Cakewalk

by Claire Hastings

  Snap out of it, girl. Who are you? Thinking about beards and tattooed arms, she scolded herself. Just because he was tall, dark, and mysterious, with hair just long enough to always look perfectly mussed, didn’t mean she should be standing here lusting after him. This was not how a recently widowed woman reacts to men who aren’t their husband. Never mind that her husband wasn’t actually dead. Regardless, she didn’t need to be distracted. She was starting over and finding herself—and finding herself did not require a man in any way.

  A fierce smell hit her nostrils, tearing her attention away from her daydreaming. Sniffing a couple of times, she tried to place the smell. It almost smelled like…like something was burning.

  “Mother trucker!” she exclaimed, taking three large steps to land her back in the kitchenette.

  Placing her glass on the stove and grabbing a kitchen towel, she flung open the oven door to find her cupcake tray on fire. The flames were small but still covered more than half of the items, and if she didn’t do something quick, it would be all of them.

  “No, no, no!” she yelled, looking around her, trying to figure out what to do. She just had to remember to breathe. No big deal. So the cupcakes were on fire. Grasping the oven rack with the towel, she pulled it out as far as it would go and started to blow on the flames as if they were candles on a birthday cake. This only seemed to make the flames grow, and panic started to rush through Gigi’s body.

  “Stop!” she told them, as if somehow food was suddenly going to talk back. “Sugar Honey Iced Tea!”

  Unsure of how to make them stop, she swatted at them with the towel she was still holding. For a brief second this seemed to work, until she looked at the towel and noticed that it was now also on fire. Letting out another shriek, she threw it as hard as she could toward the sink. Missing the sink by just enough to be an issue, the towel brushed against the faded floral curtains that hung around the itty-bitty window just above it. Gigi’s eyes went wide as she watched the flames jump from the towel to the cheap fabric of the curtains, which lit up faster than anything she’d ever seen.

  “No, no, no!” she repeated, frozen in place, watching as the flames grew bigger. What did she do? Was she really that big of an idiot that she just set her kitchen on fire?

  “Georgia, what were you thinking? You are not cut out for domesticity. Just stick with being pretty, would ya?” Bradley’s voice said. She could feel the tears start to sting in her eyes at the thought. But she couldn’t let him be right. She just didn’t know what to do.

  A loud pop resounded through the little studio apartment as one of the cabinets next to the flames splintered from the heat. The amount of smoke filling the room was starting to make Gigi’s eyes burn. She needed to figure out how to put this fire out and fast. Water? Was that the answer? Yes, of course water was the answer. Water plus fire equals no more fire, Gigi. That’s how this works!

  She needed something to fill with water, and she didn’t dare use any of the items that currently sat dirty in the sink. They probably had oil residue from the batter, and oil was bad for flames, right? Hadn’t she read that somewhere at some point? Why couldn’t she remember these things? She could feel her whole body shaking as she spun around to find something to fill up. Her lungs were starting to hurt from the smoke, and her eyes were burning even more now. Her heart was pounding and her breath was ragged, and she couldn’t remember ever being this terrified. This was even worse than the tire blowing out last week. Just as she lifted her hand to reach for a cabinet door, she felt it come into contact with something.

  Her glass.

  She remembered she had left it on top of the stove just as she watched the pale yellow liquid spill out through the haze. As the alcohol hit the still burning tray of cupcakes, Gigi could feel the heat of the flames whoosh over her. The fire in the oven tripled in size thanks to the limoncello, and all Gigi could feel was the heat start to engulf her. She took a few steps back, trying to get away from it, when a loud bang startled her, causing her to trip and land on her rear end.

  “What the fuck?” Holden called out, coughing as he entered her apartment. “Gigi!”

  “Holden!" she shouted back, trying to push herself up.

  Next thing she knew, he was right next to her, scooping her up off the floor. In a single movement he threw her over his shoulder, like she was nothing more than a sack of potatoes. He rushed through the door of the apartment and barreled down the stairs. She jostled a bit as he did so, but was thankful to no longer be anywhere near the flames. He had one arm wrapped around her knees and the other holding her in place on her back. His hands were warm and strong against her, and there was a feeling of comfort to them in this moment.

  “But it’s on fire!” she exclaimed a few steps from the stairs.

  “I’ve called the fire department,” he replied harshly, taking a few more steps before putting her down. He took in what a mess she was, still covered in cake ingredients and now smoke. “You okay?”

  “I…I…I…” she stumbled, tears starting to trickle down her cheeks. She could hear the sirens of response vehicles approaching, and her heart skipped a beat thinking about how much damage there was going to be to the apartment.

  “It’s okay,” Holden told her, his face grim. “You’re safe.”

  “But the carriage house!”

  Before Holden could respond any more, a small fire truck, followed by two pickups and a sedan, pulled up the driveway, lights and sirens blaring. Three men suited up in their fire-retardant gear piled out of the fire truck, and two of them headed straight up the carriage house stairs, extinguishers in hand. The two men who got out of the pickups ran over to the fire truck and helped the last guy unravel the fire hose and get it hooked up to a hydrant down by the street. Gigi watched in amazement as these men did everything in tandem at what felt like warp speed. The only place she’d ever seen anything like this was on TV, and she still couldn’t believe she was witnessing it now. Had she really done this? How on earth did a kitchen fire get this out of hand so quick?

  A short, stout redheaded woman in her early fifties walked over to them, a concerned look on her face. “Everyone get out?” she asked.

  “Yeah, she was the only one inside,” Holden said, tilting his head to indicate Gigi.

  “Good, but we’ll still need to get you checked out,” she said as an ambulance pulled up behind the sedan she’d gotten out of. “I’m Chief Horrigan, and I'll let you know once we have things under control.”

