by Piper Rayne
I offer tall-dark-and-handsome a sheepish smile. How could I have already forgotten his name? “I hope we aren't banned from Cherry Street permanently after calling it a rathole.” I cringe. Why would I even bring that up again? I’m so freaking awkward it’s ridiculous.
“Of course not.” He smiles at the kids who are currently fighting back a fit over the ice-cream celebration that Grandpa just interrupted. “Don’t worry. I’ll put the ice cream scoops in a cup and you can take them with you.”
Aiden and Peyton cheer in unison.
“As long as your mom says it’s okay, of course,” he adds with a quick smile. Gah. Why can’t I remember his name?
“You don’t have to do that,” I fumble over my words. I’m not used to men being so kind, especially to my kids. Ed would have had a fit right there in the middle of the restaurant for the commotion and then they would have spent the entire car ride home being yelled at for embarrassing him. His reactions to moments like these were exactly why I decided to file for divorce.
“I want to.” His smile widens. “As long as you don’t mind.”
A smile and half-hearted nod is all I can muster up.
He disappears behind the swinging doors and returns with the check, which thankfully has his name scribbled across the bottom. James. That was it. “Two scoops of vanilla ice cream, and three vanilla milkshakes. I figured it might be hard to drive and eat a scoop of ice cream. I hope this is okay, instead.” He hands me the Styrofoam cups, including one small enough Lee can hold it all on his own.
“You really didn’t have to—” Cute and thoughtful? Stop it. Stop it right now. I need to focus on getting a job and getting Grandpa home in one piece, not on tall-dark-and-handsome.
“It’s really fine. I wanted to do it. It looks like you’ve had a rough morning.” James’s hand brushes against mine as he hands me the bill. I jump and pull my hand back like the spark of electricity that just passed between us could be lethal.
This is the day that just keeps on giving, isn’t it? “Ice cream makes everything better.” What the hell did I just say? Ice cream… Ugh.
Lee kicks his feet and sucks on his milkshake while I shift him on my hip in a futile attempt to keep the vanilla milkshake from dripping down my black knit top. Too late.
“Oh, I made his milkshake a little thinner than the others. I figured it would be easier to get through the straw and all.” James cringes. “Maybe I made it a little too thin. Sorry about that.”
I can’t help but laugh. I’m a walking disaster today and he’s apologizing to me. What a sweetheart he must be. Stop. It. If having three kids has taught me anything it has been that the universal rule for all moms is that our clothes are magnets for every single crumb and spill that can and absolutely will happen during the day. Every. Single. Day. “That was really thoughtful of you. Most people would have just brought out a cone, if anything at all, and not even give it a second thought.”
“Well...” His eyes brighten. “I have a little girl at home. She’s not so little anymore, actually; but she used to be little. I remember the struggle.”
“Ah.” I shrug one shoulder and smirk. “The hardest job in the world, but the only one that really matters.”
“Exactly.”
“I hope we didn't disturb everyone.” I recoil as I remember the couple in the next booth.
“No harm done.” He fumbles with the papers falling out of his small brown leather portfolio. “How was your meal?”
“It was excellent, thank you.” Finally. I managed to put together a completely normal sentence. What’s he doing with that portfolio? Right. He has already given me the bill. He’s probably waiting on me to pay instead of standing here. I completely forgot about that.
“You mean excellent for a rat hole, or in general?” He covers his mouth and probably thought I didn't notice the laugh. I noticed.
I really want to just crawl under the table and hide. “In general.” This is so embarrassing. I dig through my wallet with Lee still cooing over his milkshake. I can never find my card when I really need it. “Listen, I'm really sorry about the commotion.” Crap. I have to use cash. “Thirty-seven-dollars and fifty-eight cents.” My last penny. Literally. “This is so embarrassing; I don't have enough—”
He holds up one hand. “Don't worry about it. It happens to the best of us.” He stuffs the money inside his flipbook and tucks it behind him. “You all have a good afternoon.” He waves goodbye to my kids as he turns and disappears behind the swinging double doors.
