by Sarra Cannon
The cakes are miniatures of her normal cakes, and I wonder how in the world Jo found the time to make these.
“Why don’t you pour me a glass of that wine and we can start with number one and go down the line,” I say. “Did you pick out a movie?”
“I found a couple things that look good, but after we eat all this, we might go into a sugar coma.” She laughs and pours me a tall glass of wine. She pours the rest of the bottle into her own glass, and I can tell from the way she’s giggling that she’s feeling a little bit buzzed. It’s very cute.
I take a fork from the drawer and sink it deep into the first cake. The frosting is chocolate, but the inside is a light shade of yellow. I’ve had this cake many times before, so I give the first bite to Leigh Anne. “Try this,” I say.
She takes the first bite and moans. “Oh my God, this is incredible,” she says. “Dark chocolate icing?”
“Home made,” I say, taking a bite for myself. “I think this next one is her red velvet and cream cheese icing.”
We go down the row, tasting each of the cakes. There’s strawberry cake with strawberry icing, key-lime cake with cream cheese, devil’s food cake with Jo’s signature chocolate frosting, a creamy caramel cake with matching caramel icing, coconut cake, and a white chocolate cake with raspberry ganache.
“This is an impossible task,” Leigh Anne says. She steps back and stares at the different samples. “Maybe we could have an eight-layer cake.”
I laugh. “I think that might be a little overboard,” I say. “I personally like the vanilla and the devil’s food cakes best.”
“Those are my favorite, too,” she says.
“Here, let’s take one last bite of each one and just go with your first reaction,” I say. I pull the two contenders forward and push the others back. I cut off a large chunk of the chocolate cake and pick it up with my fingers. “Cake number one.”
I hold the piece out to her and as she leans in, I smash the chocolate icing into her face. The icing smears across her lips and cheek.
“Knox,” she says, laughing. “You dirty dog.”
But she reacts quickly, grabbing a hunk of cake with her hands and smearing it across my face.
“You so don’t want to go there,” I say, laughing. I reach for the first cake I can get my hands on, the creamy caramel, and take a handful of icing. “Come over here.”
She runs to the other side of the island and screams as I chase her around the kitchen. When I finally catch up to her, I wrap my arms around her waist and turn her towards me. We’re both out of breath, and the way her eyes sparkle with happiness when she looks at me completely melts my heart.
I can’t resist this woman.
I don’t care that I have icing all over my fingers, I pull her closer and lean down to cover her lips with my own. She opens to me, her mouth tasting like chocolate and red wine.
Her hands wrap around my neck and the kiss deepens to something hungry and primal and passionate. I pull off my shirt and reach for the bottom of her tank top and slide it over her head, desperate to feel her soft skin against mine.
I grab her hips and lift her onto the island, not caring when one of the cakes falls to the floor. Leigh Anne wraps her legs around me and grinds her hips against mine.
We make love right there in the kitchen, our bodies covered in icing. In this moment, there is no one else in the world but the two of us. We don’t have to care what anyone else thinks or if anyone approves of us being together.
There is only love and passion. And as our bodies join, I realize that I’m willing to fight for that love, no matter what it takes.
Chapter Eighteen
After we make love, Knox and I take a shower together, taking our time washing the icing out of each other’s hair. My cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing so much, and I never want this night to end.
“You still up for that movie?” he asks as he dries and throws on a pair of sweatpants.
“Do I get to snuggle up next to you the whole time?”
He smiles. “Of course,” he says. “I’ll grab some firewood so we can have some romantic ambience. I’ll be right back.”
We head downstairs together, and I wrap myself in a soft blanket and lay back on the mound of pillows on the couch. My body is still tingling from our love-making, and I ache to have his skin against mine again. There is no better feeling in the world than the heat of his rough, muscular body pressed against mine.
I’m still smiling by the time he comes back. It only takes him a couple of minutes to make a fire, and when he climbs onto the couch with me, I open my blanket and pull him against me. I kiss his bare shoulder. It’s cold from being outside for a few minutes to get the firewood, so I run my hands along his skin and kiss a trail along his shoulder and neck and chest.
“You keep that up, and there’s not going to be a movie,” he says.
“Would that really be so bad?” I ask.
“You would never hear me complain,” he says. He takes me in his arms and begins kissing me again.
“I love our nights like this at home together,” I say. “You’re my favorite person in the world.”
“I’m just so glad we’ve got all day tomorrow together,” he says. “What do you want to do?”
“Besides this?” I ask with a smile.
“Well, I’d be okay with this all day,” he says. “But I’m open to whatever you want to do. We haven’t both had a day together, just the two of us, in months. How did the dress shopping go?”
I frown and the lump of guilt immediately reappears in my throat. I thought I had gotten rid of it, but I guess even the happiest of times can’t erase guilt when you’ve been trained to feel it the way I have.
