by Debbie Mason
“Two words, Skye. ‘Minimum wage.’ You can’t support yourself on that. How are you going to live on… Oh.”
Skye had sensed she’d overstayed her welcome, but that didn’t stop the small pinch of hurt at the oh-crap look in her best friend’s eyes. “Don’t worry, I should have enough to buy a tent next paycheck, and I found a perfect spot at the campgrounds. I’ll be out of your hair in a few days.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re staying with us or we’ll find you an apartment. I’ll help out with your rent until you get on your feet. Have you thought about calling your dad? I’m sure—”
“I’m not calling my dad to ask for a handout. And while I appreciate the offer, I’m not taking one from you, either. I’m twenty-eight years old and fully capable of taking care of myself. Despite what some people seem to think.”
“I never said…” Maddie trailed off when Skye arched a brow at her. “No, I didn’t. I may have said you’re a little gullible and overly generous, but I never said you had to grow up.”
“I said take care of myself, not grow up. It’s good to know how you really feel,” Skye said, and began tidying up the mess she’d made earlier, picking up the mixing bowls from the prep table to put them in the sink.
Maddie reached for her hand. “I love you. I’m worried about you.”
Skye sighed, setting the bowls on the table. “I love you, too. But I’m going to be fine.”
“Sit down.” Maddie pushed a stool toward Skye with her foot. “We need a plan. I have contacts in New York.”
“No. Christmas is perfect for me. Cost of living isn’t high, it’s beautiful and mostly pollution-free. Plus, you’re here, and I can help out when the baby comes.” All true, and one of the biggest selling features: Scary Guy didn’t live there. Ethan did, though. But for the next several months he’d be on the road campaigning. And since the man was GQ handsome, smooth, and debonair—not to mention smart—she had no doubt he’d win the election and spend most of his time commuting between Denver and Washington.
“I like having you here, too. But even in Christmas, seven dollars and sixty-eight cents an hour isn’t enough for you to live on.”
“Eight. Grace is paying me eight dollars an hour, and I told her I can work more than forty if she needs me to.” Skye barely managed to stifle a groan when Maddie took a pen and pad of paper from her purse and began jotting down numbers.
“How many hours a week are you averaging?”
“Twenty,” Skye mumbled, making it sound more like thirty. Maddie scribbled something on the paper. Given that even thirty hours probably wouldn’t impress Maddie, Skye added, “Business has really picked up. I’m sure Grace will increase my hours any day now.”
“She’s using all her extra funds to hire another baker. Jack doesn’t want her putting in as many hours as she has been.”
Well, there goes that, Skye thought, but she didn’t blame Jack. Grace worked harder than anyone she knew. Taking note of the twitch in her best friend’s left eye, Skye realized she had to put a positive spin on the situation or she’d be subjected to a twenty-minute fiscal-responsibility lecture. And since that lecture would undoubtedly depress Skye further, she blurted, “My blog. I’ll start charging people to advertise.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Maddie said, but kept on writing, a frown furrowing her brow.
Skye glanced at the budget, and her still-queasy stomach got queasier. She’d done a budget of her own, and it hadn’t looked half as bad as Maddie’s. “Are you sure you didn’t miscalculate…” She trailed off when Maddie gave her the look. “Right, but I don’t need health insurance. I’m young and healthy. And I’m serious about camping out. So if you get rid of those expenses, I’m back in the black.” When her best friend opened her mouth, no doubt to refute Skye’s perfectly valid points, she added, “And you’re totally ignoring the income I can generate from my blog. I had close to fifty thousand followers last time I checked. You probably don’t know this, but there are bloggers who are making six figures a month. All I have—”
“Are you making money from your blog? Any money at all?”
“Well, no, but I haven’t—”
And she was off. Skye propped her face in her hands, half-listening to Maddie while mentally going over a list of influential bloggers she could get in touch with. Because no matter Maddie’s success-to-failure ratios, Skye latched on to that tiny nugget of hope like an environmentalist hugging a tree.
Twenty minutes later, Maddie stopped lecturing long enough to say hello to Grace, who’d come through the swinging doors, jarring Skye out of her transcendental state. Skye was good at tuning people out. It was how she survived living under her father’s dictatorial thumb for all those years.
