The Bakeshop at Pumpkin and Spice

by Donna Kauffman

  He gripped her shoulder. “You’ve gone pale. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She bobbed her head. “Yep.” She needed to stop nodding. He was looking at her like he was about to throw her in his truck and take her to the hospital. But it couldn’t be true. It wasn’t supposed to be Chip’s face.

  Her body grew warm. Would it really be that bad? She looked him up and down, wondering what he’d look like in a suit. Or at least business casual. He’d probably clean up well. “Thanks again, Charles,” she said, trying out his full name. A perfectly respectable name. One people could depend on.

  Chip twisted his lips. “That might be the name on my birth certificate, but I’m only a Chip.” The look in his eyes told her she’d been caught out. Embarrassment burned in her gut. He wasn’t a house to be gentrified. Chip knew who he was, and a part of her respected the hell out of that.

  But that proved he wasn’t the man for her. No matter what the stupid mirror had shown. She stalked over to it and plucked it off the floor.

  Her breath caught. It wasn’t midnight. Seeing Chip’s reflection had meant nothing.

  Her stomach rolled. That was a good thing. She should be relieved.

  Her brain knew it was for the best. So why wasn’t her heart getting the message?

  Chapter 5

  Chip sneezed at the cloying vanilla scent of the wax stuck in his nose. That one wasn’t even close. He gazed around the candle and potpourri shop and sighed. It wasn’t in here. Nothing came close to that delectable scent that emanated from Cassie’s skin.

  The Monday morning rush, if there was such a thing in Moonbright, had ended an hour ago, and Chip was the only customer in Scentabulous. The woman behind the counter had offered to help him when he’d first come in, and now shot him increasingly annoyed glances with every candle or bundle of leafy crap he smelled. Like he was manhandling her merchandise. Which, okay, he kind of was, but he couldn’t get that scent out of his head. Couldn’t get Cassie out of his head. Which made no sense. Sure, she was smart, funny, gorgeous, and generous with her cookies, but she took every chance to tell him she wasn’t interested. Chip wasn’t normally the kind of guy who pursued a woman. Too much work when there were plenty of other fish in the sea.

  What was it about Cassie?

  He nodded goodbye to the clerk and escaped from the store. That had been an idiotic detour. If he’d found her scent, what would he have done? Lit the Cassie candle each night, wishing she were in his bed with him instead of just her smell? He snorted and flipped his sunglasses from his head to the bridge of his nose.

  Striding down the sidewalk, Chip made a mental list of what he needed to get done that day. Picking up his lumber delivery was number one. His house had finally closed, and he should at least start the demo he had planned. Even though he wouldn’t have much time for it. Cassie’s job had a deadline, so most of his day would be spent there. He’d be working long nights, heading over to his flip house after he put in his time with her haunted one.

  All solid reasons to get his butt into gear.

  But he couldn’t get the scent of her, the feel of her as she’d tumbled into his arms, out of his head.

  He walked past his truck parked at the curb and made his way to Bellaluna’s instead. That cookie, the one that had gotten him into trouble, had been very close to Cassie’s scent. Besides, he was hungry. A cookie and a cup of joe would hit the spot.

  He pushed through the door, causing a small bell to tinkle overhead. The smell of everything delicious in the world seduced Chip’s nose. Only one customer was in line in front of him, and Sofia was handing her a cake box.

  She turned her smile on Chip. “Hello, young man. It’s been a couple of days since I’ve seen you in here. You want your usual?”

  His mouth watered at just the thought of the flaky almond croissant he normally ordered. Maybe he’d get the croissant and the cookie.

  Rubbing his stomach, he scanned the display case. “I had a cookie a couple of days ago that was in one of your boxes. About so big, with a bit of cream and sprinkles on top?” He held his hand up, thumb and index finger spread.

  Sofia tilted her head. “I’m sorry, caro. If you don’t see it in the case, we don’t have it today.”

  His stomach chose that moment to grumble. “Okay, then, my usual.”