“I take it wasn’t as much fun as you hoped it would be?” He tangles his fingers with mine. “What happened?”
“She was just typical Mom, I guess,” I say. I hate to ruin our perfect evening by talking about it, but I guess I’m going to have to bring this up sooner or later anyway.
“A ball of sunshine who supports you in every decision you make?” he asks.
I punch his shoulder. “You know her so well,” I say through gritted teeth. “She got there before the rest of us and already had six dresses pulled out for me. And she told them the wedding was going to be in the fall.”
He pushes back slightly, his brows cinched together. “I thought we were talking about getting married this spring,” he says. “I mean, you know I’ll do whatever you want to do, but I’d rather not have to wait a whole year to marry you.”
“I know,” I say. “I don’t want to wait, either. Besides, I had my heart set on a wedding in the spring.”
“Just tell her that,” he says.
“I did. I’ve told her a hundred times,” I say. “I don’t know why she keeps fighting me on it.”
“So, did you get a dress?” he asks. “I can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle. I know you’re going to be gorgeous.”
I frown. “No, I didn’t end up buying anything yet,” I say. I don’t want to tell him everything that happened, and I don’t want to upset our evening by talking about it.
“Take your time and find the dress you want,” he says. “I know how much you’ve been looking forward to picking out the perfect dress.”
“That’s the thing, though,” I say. “My idea of a perfect dress and Mom’s idea of my perfect dress are two entirely different things.”
“Well, that’s just too bad,” he says, tensing. “It doesn’t matter what she wants. She had a wedding of her own once. This is your day, not hers.”
I swallow, a headache starting to form.
“It’s more complicated than that,” I say. “Yes, it’s my day, but it’s something mothers dream about, too. I don’t want to ruin it for her.”
He tightens his jaw and lets out a breath. “You’ve made more than enough compromises,” he says. “We agreed to have the wedding at the church to make her happy. We’re having this big engagemen
t party at the country club coming up, even though we wanted to have it at Rob’s. What more does she want from you?”
“Don’t be mad,” I say, taking his hand in mine. “I can’t handle it if you’re upset with me, too.”
He softens and lifts my hand to kiss it. “I’m not upset with you at all,” he says. “I just want you to be happy. When I walked through that door tonight and you were looking at your magazines and daydreaming about your plans, you looked so happy, I just wanted to scoop you into my arms. But the second you started talking about your mother’s plans and feeling obligated to make her happy, your entire energy shifted.”
“I know, but what can I do? Tell her she’s not invited to my wedding? Tell her she can’t help me plan it?” I ask. The idea makes me want to throw up. “I could never do that to my mother. It would hurt her too much.”
“Look, don’t get stressed out. If you want to get married at the church, that’s fine with me,” he says. He turns toward me and puts a hand on my cheek. “We can deal with whatever compromises you want to make, but don’t let her steal the joy of this day from us, okay? You can’t live your whole life trying to make other people happy.”
I place my hand on top of his. “Thank you, baby. I’m going to try not to let it stress me out, but sometimes it’s easier to just let her have her way, you know?” I say. “It’s just with the dress, I thought it would be about what I wanted for a change.”
“Then choose the dress you want,” he says. “Your mother will survive a little disappointment for a change. Let her make a sacrifice for once. No matter what, I’ll be right here beside you. You know that, right?”
“I do,” I say, leaning in to kiss his shoulder again. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too,” he says. “And right now, I just want to wrap my body around yours and watch this romantic comedy you picked out for us.”
I laugh. He hates romantic comedies, but last time we had a movie night, he made me watch one of his military hero movies. “You said I could pick out whatever I wanted,” I say.
“That I did,” he says, pulling me closer. “But don’t get mad if I fall asleep halfway through.”
“Deal,” I say.
I lean my head on his chest and press play on the remote.
Knox is asleep in less than five minutes flat. I snuggle closer to his warmth, knowing that no matter what anyone else thinks, this is exactly where I am meant to be.
Chapter Nineteen
After a lazy morning and breakfast, Leigh Anne has decided it would be a fun idea to see if we can get inside the Monroe house to take a look at the work that needs to be done.
I told her that trying to get in so last-minute would probably be impossible, but when I called Dr. Wilson, she said she was more than happy to give us a tour and let us look around.
When we pull down the tree-lined drive an hour later, my heart skips at the sight of the grand home. It needs paint and some of the columns seem to have cracked. Several of the windows need to be replaced, and the wrought-iron railing on the upstairs balcony needs to be repaired, but none of that takes away from the majestic feel of the historic home.
“What do you think?” Susan Wilson asks as we meet her on the front steps.
“Even just the outside repairs are going to be a big job, but it’s a breathtaking property,” I say. “It’s exactly what you expect from a grand plantation home.”
“Just wait until you see the inside,” she says, her eyes sparkling.
