The Bakeshop at Pumpkin and Spice

by Donna Kauffman

  Which left her with plenty of time to prepare for her favorite holiday. She dropped to a squat and peeled the lid off the bin she’d brought out. This was the last batch of Halloween decorations in her house, and the pouncing spider just had to be in it. Orange lights, black lights, another fog machine . . . Aha! She tugged the box free and held it up in triumph. One battery-operated, pouncing spider with glowing red eyes. Perfect.

  A knock sounded at the door. Cassie stood and shuffled through her entry, trying to cut with her thumb nail the tape she’d used to secure the box last year. “Just a minute, Jack,” she called out. She hissed in a breath. Damn it. Cardboard cut. Ten times worse than a paper cut. Cradling the box to her chest in one arm, she sucked on her thumb and pulled the door open.

  A man’s back greeted her. He turned. “Ms. Hey—you!”

  The box slipped, and Cassie juggled it before wrangling it tight to her body. Her stomach twisted like she’d eaten three-day-old guacamole. She swallowed, gaping at one Chip Gneiss standing on her doorstep as if he were her latest package from the Halloween superstore. A squinty-eyed, growling package in a blue flannel shirt that under normal circumstances she would refuse delivery on. But if he looked as angry as a bear who’d just had his honeypot stolen, he had a right to it.

  She met his glittering emerald eyes and swallowed. “You’re not my usual handyman, Jack.”

  “And you’re not a”—he looked down at his phone—“Ms. Heyer.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared.

  “No.” She shifted the box to her hip. “When I first called to hire someone from the Handyman Network, the guy on the phone got my name wrong. I’ve never corrected it.”

  “Perfect. Yet another reason I regret joining that association. I prefer dealing with my own clients, people I can vet.” Nostrils flaring, he glanced over his shoulder to the large pickup truck parked at the curb.

  “Wait.” She shot her hand out and grabbed his arm. Her box fell, hit the doorframe, and rolled onto the porch. She ignored it. “Whatever reason you’re here instead of Jack, I’m glad of it.” Well, glad might not be the right word. Facing someone you’d acted like an ass to was never easy. But it was necessary. “I need to apologize for yesterday. I can’t even imagine how horrible I sounded to you, and there was no excuse for what I said.”

  “You’re just sorry I overhead.” A muscle ticked next to his left eye. Those eyes had been soft yesterday, looking friendly and open when he’d asked her out. Today was a different story, and an ache spread through her chest at the change.

  “I’m sorry for both, that I said it, that you had to hear it, that I became that person, even for a moment.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “I’m usually not like that. But sometimes Sam—someone makes me crazy and I act like a bitchy teenager. Please.” She squeezed his arm, trying to ignore the flex of the muscle under the soft flannel. She wasn’t attracted to big muscles. Not anymore. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to do this job, but please accept my apology.”

  She waited, not breathing.

  The muscles beneath her fingers loosened, and Chip gave a terse nod. Really more of a head bob, but Cassie would take it.

  She clapped her hands together. “Great!”

  Chip bent over and picked up her box. He eyeballed the picture of the spider on the side before handing it over to her. “Jack broke his ankle this morning. The service asked if I could take the job instead.”

  “And?” She hugged the box. “Will you take the job?”

  He blew out his cheeks and looked at the sky. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah, the work order was a little skimpy on details, though. What do you need done?”

  “Great,” she repeated. They stared at each other for an awkward moment before Cassie remembered her manners. “Please, come in and we’ll discuss it.” She led him down the hall into her kitchen and set the box on the counter. Opening her freezer, she pulled out an ice cube tray. “Do you want any coffee?” she called over her shoulder.

  “Sure.”

  After turning the oven on and pulling a cookie sheet out from a cabinet, she retrieved her mug from the sink, got a fresh one, and poured them each a cup from her half-full coffeepot. “Cream? Sugar?”

  “No, thanks.”

  She placed the mug in front of him, then picked up her ice cube tray. She flipped it over onto the baking sheet and spread the wedges of dough about evenly.