Grace, a classic blonde beauty who wore a white feminine sundress, couldn’t hide her dismay at the state of her kitchen. Skye loved her boss, but the woman was a cleanaholic and a perfectionist. Over the last couple of weeks, Skye had been working with Grace on her issues.
Grace took a calming breath and smiled. Progress, Skye thought with a sense of satisfaction. “Don’t worry, Grace. I’ll have the kitchen spic-and-span in no time.” After all, Skye had been the one to make the mess icing the sugar plum cake.
“No, you relax and let me do it.” Grace gave Skye’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “I heard you were sick. Are you feeling any better?”
She should’ve known how fast word of the embarrassing episode would spread in the small town. “Better now. Thanks.”
Grace cast her a worried look. “That’s the third time you’ve been sick this week, Skye. Maybe you should make an appointment with Dr. McBride.”
At least it wasn’t as often as the week before. “I—”
“And why is this the first I’ve heard about it?” Maddie asked, a hurt expression on her face.
“Because it’s not a big deal. It’s probably just the flu.” More like cupcake overload.
“You have been awfully tired. She fell asleep decorating the cupcakes yesterday,” Grace confided to Maddie.
“I did not. I—”
Maddie laughed. “You sound like…” Her laughter faltered, and her eyes widened. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
“No.” Skye snorted. “Unless it’s an immaculate conception. I haven’t had sex in over a…” She trailed off. She’d been about to say a year, but it wasn’t a year. It was three months ago. With Ethan.
Not surprisingly, she’d been trying to put that night out of her head. But there was no way she could be pregnant. They’d used protection each and every time. She had had the condoms for a while… Surely she hadn’t had them that long.
She didn’t like the calculating look in Maddie’s eyes or the speculative one in Grace’s. Skye needed to think of something fast. “I had my period last week,” she blurted, at the same time trying to recall how long it had actually been. She fought to keep her expression neutral when she realized her last period had been two weeks before Maddie’s wedding.
Her breath came in short, shallow puffs. Stress, it was just the stress. She filled her lungs to prevent hyperventilating. Yes, that was it exactly. The stress. Her breathing evened out. Lots of people missed periods due to stress. And no way would the universe pull a cosmic joke of this proportion on her. As if she could be pregnant by the Republican Party’s poster boy. The Fates wouldn’t be that cruel. Thinking back to the last few months, she realized, yes, they darn well could. She jumped off the stool. She had get to Maddie’s and check the expiration date on the condom box.
“You know, I probably should go home and change,” she said, and headed for the swinging doors.
Grace’s voice stopped her cold. “You can’t. You’re scheduled to read the Sugar Plum Cake Fairy story in the park.”
Skye counted to ten before slowly turning around. “I thought we’d canceled the reading. The book wasn’t supposed to be here in time.”
“We got them to do a rush order. Isn’t that great?” Grace smiled and reac
hed for a box under the prep table.
Maddie leaned over to help Grace and held up a book. “Aw, look how cute you are.”
Skye’s anxiety took a backseat to her excitement over finally getting to see the finished product. She walked over and took the book from Maddie. “I am, aren’t I?” She grinned.
They’d been working on the book for a while now. Grace had done the illustrations, and Skye had been responsible for editing the story her best friend, Vivian Westfield, had written. Since Vivi had been going through a man-hating phase while writing the story, Skye’d had her work cut out for her. She wanted the Sugar Plum Cake Fairy to have a happy ending after all. And Vivi kept killing off the prince.
Skye flipped through the pages, captivated by the pastel watercolor images. “Grace, your illustrations are amazing.”
“Skye’s right, Grace. You outdid yourself. I was pretty sure we’d make a fortune off merchandizing the Cake Fairy, but now I’m positive.”
Too bad Skye wasn’t going to share in their good fortune. But she was happy for Maddie and Grace. Until she flipped to the page that introduced the Sugar Plum Cake Fairy’s prince. It took a moment for her to regain her power of speech. “Grace, I told you I wanted my Prince Charming to have dark hair and dark eyes. Not this. I did not want him to look like this.” She stabbed her finger into the tawny-haired prince’s obnoxiously gorgeous face. “Ethan O’Connor is not my Prince Charming.”