  He pulled out his wallet, paid, and took his plate and mug. Only two tables were occupied, and Chip sat at his usual spot by the window. He pulled out his phone to check the news and bit into breakfast heaven.

  The bell above the door tinkled, and something much more entertaining than his phone walked into the bakery.

  Cassie didn’t see him as she beelined to the counter. She held a hushed conversation with Sofia before her shoulders sagged. She nodded, and Sofia reached across the counter to pat her hand. She handed Cassie a mug of coffee.

  Cassie turned and took a step toward the nearest table.

  Chip raised a hand, catching her attention.

  Her eyes widened and a smile streaked across her face when she saw him, making Chip’s pulse race. No way was that the look of someone who just wanted to be friends.

  Just as quickly, her excitement disappeared and the look she shot him was purely professional. “Hi, Chip. How are you doing today?”

  Standing, he pulled out a chair. “Good. I’m planning on heading over to your place after lunch.”

  She sank down and reached for a packet of sugar. “If you need to get inside for any reason—to use the bathroom, get a cookie—there’s a spare key under the back doormat.”

  Chip frowned. “That’s not a very secure system.”

  “This is Moonbright.” She doctored her coffee and took a sip. “The chances of my locking myself out far outweigh the chances of a burglar checking my back mat.”

  Sofia bustled over, a small white plate in her hand. A chocolate-dipped cannoli sat in the middle on a white doily. She set the pastry in front of Cassie. “I know you were asking about that sugar-free, gluten-free nonsense, but I thought you could use this instead. You have a lovely figure. You don’t need to diet.”

  Cassie’s cheeks turned an adorable pink. “Thanks.”

  Sofia nodded and strolled back behind the counter as Cassie took a bite.

  Chip narrowed his eyes. “You came to Bellaluna’s looking for health food?” He eyed Cassie’s form. And Sofia was right. Lucky for him, Cassie wasn’t stick-thin like those models he saw on magazine covers nowadays. Nothing needed changing on her body.

  “It wasn’t for me.” Cassie brushed a bit of cream from her bottom lip.

  “More cookies for the mystery man?”

  She raised one shoulder. An auburn curl broke loose from her bun and drifted down to brush against her collarbone.

  Irritation curdled in his stomach, and he pushed his almond croissant away. “Sam’s the guy who doesn’t appreciate your cookies.” Son of a—Chip inhaled sharply. Cassie was right. If that was her sort of man, there wasn’t much chance she’d be interested in him. Chip liked Sam well enough, but the dude was like a robot, with no passion for anything except keeping fit. A robot in a suit. Didn’t get his hands dirty, and was probably ten times smarter than Chip.

  “How did you know?”

  “He told me last week he was cutting carbs.”

  She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “You and Sam socialize?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and bit back an angry retort. Like that would have been unheard of, he and Sam hanging out and having a beer together.

  He twisted his lips. Okay, yeah, that probably would never happen. “He jogs on Spinney trail and that’s where I walk my dog. It’s how we met.”

  “You have a dog?” Her eyes went as liquid as melted chocolate. “What kind?”

  “A retriever/Lab mix. His name is Max.”

  She sighed. “And Samuel wanted to pet Max and that’s how you met.”

  Chip snorted. “You don’t know much about this guy you’re stuck on.
When we talk on the trail, Sam ignores Max. He doesn’t like dogs.”

  She scrunched her face up. “What are you talking about? Everyone likes dogs.”

  “Not Sam.” He and Sam had met when the guy had gotten in Chip’s face about some dog shit he’d stepped in. When Chip had pointed out the bag full of crap he carried—he cleaned up after his dog, thank you very much—Sam had been decent enough to apologize.

  But he still didn’t like Max.

  “What do you see in the guy?” Chip leaned back in his chair. “His only sense of humor seems to be corny one-liners. The guy’s so tightly wound he could single-handedly turn apiece of coal into a diamond. And I can’t imagine he’d appreciate your Halloween craziness.”

  She turned her mug in her hands, staring into its depths as though trying to read her future. “Have you ever looked at someone and just known? One glance, and you could see your future written out as clearly as a novel?”