  “Uh, you keep cookie dough frozen in ice cube trays?” He tapped his thumb on the rim of his mug.

  “Yes, for emergencies.” She slid the tray into the oven and shut the door.

  “Cookie emergencies?”

  Leaning back against the counter, Cassie picked up her own mug, holding it between both hands, enjoying the warmth. She gave him a small smile. “More the I-need-work-done-pronto-but-have-insulted-the-handyman kind of emergency.”

  The skin around his eyes crinkled. “Well, since I’ll be the beneficiary, I applaud your creativity.” He took a sip of coffee. “So, tell me about the job.”

  “I’m having a haunted house on my driveway and I need help building it. Along with the frame for the walls, I’ll need a pulley system installed, and maybe a pergola built in front of the garage.”

  “A haunted house?” He cocked his hip onto a stool behind her kitchen island and wrinkled his nose.

  “Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who doesn’t like Halloween.” She pinned him with a look. “Because our working relationship would have to come to an end right here.”

  One corner of his mouth curled up. “I live in Moonbright, Maine, where Halloween is the biggest event of the year. Of course, I like the holiday.”

  “Have you lived here your whole life?” She took a sip of coffee, winced, and reached for her sugar bowl.

  Chip nodded.

  “Lucky.” Her spoon clinked around the rim of her mug. “I’m from Massachusetts, but I heard about the parade the town has every Halloween and came up to see it last year. I bought this house three months later.”

  “Because of Halloween?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “Well, I found a good job here, too.” But mainly it had been the fact that Moonbright was basically Halloweentown. These were her peeps, right down to the competitive bobbing for apples and impromptu pumpkin races. She rolled onto her toes. “But I can’t wait for this Halloween. I’ve been designing this haunted house ever since I moved in.”

  Chip pulled a small notepad from his back pocket. He laid it on the island and uncapped a pen. “There’s not that much space on your driveway. How big is this thing going to be?”

  “Are you kidding? This driveway is twice the size of my old one.” She leaned across the island and dragged his notepad in front of her. She held out her hand, palm up, and he dropped the pen on it. Turning to a fresh page, she sketched out a rough plan. “It’s all about utilizing the space you have. The haunted house will be more of a maze really. When you wind the corridors tight and keep sharp corners, you have a lot of room for monsters to jump out at unsuspecting victims.” Flipping the pad around to face him, she shoved it in his direction.

  His lips twitched. “Why don’t we go outside and you show me what you’re thinking.” He rose from the stool and downed his coffee.

  “Okay, but it’s all right there.” Putting the mugs in the sink, Cassie circled the island and stopped in front of him. The scent of cut wood and musk drifted off Chip, and Cassie’s breath quickened.

  “Darling, I don’t know what that chicken-scratch is supposed to represent, but it isn’t a plan of any sort that I recognize.” The endearment rolled off his tongue, as sweet as honey. Something about it made her knees go the littlest bit weak.

  Which was something she couldn’t have, so she focused on the insult to her sketching skills instead. “Jack never has a problem understanding my diagrams,” she said, and sniffed.

  Chip threw his head back and laughed, the relaxed, happy expression on his face doing nothing to help her knees. Her fingers
itched to stroke the dimple that appeared in his right cheek when he smiled.

  Stupid fingers. They should know better. A cute face and a laid-back attitude had never brought her anything but trouble.

  At least his forgiveness seemed genuine. No one could laugh that hard and still be mad. Chip tucked the notebook back into his pocket. “Whatever you say.”

  She led him to her front door and pulled it open. She looked back and frowned when she saw Chip frozen by the kitchen entrance. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I didn’t know you had a cat. It startled me when it ran into the kitchen. Crossing my path,” he muttered.

  “Don’t worry about Jinx. If you leave her alone, she’ll leave you alone.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “You have a black cat and you named her Jinx.”

  Cassie shrugged. “What can I say? I like to tempt fate. Now, should we go outside?” Not waiting for an answer, she stepped onto her porch. Even though the sun was bright, the air held a chill.

