except she didn’t want Ian to think she was high maintenance or that she was reading more into this date than she should.
She settled on a simple, pale-green dress with a cutaway pattern on the upper back. With the right accessories and shoes it would be perfect for Junonia or Naples, and while it might be a bit over-the-top for the SOB, she’d still look nice. The doorbell rang as she slipped on a cute pair of gold filigree earrings. She ditched the bracelet for now and headed to the front door, only to have her breath taken away.
Given their jobs and locale, their daily wardrobes consisted of pretty casual clothes: shorts, T-shirts, baker’s aprons and the like. But today was no ordinary day. Ian wore all black, which just made those baby blue eyes of his stand out all the more.
“Wow.” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it slipped past her lips as she tried to breathe.
His smile stretched across his face. “My thoughts exactly. You look amazing.”
She stepped aside and invited him into her home, and wondered for a moment if they’d even make it back out the door. Right then, if he’d suggested they skip whatever he had planned for them and stay in, she’d second the notion in a heartbeat.
Ian took a look around. “Nice place.”
“Thanks. I’m slowly making it mine. Of course, I started with the kitchen.”
Her stomach felt like she’d let her KitchenAid loose inside.
“Mind if I take a look?”
“Oh, sure. Come on back.” She led him through to her domain and stepped aside. Ian stood with his hands in his front pockets, rocking back on his heels. He gave a little nod as his gaze touched on every surface.
“For a home-based kitchen, this is great. You’ve got great natural sunlight and plenty of workspace. That’ll come in handy for bigger projects. Is that a walk-in?” He nodded to the door on the side.
“Yes. It’s big enough to hold all my daily supplies plus a wedding cake or two.”
“Is that your goal?” He turned around to face her and she’d noticed he had little stress lines at the corners of his eyes that hadn’t been there earlier in the day.
“Yes and no. I really just want a successful bakery that serves delicious desserts and makes people happy. Wedding cakes are a part of the business, so that’s fine.”
Whatever she’d said must have mattered because his shoulders dropped and his breathing leveled out. Did he even realize he’d been holding his breath, she wondered?
“It’s a good goal, Caty.” He stepped closer and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “But tonight is not about business. It’s about you and me, and getting to know each other better. I’m going to be honest here. You’re probably the last person I should be spending time with. We are competitors in a small population. A colleague has burned me before. I have problems with trust.”
“I’m sorry, Ian, and I do understand. If you’d rather cancel, I get it.” She’d hate it, but sadly she did understand. Maybe that’s what drew them together? Two souls who loved to create, but knew the pain of betrayal.
“No, that’s just it. I know I should keep my distance, but I don’t want to.”
Ian’s declaration had pretty much stunned her into silence for the majority of the ride from her house to Junonia. Not that it was a long ride as the entire key was only twelve miles long. The hostess sat them right away at a table out of the way, overlooking the beach. Candlelight and soft music set the mood. Or maybe it was the company. They each put in their drink orders, a Malibu Bay Breeze for her and Merlot wine for Ian.
“I’ve never been here before,” Caty said.
“Then I’m glad I picked this place over the SOB.” Ian grinned. “Although I hear they have killer tacos and that’s the place to go to escape the tourists.”
Caty laughed because she doubted the tourists could find the SOB. Even if they did, they probably wouldn’t be brave enough to enter. Saying the place look a bit sketchy might be being too nice. “Maybe I’ll take you sometime. Introduce you to the real locals.”
“As opposed to the fake ones?” he asked, his smile lighting up the night.
“My great-grandpa would call you all upstarts.”
“I take it he was one of the founding settlers of Mimosa Key?”
“Along with Lacey Armstrong’s family and several others still here. A lot of the younger generation has left because, as you’ve seen, there isn’t a lot to do here, nor are there a lot of jobs. But the place is getting a second chance with all the new busine— oops.”
“What?”
She ducked her head and looked around. “I almost said the bad word. You know, the one that starts with a B,” she whispered.