Why me? I ask myself that question all the way back to the SUV where Peyton and Aiden are already arguing over who can sit in the middle section next to Lee’s car seat. Some things never change. I really hope they never do.
2
James
Styrofoam take-home containers squeak in my arms as I wrestle with the jammed lock on our apartment door. “Come on,” I growl under my breath. The lock finally clicks, and the door swings open with my daughter, Casey, standing behind it. She’s laughing at me without offering to help as I’m still fumbling with the food containers and this overloaded keychain.
“Thank you, Case.” I pass her the food containers as I shut the door behind us. “I need to call the landlord. The property manager was supposed to have that fixed two weeks ago.”
“Uh-uh.” She lifts the containers to her nose. “This doesn’t smell like the grilled chicken and cheesy mash I asked for.” Her thumb flips one of the lids open. “Oh, come on. Dad, you know I don’t like cheeseburgers.”
“I’m sorry.” I shrug. “It’s all that was left after the dinner rush.” I toss my jacket over the back of the dining chair closest to the door. “I forgot to put in the order and we ran out pretty early.”
Casey Roberts is ten-years-old and looks just like her mother. Long brown hair that she prefers to twist into a top-knot than have draped over her face, and bright green eyes that make emeralds look dull. “It’s fine.” She smiles and grabs forks from the top drawer in the kitchen. “I’m hungry, enough. I’ll eat it.” She places the forks on napkins in front of the only two chairs at the table. “You might need this for the…” She makes a gagging noise. “Potato salad.”
“I’m sorry.” I can’t help but laugh. “I know you hate it. We can go grab takeout tomorrow.”
“You’re off tomorrow?” Casey asks as she shoves a french fry in her mouth.
I shake my head as I chow down on this double cheeseburger. “No, but I should be able to get out of there fairly early tomorrow.”
“That would be great. I need to go to the store and get cookie stuff.” She rolls her eyes.
“Cookie stuff?” I can actually feel my eyebrows pointing straight down to the floor. “You need snacks? Movie night?”
“No, dork.” She laughs. “Miss Grayson is making us all bake something for the sale this year.”
I nod slowly like I know exactly what she’s talking about. “Oh, right.” How could I have forgotten? I have to make a guess. “The fundraiser?”
“Right,” she says between french fries. “The one I told you about in July.”
Ugh. “I’ll stop and pick up the ingredients on the way home tomorrow and we can get started.” I don’t know the first thing about baking. “When do we have to have it all turned in?”
“A week from today,” she snorts. “Don’t worry, Dad. I already called Grandma and I have it all figured out. If I can’t make them then we’ll just call Jerry.”
Great. “No. We are not going to cheat.”
“It’s not cheating.” She picks at the potato salad in her takeaway container. “They’re all just going to make fun of me anyway. I might as well just go to the bakery and ask Jerry for some cookies. He might even do it as a donation, so we don’t have to come up with the extra money.”
That just broke my heart, but I can’t let her see it. I hold my arms out and gasp in feigned shock. “Honestly, you don’t think I can pull this off?”
“Not really, no.
” She shakes her head and shrugs. “You’ve never really been the baking type.”
“I have worked in a kitchen for my entire career, thank you very much.” It might not be baking, but I know my way around a kitchen.
“Oh, I know,” she giggles. “But none of that has ended very well when flour and sugar are involved.”
I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. I think I’m actually offended now.
“Okay, fine,” Casey sighs. “But if it doesn’t work then we’re calling Jerry.”
“Deal,” I say the word knowing I’m going to regret it. “Now let’s finish dinner and get to work on the dishes. I need to watch some YouTube—”
“Baking tutorials?” She snickers.
“Maybe.” I can’t let her down. She’s been through too much already. “I can do this, Case.”
She gives a half-hearted smile as she grabs the containers and tosses them in the trash bin by the sink. “I know.”