  She wrapped her arms around her middle and headed for her driveway, heard Chip’s footsteps falling behind her.

  That lie had slipped easily past her lips. She used to tempt fate. Act impulsively. Follow the first man who made her stomach flip. But she’d learned her lesson. Broken the pattern.

  Chip stepped next to her and pulled out a measuring tape. He offered her one end and, when she took it, walked across the driveway to measure the distance. He scribbled in his notebook, then sauntered back to her, his long legs eating the distance in a couple of steps.

  Cassie looked away from his thighs. Nope. Nada. Nuh-uh. Chip seemed like a nice man. Sweet even. But not for her. She’d decided on Samuel, made a list of all the reasons why he was perfect for her, and she was sticking to it.

  She focused on the work, pointing out what she wanted installed and where. When they were done, he whistled, long and low. “This is going to be some setup. Are you charging for admission?”

  “No.” Cassie squeezed her hands together, visualizing the screaming, the excitement. A grin crossed her face. “But some of the local high school kids are going to help me run it. You know, be the monster that grabs you and such. There will be a donation jar and any money we get will go to their football team.”

  Chip glanced at her from the side of his eye. “How long have you been doing these?”

  “This will be my eighth.” And her best. She only wished . . .

  “How did you get so into Halloween?” he asked. “I mean, this town is Halloween-crazy, but having your own personal haunted house is taking it to another level.”

  “My grandfather.” Cassie’s throat went thick, and she swallowed past the pain. “After his stroke he came to live with us. He was the biggest Halloween fanatic you’ll ever find. He loved decorating the house, trying to scare the trick-or-treaters. I think it made him feel useful after his capabilities diminished, that he was contributing something to make people happy.” Her heart squeezed. “Every other day he thought he was a burden on us.”

  “Is he still . . .”

  She cleared her throat. “No, he passed six years ago.”

  He laid his hand on her arm and squeezed. Heat passed from his palm through her shirt and warmed her whole body through. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.” Her shoulders curled and she wrapped her arms around her middle. “I know this year’s mansion is going to be my best yet. I just wish he could have seen it.”

  Chip offered a deep sigh. He lifted his hand and slid his arm around her shoulders, going in for a side hug.

  Cassie went stiff. Before she could decide if a hug from a purely platonic male who just happened to smell as delicious as a cedar wood fire was something she wanted, he stepped away, his arm falling to his side.

  “Well.” He ran his hand up the back of his head, mussing his hair. “I guess I should start adding up the supplies I’ll need. Let’s go back to your kitchen and I’ll come up with an estimate.”

  “Sure.” Cassie slapped her palm to her forehead. “Oh, crap, the cookies!” Spinning, she sprinted for the porch and raced through the door. The house smelled of sugar and chocolate. She pulled open the oven door and sighed in relief. Perfectly browned around the edges.

  Finding an oven mitt, she pulled out the tray as Chip took his stool. Without waiting for them to cool, she plated five cookies and placed them on the island. “Get ’em while they’re hot.”

  “Thanks.” Chip picked one up and juggled it on his fingers before blowing on it.

  “More coffee? Milk?”

  He stared at her a moment before a slow smile stretched across his face.

  Her breath caught. Samuel’s smile was just as sexy, she reminded herself. Maybe.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “You.” He opened his mouth and brought the cookie to his tongue. She followed each movement as he took a bite, chewed languidly, and swallowed. “Yesterday you were pissed when I ate your cookie, now you’re plying me with them. You really do feel guilty.”

  Cassie didn’t know how she should respond to that, so she decided to ignore the comment. “So,” she said briskly, “what do you think it’s going to run me?”

  He flipped open his notebook and made a list. A column of numbers trailed along the right-hand side, growing larger and larger. After totaling it, he spun it around to show her the figure. “For labor and supplies.”

  “Okay.” That was doable. “When can you get started?”