Chapter Three
Nice look,” Gage McBride said, eyeing the crown on Ethan’s head with a grin. “Lucky for you, Harlan had the stomach flu.”
Ethan wasn’t feeling so lucky. He’d won the hamburger-eating contest. If he would’ve known the prize was a crown, he wouldn’t have tried so hard. But Gage had been chowing down beside him, egging him on. He raised his hand to remove the crown.
“Not yet. We don’t want to offend anyone.” Claudia angled her chin at the crowd gathered around the stage. “I’ll be right back.” She smiled, then headed in his mother’s direction.
“Shut up,” Ethan said under his breath to his laughing best friend. “I should’ve let you win.” He lowered his hand, feeling some sympathy for Skye.
Then again, she probably loved wearing a crown. She was twenty-eight going on twelve. She was one of the most uninhibited, fun-loving women he’d ever met. She inhaled life: sailing through it with all the ease of a trust-fund baby. Which was probably why she drove him nuts. And not in a I-can’t-keep-my-hands-off-her kind of way. Claudia was right. They had nothing in common. He needed to remember that the next time Skye was within ten feet of him.
“Yeah, right, you hate to lose,” Gage said.
“Says the guy who tripped me so he could win the hundred-yard dash in sixth grade.” Ethan wasn’t a sore loser. He just didn’t believe in doing anything half-assed. Whether it was winning a hamburger-eating contest, going after a conviction in his previous job as assistant district attorney, or going after the seat in the state senate. When he set his sights on something, he gave it his all.
“Yeah, and you’re the one—” Gage broke off at the sight of his nine-year-old daughter, Lily, bounding up the stage steps with a candy apple in her hand. Her older sister, Annie, followed behind.
Gage smiled at his daughters. “You girls having fun?”
“Yeah,” Lily said, bouncing up and down.
Annie rolled her eyes. “She’s had too much sugar again, Dad.”
Ethan grinned. “Hey, I’ve been out of town for a few weeks and you two forget about me? Where’s my hug?” He loved his best friend’s kids. Annie and Lily were great. And Gage was one hell of a father. He’d pretty much raised the girls on his own. It hadn’t always been easy, and Ethan was glad Gage now had Madison in his life. He envied him. At thirty-six, Ethan wanted what his best friend had: a wife and family.
Annie gave him a one-armed hug. “Like the crown, Uncle Eth. Is that what all the candidates are wearing these days, or just the Republicans?”
He blinked at what sounded like sarcasm in her thirteen-year-old voice. Taking in her innocent expression, he figured he’d heard her wrong.
“Annie,” Gage said in a warning tone.
Not so innocent after all. And Ethan had a good idea who was behind the attitude.
“I like your crown, too, Uncle Ethan. You look like a prince. Can Daddy have one?” Lily asked, wrapping her arms around Ethan’s waist.
“Sure,” he said, tweaking her ponytail. “He can have mine.”
Gage gave him an in-your-dreams look. “Uncle Ethan won the hamburger-eating contest fair and square. The crown’s his.”
Annie crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at Ethan while Lily drew back to give him a disappointed look. “You shouldn’t eat burgers. They make them out of someone’s mommy and daddy.”
Skylar Davis strikes again. The damn woman was going to turn Lily and Annie against him. He tried to think of something to say. Thankfully, Gage intervened, “Have you guys seen your mother?”
“She’s at the bakery,” Lily said, lifting Ethan’s arm to look at his watch. “Annie, we gotta go. Auntie Skye’s reading the Sugar Plum Cake Fairy story at four. I wanna get a good seat.”
Ethan thought about going with her. He had a bone to pick with the Sugar Plum Cake Fairy.
“Aw, Dad, do I have to?” Annie said.
Before Gage could respond, Ethan’s mother came over to say hello to the girls. Liz O’Connor was Lily and Annie’s honorary grandmother. She’d been Gage’s mother’s best friend. Anna McBride had died of breast cancer nine years ago. Five years later, Ethan’s father suffered a fatal heart attack. Neither Gage nor Ethan liked the idea of their parents spending the rest of their lives alone and had been trying, unsuccessfully, to get them together. It was obvious they liked one another, but neither one would act on their feelings.