  He stopped short of rolling his eyes. Love at first sight. Such a chick thing to believe in.

  She raised her gaze from her coffee and locked it with his. She looked a little sad, a bit vulnerable, and sexy as hell, a weird combination, but it worked on her. His chest squeezed, as if he’d been hit with a load of bricks. Unbidden, the word yes slipped from his mouth.

  Her cheeks went pink again and she dropped her eyes to the table.

  “Go out with me.” He didn’t say it like a question. He didn’t want to give her the chance to say no.

  She buried her face in her mug and took a large sip. When she put the coffee down, she sighed. “No, I can’t.”

  “Bull. You absolutely can, and you should.” He raked a hand through his hair. “You’d realize that if you’d wise up and forgot about Sam. He’s not right for you.”

  She waved her index finger between the two of them. “No, we’re not right for each other.”

  “Because I work with a hammer instead of a computer?” A low burn of anger spread from his gut up behind his breastbone. “You don’t want a pair of calloused hands marking your skin?”

  A fine shiver went through Cassie’s body, but her face remained set. She stared over his left shoulder. “We just aren’t suited. It has nothing to do with the man you are.”

  “Like hell.” He stood and tossed some bills down for the busboy. “You don’t think I’m good enough because of my job. That’s the only thing stopping this.” Shit, he should show her his balance sheet. He wasn’t doing so badly. He worked hard, saved his money, and was now investing in real estate. But no way was he going to grovel for her attention. Try to buy her affection.

  She grabbed his arm, her grip like an iron vise.

  “Have you ever been poor?” she asked. “Not college-kid-eating-ramen poor, but the power’s-been-out-for-a-week-because-your-mom’s-latest-loser-boyfriend-took-all-the-money-when-he-left kind of poor. The haven’t-eaten-anything-but-gum-in-three-days kind of poor, and that’s only because gum was the only thing an eight-year-old was brave enough to steal from the corner market.” Her fingertips dug past his shirt and got right into his skin.

  He swallowed, a sharp pain lancing the back of his throat. “No.” Jesus. God. She wore a nice silk blouse and cute shoes, and he’d assumed that the way she presented herself now was the way she’d always been.

  “I deserve better than that life,” she whispered.

  His heart flopped like a dying fish. He squatted next to her and cupped her cheek. “Babe.”

  She leaned into his touch for the briefest of moments before drawing back. She blew out a long, slow breath and as he watched, rebuilt her walls. Her spine hardened to steel; her gaze became shuttered.

  And that right there was why he wasn’t giving up. She was such a complex mix of grit and need, and he felt right down to his bones that his purpose was to satisfy each and every one of those needs.

  His muscles tightened, as though preparing for battle. But this was a long game, and he knew when not to push.

  He leaned over and pressed his lips to her temple. “You do deserve better.” Better than settling for the safe bet. Better than trading love and passion for security. “You deserve it all.”

  Chapter 6

  Cassie turned her car down her street, her hands gripping the steering wheel. She’d thought about taking the coward’s way out—going out for dinner after work and getting back home after Chip had left. After her stupid mouth had gotten away from her that morning, the idea had been tempting. But then what about tomorrow? Or the next day? Eventually she’d have to face the man if she wanted her haunted house finished.

  She smacked her head on the back of her seat rest. She’d admitted something to Chip she hadn’t even told Franca. She didn’t want to face the pity that was sure to be in his eyes.

  Maybe he’d had a traumatic brain injury in the meantime and forgotten. A girl could only hope.

  She slowed as she approached her house. Her dark house. “Huh.” All her pep talks about facing Chip and it hadn’t even mattered. He wasn’t here. And by the looks of her driveway, he hadn’t put in an appearance all day.

  She parked at the curb and got out, slamming her door shut. Just when she was beginning to think he was different. Stalking to her house, she pulled out her phone to check for messages. Nothing.

  It was her own fault. She’d waited too long to start work on her haunted house. She knew how flaky handymen could be. She just hadn’t wanted her driveway taken over for a week ahead of time.