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  “And you can get it done four days before Halloween? I want it to run for three nights.”

  He drew his eyebrows together. “It’s not going to be open on Halloween?”

  “I can’t compete with the parade and festivities downtown,” she told him. “And I wouldn’t want to. I’m going to be there myself.”

  “Fair enough.” He cocked his head. “Are you going in costume? Maybe a sexy witch?”

  “No.”

  “Sexy nurse?”

  “Sexy nothing.” She crossed her arms. Really, she hated that trend of sexing up a holiday that should be for children, of all ages.

  He held his hands up, palms out, and chuckled. “Okay, I guess I’ll have to wait and see.”

  “Do you think you’ll be able to set up the pulley system? I want it for the exit of the maze. When people finally escape and think it’s over, then bam! The bats swoop around their heads and attack.”

  His lips twitched. “The pulley system shouldn’t be a problem. It will be like the cameras at football games, but on a much smaller scale.” He broke open another cookie, trails of melted chocolate stretching from both ends. “Do you bake a lot?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you well satisfied while you’re working here.”

  His shoulders tensed.

  That hadn’t come out the way she’d meant it to. Her cheeks flared with heat. “I mean—”

  “I know.” He shifted his weight on the stool. “But I wasn’t asking about my snacking times. I was just wondering if your house always smells like this. That could explain it,” he muttered to himself.

  “Explain what?”

  He locked his gaze on her, the color of his eyes darkening to a forest after a rain. “You. You smell like the most delicious cookie I’ve never had. Sweet with a little bit of spice. Absolutely mouthwatering.”

  Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. He sounded like a starved man ordering a juicy steak. Never had a man looked at her with such appreciation, and her skin tingled in response.

  She frowned. Just because her body was finally getting some male attention didn’t mean it had to fire up its rockets and prepare to launch. Samuel’s attention might take longer to get, but it would be worth the wait. He was the man she wanted.

  “No.” She clenched her fist. She wasn’t going down this road again. She was finally making smart choices for her life. She wouldn’t become her moth�
��She grabbed a sponge from the sink and scoured the counter, cutting off that train of thought.

  A frown line appeared between his eyebrows. “No, what?”

  “Uh, no, I’m not always baking,” she covered. She tossed the sponge back down. Damn it, was this going to get weird again? Him asking her out around every corner of the haunted mansion?

  She tossed him a bright smile. “But it’s nice to know baking cookies is a scent that men appreciate. Instead of bringing my man a box of cookies, next time I’ll just dab some vanilla extract behind my ears.”

  A muscle tensed in Chip’s jaw. “Right. The man who hasn’t shown any interest in you. I almost forgot about him.”

  “That’s not true. He just likes to take things slowly.” It was completely true. But she wasn’t giving up hope. Samuel was her perfect match. She only had to make him see that.

  “Uh-huh.” Chip turned the cookie plate in a circle with his finger. “So, tell me about this guy. The one who’s slow to interest yet good enough for you to wait around for. He’s someone who can count higher than eight, I’m guessing.”

  Eight? She opened her mouth to ask, and then it hit her. Two by four. Two times four. She grimaced. His forgiveness unfortunately hadn’t come along with forgetting. “Yes, he’s extremely smart.”

  “Good looking?”

  Cassie pursed her lips. Samuel was all long lines and toned muscles. Elegant manners and fine features. Nothing like Chip’s blunt good looks. Both had their place. She flicked a glance at Chip. One just happened to be sexier than the other. But sexy wasn’t what counted in a relationship.

  She nodded firmly. “Very, but that’s not why I like him. He’s even-tempered, stable, secure.”

  Chip huffed. “That sounds like a good time.”

  Cassie grabbed her opposite elbow, holding herself stiffly. “He’s lots of fun.” Probably. Samuel had to have more hobbies than working out and running actuarial numbers. He just wouldn’t show them off at work. Besides, she didn’t need a laugh-a-minute guy. Sitting side by side, reading books by the fire, smart conversations over a glass of wine, that was all she wanted.