I grab a rag from the middle drawer and dunk it in warm soapy water. “Case…” I swipe the rag across the counters. “Why did you say that the kids will just make fun of you anyway?”
She swallows hard enough I hear it from where I’m wiping down the dining table.
“Why are they teasing you, Case?” I cringe internally as I wait for the answer I already know is coming.
“I’m the only one that doesn’t have a mom to help with this stuff.” She puts another dish in its rightful place in the cupboard. “It’s just kids being stupid,” she scoffs.
My chin drops to my chest as all the possibilities of things they could be saying to her everyday run through my mind. “I’m sorry, Case.”
“It’s nothing.” She smiles and drains the sink of the dishwater. “I know you’re doing your best. It’s not your fault that she ran off.”
Poor kid. She shouldn’t have to be this strong, but I’m so damn proud of her. “It’s not your fault either, you know that. They have no right to make you feel bad because that happened.”
“Not a big deal, Dad.” She unzips her backpack and plops her homework on the table.
“Do you need a hand with that?” I really hope it’s not science.
She giggles. “It’s science. I think I’ll handle this one.”
I nod. It’s probably best that she does handle that one on her own. Science was never my strong suit, and every time I try to help her with it we end up having to sit down with the teacher and get him to agree to allow Casey to redo the assignment without my help. “That’s probably a good call.” The screen on my phone lights up as it buzzes across the tabletop.
I need a favor. Call me.
* * *
“Great.” I grit my teeth. Whenever Jack ends a message with “call me” it’s never good for me.
“Huh?” Casey asks looking up from her homework.
“Oh,” I stutter. “Nothing. It’s just Jack.”
She shrugs and goes back to her small stack of papers.
I flop down on the cracked leather sofa and tap my friend’s face on the screen. It only rings twice before Jack picks up.
“James! You forgot about me, again didn’t you?” Jack’s voice always sounds a little rougher than necessary, but I hear the smile in his words.
Okay, now I’m concerned. “Maybe,” I admit. I saw the note that he had called while I was helping that sweet, and slightly chaotic, family this afternoon. I never got a chance to call him back until it was almost time to leave and by then I was tired and just didn’t.
“Whatever,” Jack mumbles. “I need your help so that Ally doesn’t dump me right before our wedding.”
“What’d you do now, Jack?”
“Nothing!” Jack had a reputation of being the town’s playboy, but that was before he met Ally. Truth be told, he never was anything like what the townspeople had billed him as. One bad breakup in high school and he never could live it down. “It’s actually about her sister.”
“Nope.” I shake my head in defiance. It doesn’t matter that we aren’t on video chat. I’m sure Jack can see it anyway. He’s seen me refuse to be set up enough times that he knows the drill by now.
Jack laughs. “Relax. I’m not asking you to date her. She needs a job.”
“Oh,” I can hear my tone lighten. “That I can maybe help with. I have a hostess that I really need to fire, but it’s so hard to find help.”
“I’m not sure a hostess position will be what she needs.” Jack’s voice tightened with each word.
Damn it. “Oh, so now we’re going to be picky about the job I give your friend?” I damn near cackle in his ear. Yes, I said cackle.
“It’s not that. She’s got three kids. Starting over. No references—” Jack clears his throat. “None that she can use anyway.”
I roll my eyes so hard that I’m certain Jack hears them through the phone. “No references?” I snort. “Sounds like a perfect candidate for management.”
“Ah! That’s perfect.” Jack trills. “I’ll let Ally know.”
“Wait.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s not what I meant—”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
“You know damn well that isn’t what I was saying.”
“I’m going to email you her contact info and what I know about her references. Just remember that you can’t actually call them, or mention them to her.”
“Wait.” I shake my head and try to make sense of what just happened. “What?”
Silence. I pull the phone away from my ear and look at the screen. Call ended. “Well, this will be fun.” I toss the phone beside me; it lands on the couch. “Wait. Phone, tell the TV to show me baking tutorials.” Might as well get started.