Ian’s brows drew in tight, then released as he let out a deep, booming laugh. “Good save. Yep, we’ll not be talking the B-word tonight. Instead I want to know all about Caty out of the kitchen.”
“You might want to order an espresso so you don’t fall asleep before the main course arrives then.” Glancing out the window, she caught sight of a hot-air balloon. Its zigzag rainbow pattern slowly turned as it drifted free as a bird on the air current. She directed Ian’s attention to it. “Okay, for starters. That’s on my bucket list, but I’m terrified of heights.”
Ian watched the balloon for several long moments before turning back to her. “That tells me you’re determined and goal oriented, and maybe a little crazy. I like it. What else?”
“The usual stuff. A girl from a small town, got bored, couldn’t wait to get away after school, but learned there’s no place like home. So I came back. Mom and Dad are off traveling the country. Happy as can be. No siblings. Extended family in Nevada. I love chocolate and long walks on the beach.” And she’d already had her heart broken and wasn’t sure she was ready to put herself out there again just yet, but if she was… Sigh. Temptation sat across the table from her.
“Okay, my turn. A bucket list item? Go to Ireland and kiss the Blarney Stone,” Ian gave a pretty good Irish accent.
“I’ve heard the local teens pee on the stone at night. Are you sure you want to put your mouth there?”
“Eww. Maybe I’ll just stick with visiting the castle and then heading up to County Mayo and seeing where the O’Malley clan hailed from. While my grandfather called America home, I know he missed Ireland.”
While waiting for their main courses they talked about what life was like growing up in Connecticut for Ian and his family—way too cold for her!—interests, pets, favorite movies, music, and the rest of the usual stuff. They laughed and she’d felt her cheeks flame more than once. Ian’s eyes never left her. His gaze didn’t stray around the restaurant or flirt with their very young and pretty waitress. He didn’t check his watch, or phone, or even stare out the window at what she knew to be a stunning sunset.
It was as if his world began and ended with her and there was nothing in between but them.
It was a little disconcerting. He noticed everything, like when she got nervous and kept brushing the hair away from her face, and he gently tucked it behind her ear. Or the way he smiled, with his lopsided dimple, as the heat raced up her cheeks when he teased her and then apologized. But the gle
am in his eye told her he wasn’t sorry. He enjoyed every minute of tormenting her…sweet torture that it was.
The waitress dropped off their entrees and refilled their water glasses. Ian thanked her, but barely even looked the girl’s way. He held up his glass.
“To a beautiful sunset shared with a pretty lass whose smile could light up the darkest night.”
“Did your parents send you to charm school, Ian?”
“Nah, I’m Irish. It comes naturally.” His eyes twinkled, as she laughed and they both dug into their dinners. They’d each selected the swordfish, lightly breaded in panko and sautéed in a butter-lemon sauce.
“I have to ask you something.” She hadn’t been back long, but Mimosa was small and there was nothing Charity Grambling loved more than giving people shit—except gossiping. At Ian’s nod, she bit down on her lip, unsure how to ask but deciding to go for it. “Is your grandmother’s house…haunted?”
Ian laughed. “That’s not what I was expecting.”
She sat up straight. “What were you expecting?”
“Nothing.” At her quizzical look, he sighed. “Okay, okay. I thought it was going to be about Nikki Charles, the actress, and the pictures of the two of us circulating the Internet.”
“Whoa, Doughboy. You don’t get to drop that kind of info and think you don’t have to explain it to me when we’re on a date. So spill.” Holy snickerdoodles. Nikki Charles? Please don’t her be my competition, because I was starting to like the taste of temptation.
“She’s just an old friend from when I first moved to LA. Right before I moved here, Nikki gave me a call and we met up to discuss her niece’s birthday. Some dirtbag paparazzi saw us. Not sure why, but he didn’t release the photos until this afternoon. Shay called me so I figured you’d heard too.”
“Nope, but good to know. So she’s just a friend?”
“Just a friend.”
She just might have to look those pictures up when she got home, just to be sure. After all, she’d heard that story before.
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