“I swear you two have grown a couple of inches since I saw you last,” his mother said, giving the girls a hug. “It won’t be long before you have a new baby brother or sister. Are you getting excited?”
Annie shrugged as if she couldn’t have cared less, but the hint of a smile gave her away.
Lily nodded enthusiastically. “We want a baby sister, right, Annie?”
“Hey, I’m outnumbered as it is,” Gage protested.
Ethan’s mother patted Gage’s arm. “You don’t fool me. You love having a house full of girls to wait on you.”
Gage snorted. “You have met my wife, haven’t you?” Looking down at Lily, who was dancing in front of him, he said, “Okay, I’ll meet you over there.”
Liz smiled as Lily dragged a protesting Annie off the stage, then returned her attention to Gage. “You’re a lucky man, and you know it. If I could find someone half as wonderful as Madison for my son, I’d be a happy woman. I need some grandbabies of my own to spoil. But from the looks of it, that’s not going to happen anytime soon.”
Ethan didn’t miss the assessing glance his mother sent in Claudia’s direction. She’d been touting his campaign manager’s wifely attributes at an annoying frequency. Ethan couldn’t deny that Claudia was a beautiful woman and would be an asset to a man holding political office, but he wasn’t attracted to her. Considering the woman he was attracted to, maybe he needed to rethink that.
“You have two daughters. Get on Chloe’s and Cat’s cases,” Ethan told his mother, whose long-suffering expression made it clear she thought he was her only hope. It was possible she had a point.
Chloe was an actress who lived in LA, and the only man she was interested in was a golden statue named Oscar. Last year, it’d looked like Cat, a police officer with the Denver PD, might be the one to make his mother’s dream come true. Until his sister found out that her fiancé was running a Ponzi scheme right under her nose. Cat lost not only the man of her dreams but her job. She now worked in LA as her twin sister’s bodyguard. And while Ethan loved Cat and Chloe, he wasn’t exactly disappointed they lived a thousand miles away. He’d had enough of their drama growing up,
especially Chloe’s. But there were times, like now, when he wouldn’t have minded having them around to take the heat off him.
“You’re the oldest. It’s up to you to set an example.” His mother straightened his crown and sighed. “Look how handsome you are. I don’t understand why someone hasn’t snapped you up yet.”
“What I look like, Mom, is an idiot.” He scowled at his best friend, who he knew was silently laughing his ass off. Once again, Ethan went to remove the crown.
Claudia, who chose that moment to rejoin them, stopped him. “Ten more minutes.” Her smile turned into a frown as she moved his arm and leaned back. “That little girl ruined your jacket. She got candy apple all over you.”
Gage winced. “Sorry about that, Eth.”
“It’s not a big deal,” he said, and wasn’t happy Claudia was making one out of it. She had to know Lily was Gage’s daughter. Then again, it was possible she didn’t. Unless someone was of voting age, they didn’t appear on her radar. Ethan was more than happy to get rid of his jacket. He hadn’t wanted to wear a suit, but Claudia insisted. He took the jacket off, rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, and decided to lose the tie as well.
“No. Leave it on.” Claudia stilled his hand with hers, then took the jacket. “I’ll get the stain out.”
“I’ll help,” his mother offered.
“Your mom and Claudia get along well,” Gage said as the two women left the stage.
“Too well, if you ask me.”
“Liz has her pegged for the front-runner in her campaign to find Mrs. O’Connor, does she?”
“Was it that obvious?”
“Not to anyone who doesn’t know Liz.” Gage cocked his head. “Are you interested? She’s beautiful. And with her connections and political savvy, she’d make a great politician’s wife.”
“You sound like my mother.” And like his old boss, Jordan Reinhart, who’d been the one to put Ethan’s name into the race. Only Jordan had touted his daughter Sam’s good-wife attributes. Ethan had dated Sam five years ago, but their relationship ended when he’d left his job as assistant district attorney and moved back home. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I need a break.”