“Hey, man.” Jack’s voice comes through the earbud dangling from my left ear.
I rub my hands across my eyes trying to clear the fog. I must have dozed off somewhere between when the baker made the royal icing and started decorating the cookies. The television screen had switched to random funny pet videos. “What? Who is this?”
“Did I scare you, princess?” Jack chuckles on the other side of the phone. “I’m sorry. That’s actually really selling princesses short. I’m certain they are much tougher than you are.”
“Thanks, bro.” Did I really have to wake up for this shit? “I just didn’t realize that the phone even rang. I think I dozed off a little bit.”
“Didn’t I just talk to you?” Jack asks.
“Yes.” I nod to no one and deny the video chat request. Video chats are just too much of a personal intrusion. Phone calls are bad enough. “Yes, you did. I was looking up recipes to help Casey with the bake sale and the overly formal wannabe baker was just too much. It put me over the top.”
“And… How is the recipe hunting going?”
“I am totally out of my depth here,” I admit.
Jack’s laugh sounds much closer to the phone that time. “You know, I think Ally’s sister is pretty good at that stuff. Maybe she could help.”
“Stop trying to set me up with her sister.” My finger hovers over the End Call button.
“Okay, okay.” Jack snorts. “I’m actually just calling to thank you for hiring Taryn.”
I feel my eyebrows pull together in confusion. “I don’t think I ever actually agreed to hire her. You just kind of hung up in the middle of the conversation.”
“You implied it.” Jack is thumping his fingers nervously against the steering wheel. The echo was enough to make my brain hurt. “I already told Ally on the way home from the movie. You got me out of some seriously dangerous territory there, man. Thank you.”
“No problem.” I scroll through my watch history. How could I have lost the recipe that fast to a sea of puppy and kitten videos? “What’s up, Jack? You never call me randomly and I know you’d rather send a text than call to say thanks, especially when I just talked to you.”
Jack clears his throat.
Busted. Damn it.
“Ally a
nd I were going over the wedding details tonight and she noted my obvious lack of a best man,” he stutters over the last two words. Jack has been a good friend, but we are nowhere even close to ‘best man’ territory.
“Oh…” I draw a complete blank on what to say to that. I don’t want to let Jack down and I know how difficult it is for Jack to ask for help, and here he is needing to ask for help twice in one night. I really want to tell him no effing way. I immediately feel guilty and start calling myself names my mother would have washed my mouth out with soap over if she ever heard them come out of me. The guilt wins. “Sure, man.” I smile trying to convince myself it won’t be that bad. “I’ll help however I can.”
“Oh…” Jack stammers. “You thought I was asking you to be my best man?” He laughs. “This is awkward.”
“Well, if you don’t need one then I’d rather stay home in my flannel pj’s if I’m being honest.” I feel my face warm from the bright red color my cheeks must be turning right now.
“I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Thank you.” Jack sounds relieved, even if awkward. “The wedding is on Christmas Eve and we’re hoping for only about five-hundred guests.”
“Only… five-hundred?” I choke on my drink as I process having to stand up in a suit and tie. Wait, a tux. Not a tux. Anything but a tux. “Do I have to wear a tux?”
“Yes.”
“Deal’s off.”
“And guess who the maid-of-honor is.”
“Okay, we’re done. I’m hanging up now.” I can’t help but laugh as I tap the button to end the call. We’re closer to brothers than friends even though we could go weeks without talking. It’s a mutual understanding we’ve had since high school. “This isn’t helpful. I need to know how to bake before they can just expect me to make the Gingerbread Palace Royale.” I swipe the phone screen to close the app and a notification pops up.
Message received from Ashleigh Lang.
The time stamp is from about two hours ago. My stomach twists. This is too much for one night. Ashleigh Lang is our CEO and has a reputation of having been born in a boardroom. She’s perfectly at ease making difficult business decisions and not feeling bad about it. Not even for a second. Messages from her are never good.