Leigh Anne and I exchange a glance, and she squeezes my hand. I think she’s just as excited to see the inside as I am, and if there is any chance I could get accepted for the bid on this place, I’d need her help just to manage the job.
I can’t help but feel as we cross through the transom that we have just stepped into a piece of our future.
I fall immediately and passionately in love with this place. Everything from the grand staircase that rises and then splits in opposite directions to the enormous chandelier hanging above our heads grabs my heart.
With a lot of work and money, this place could be breathtaking. Hell, I’m breathless just standing here and looking at it in its current condition.
“I take it from the expression on your face and the fact that your jaw just nearly hit the floor that you love it just as much as I do?” Susan asks.
“It’s incredible. It’s important that this home gets restored to as close to its original condition as possible,” I say. “I don’t even need to see the rest to know the importance of this home.”
“But we still want to see the rest,” Leigh Anne says with a laugh. She breaks away from me and goes exploring.
I hang back with Susan. I want to know more about what exactly the historical society has in mind for this bid. I know next to nothing about submitting a proposal for something like this, and I don’t have the resources I need in place, but five seconds inside this house and I already know I have to at least give it some serious thought.
“How many companies do you expect are going to place a bid to work on this place?” I ask. My hands are already sweaty just thinking about the competition.
“We already have about six bids in, but I can tell you that one or two of them are going to be an automatic no.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because they wouldn’t do a good job in a house like this,” she says. “That might sound snobby, but we’re determined to do right by this house and stay true to the historical registry expectations.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your intention for the property once it’s been restored?” I ask.
“Good question,” she says. “Right now, the best option seems to be turning this into a historic monument and museum. We have a few other ideas about educational outreach programs we’d love to get started here on the property, but the main function of the home is going to be as a museum. We’re hoping that a great restoration will bring a lot of new tourists to the area.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” I step forward and touch the wood on the banister. It’s made of pure mahogany. Unusual for this area, but I imagine it was once the most beautiful staircase in the state of Georgia. It surely would have cost Mr. Monroe a fortune to have such a large staircase made of pure mahogany.
It won’t be the easiest wood to find in terms of replacing some of the balusters, either, but my mind is already going through a mental list of places to start searching.
“You’ve got to come see this,” Leigh Anne calls. Her face is shining. “This place is unreal.”
I walk with her toward the back of the house, and we step into the library. Books line the floor-to-ceiling shelves. A large fireplace dominates the outer wall. An antique desk takes up part of the left side of the room. Most of the furniture is covered in white sheets and every exposed surface is caked with dust, but it’s still one of the most beautiful rooms I’ve ever seen.
We take our time going through most of the first floor, and with every step, I fall deeper in love with the place.
“I’ve got to get back to town for a meeting, but you guys are welcome to stay a little while longer and look around,” Susan says. “Just make sure to lock the front door when you leave and put the lock back on the gate out front.”
“No problem.” I’m excited about getting to explore a little deeper into the house with Leigh Anne, but I’m still feeling nervous about the idea of taking on a project this big.
“I really do hope you’ll submit a proposal for this job,” Susan says. “I know I’ve said it a dozen times already, but I think you’d do this place justice.”
I don’t quite understand why she believes in me so much, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to do it. I tell Leigh Anne I’ll be right back and follow Susan out to her car.
“I’m interested, but I’m not sure I really have enough resources for something like this. I definitely don’t have the experience,” I say. “Do you honestly think I could do it?”
I clear my throat. I’m not entirely convinced Leigh Anne’s mother would vote for me, but I hope that wouldn’t be an issue.
“It wouldn’t hurt for you to have a few more jobs in your portfolio before the board makes its decision in the spring,” she says.
I nod, understanding. Between working at the restaurant, working on my own projects at the workshop, and planning the wedding, it might be hard to start picking up a lot of jobs around town, but it would be worth it.
If I won the bid, I’d also have to step down from bartending so I could dedicate all my time to this for potentially several years to come. I would need Leigh Anne at my side, managing the project and keeping everything on track. We’d have to start an official business and hire a dedicated crew.
It wouldn’t be easy, but as I look back at the house, I know in my heart that it would be worth every minute and every sacrifice.
“You coming back inside?” Leigh Anne asks as Susan drives off. “I’m dying to explore the upper floors. Come on.”
I laugh and head inside. We spend the rest of the day together, exploring the old home and talking about the possibility of working side-by-side to bring its beauty back to life.
Chapter Twenty
“You really loved that house today, didn’t you?” I ask when we get back home and settle down at the table with a pizza and a bottle of wine.
“It’s so weird, but from the moment I stepped into that house, I felt connected to it somehow,” he says. His eyes shine as he talks. “I know it’s strange to feel that way about a house I’ve never been in before, but I could see the potential, you know? I could see us working there together and really doing something big by making sure it was restored back to its original condition. I think we could really make a difference there.”