  She pushed into her house, flipped on her lights, and stalked to the living room. Jinx lay in a straight line across the sofa’s arm rest, and Cassie flopped down beside her. “I hope your day was better than mine,” she said, and stroked Jinx’s back.

  The cat batted her hand away, as if the show of affection was interrupting her nap, and hopped off the couch.

  “That fancy kibble you get can always be downgraded.” Cassie glared at the cat’s retreating form. “To generic brands!”

  She kicked her feet up on the ottoman and slouched farther into the sofa. Fine. Samuel didn’t love her, Jinx didn’t love her, Chip—

  Nope. Cutting off that thought right there.

  And speak of the devil . . .

  The low rumble of Chip’s truck approached, headlights flashing through her front windows.

  She pushed to her feet and tugged on the hem of her jacket. Sure, he showed up now when, in the next thirty seconds, it was going to be too dark to work. Well, she’d tell him just where he could stick whatever excuse he had.

  She marched out and confronted him on the driveway as he climbed out of his truck. His hair was damp, as if he’d just come from a shower, and instead of his usual jeans or chinos, he wore gray sweatpants slung low on his hips.

  He opened his mouth, but she held up her hand to stop him. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it. All I want to know is if you’ll still be able to get my haunted house finished in time.”

  “Yes.” He took a step forward. “But, listen, I had an emergency—”

  “A gym emergency?” She snorted and shot another glance at the incriminating sweatpants. “You just had to get those last couple of sets in?”

  A ball of golden fur hurtled from the open truck door and leapt at Cassie, knocking her back a step. The dog grinned up at her, his whole butt wagging right along with his tail, and Cassie couldn’t help but melt.

  “Hello there, cutie.” She scratched behind his ears. He licked her wrist, then jumped down to explore her yard. “Don’t tell me that sweet dog is yours.”

  “Hey, I can do sweet.”

  Cassie rolled her eyes and stalked back to her house. “You will be here tomorrow, I hope?”

  Chip caught up to her and matched her stride. “Yes, I’ll be here tomorrow. And I would have been here today except—”

  “Except you’re a flake.” She stopped on her porch and gave him her sweetest smile. “Don’t worry about it. You probably can’t even help it. You’re a handyman. And that’s why h
andymen are on my professions-not-to-date list.”

  He crossed his arms, his pecs flexing. “You have a do-not-date list?”

  “Of course.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Musicians, actors, fitness trainers, handymen, and bartenders. All flakes. I’ve theorized that people who work gig-type jobs can’t handle steady work because they are undependable people.”

  “Thought about this a lot, have you?” He took a step closer.

  Jinx peeked out the front door, saw the dog on her turf, and tore between Chip and Cassie to find a spot in the bushes to plot.

  Chip grimaced and stepped back.

  “Yes.” Cassie planted her hands on her hips. “I’ve dated the wrong men for years. So, when I moved here, I decided to get smart. Wrote down a list of all the qualities I want in a man and those I don’t. The do-not-date list was a side product of that.” It was also a best hits of the losers her mom had dated. Musicians had been her mom’s main weakness, but there had been the odd bartender or handyman thrown in there, too.

  She turned and marched for her door.

  Chip’s hand on her arm stopped her from going through. “The house I’m working on had a sewer pipe explode. Even calling in friends and favors, it took five hours to fix. I couldn’t just leave it.”

  She studied his damp hair again. That could explain the shower. But she couldn’t let all her indignation slip away. “You could have called. Heck, even a text would have worked.”

  “I was elbow-deep in waste.” His nostrils flared. “I wasn’t going to pull out my phone.”

  “And one of your friends couldn’t have contacted me?” She shook off his hand. Her breath hitched. “Look, I get that I’m a minor job for you, but my haunted house is important to me. If you don’t have the time for it, for me, please let me know now.”

  Her hand trembled, and she clenched it. It shouldn’t matter that he’d turned out to be another unreliable male. She’d been expecting it.

  “I’ll get it done.” He moved into her space, close enough for her to smell the cedar and citrus scents of his soap. “Cassie, I won’t let you down.”