  “Thanks, Chief,” Holden replied, his own stony expression unchanged. Turning to Gigi, he said, “You go see the EMTs.”

  “I’m fine, just shaken up,” she said, not wanting to be any more trouble.

  “Not up for discussion,” he barked. “Go see them. Now!”

  Gigi flinched at his tone, stumbling back a step or two. His face was cold and mean, covered in a “don’t mess with me” look. She knew that look. She’d seen it many times before, only instead of it being on the face of someone tall, dark, and mysteriously sexy, it had been on her husband’s. So Gigi did the only thing she knew that she was good at.

  Doing as I’m told…

  Holden

  "So, Mister…” Chief Horrigan said as she approached Holden, who was still just standing in the middle of his yard. The fire department had managed to get the fire out relatively quickly, but the chief had spent the last thirty minutes in the carriage house checking everything out.

  “St. James,” he informed her, shaking her hand. “Holden St. James.”

  “Mr. St. James, thankfully it was just a small kitchen fire.”

  “Any idea on what started it?”

  “From the looks of it, my guess is an over-greased baking pan. There seemed to be some charred paper on the bottom, so I’m thinking she must have set the pan down on the paper the butter comes in and not realized it was there before sticking it in the oven. If she bought some local stuff it’d be wrapped in wax paper rather than parchment, and that stuff isn't ov
en friendly. Although, with all that butter, even parchment is a risk,” she told him with a definitive nod. “Add in the limoncello…well, let’s just say gas ovens, flaming baked goods, and alcohol tend to be a bad combination. The cheap fabric the curtains were made of didn’t help anything either. No structural damage though, just cosmetic. Could maybe even do it yourself if you’re into that kind of thing,” she said, looking him up and down.

  “Good to know,” he muttered, hoping he didn’t come off as rude. He wasn’t really looking for a home improvement project, but then again, he wasn’t exactly writing either, so maybe it was something to consider. “So, she’s fine to keep living there?”

  They both looked over at Gigi who was sitting in the back of the ambulance wrapped in a large gray blanket. Her strawberry-blonde hair was a mess, pieces of ash weaving through it, and her face had black dirt streaks across it. Even sitting there with the remnants of the fire coating her, holding an oxygen mask to her face, she was cute. Something about her screamed to him to hold her and comfort her. But he’d also seen the shaken look in her eyes when he’d snapped at her a little bit ago. It was the same one she’d had when she had flinched after he accidentally made contact with her the other night in the apartment. There was definitely a lot more to Gigi Hawthorne than met the eye.

  “Oh no. Not even close,” the chief said, turning back to Holden. “The particles from the smoke and soot are wicked dangerous, even after the fire is out. You’ll need to at least have the place professionally cleaned by a fire mitigation company before anyone inhabits that space again. I can give you the name of someone from Montpelier who can probably get that part taken care of in the next couple of weeks.”

  Holden glanced back over at Gigi, who hadn’t moved at all. If she couldn’t move back into the apartment, where was she going to go? There weren’t a whole lot of options around here other than maybe the motor lodge, and that was probably not the best place for a single woman. Turning and looking back at the main house, he thought about the four unused bedrooms. Any one of those would be more than suitable for her to stay in. Hell, the room at the opposite end of the hall that connected to the hall bath was probably not much smaller than the carriage house apartment. But that would mean sharing common areas with her which, given the way his body reacted to her, might not be the best of ideas. He just didn’t know what he disliked more—the idea of turning her out on the street or the idea of her under the same roof.

  “Yeah, that’d be great,” he said, turning back to the chief.

  “Sure thing. And we’re almost done here, so we’ll be out of your hair soon.”

  Holden nodded his thanks and sucked in a deep breath. Running his fingers through his hair, he tried to find it within himself to tell Gigi that she was technically homeless. Again. But even he wasn’t that much of an ass, was he?

  Gigi looked up as he approached her, a defeated look in her eyes. That look immediately morphed into panic when he came to a stop in front of her. He hated that reaction.

  “Hey, how ya feeling?” he asked.

  “I’m fine!” she said, removing the oxygen mask. “I’m so sorry, Holden! I don’t even know how it happened. I was just trying to get the cupcake recipe right because Audrey said that there were some complaints and I don’t want to disappoint her and Zara! I’m so, so sorry!” she blurted out as she popped up from where she was sitting. The frantic look on her face seemed to radiate throughout her entire body, her petite frame shaking slightly as the blanket dropped to the ground.

  “Is it ruined? I didn’t ruin the carriage house, right? I didn’t mean to, I promise!” she continued, seemingly oblivious to her own rambling. A tear slipped down her cheek, and Holden could tell she was fighting hard to not let any more show. “I’ll pay for it! Whatever the damage is, I’ll pay. I’m so, so sorry!”

  “Whoa, whoa. Slow down,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. Slowly guiding her back to the ambulance, he eased her into her seat and grabbed the blanket to wrap back around her. An EMT appeared from around the vehicle and handed her the mask again, giving her a look that could only be construed as, “don’t move.”

  “The carriage house will be okay. Just smoke damage. Apparently nothing a professional cleaning and some trips to the hardware store can’t fix.”

  “Oh, thank heavens,” she said, her voice cracking slightly with emotion.

  “But…the chief says it’s uninhabitable for a while.”

  “Sugar Honey Iced Tea!”

  Holden tried to bite back a laugh at her way of avoiding saying ‘shit,’ but it managed to escape anyway. Leave it to this cute little thing to find polite ways to swear.

  “I can at least go inside and get my things, right? Or do I have to head to the motor lodge in just what I have on?” she asked, looking down at her yoga pants and T-shirt, covered in not only cupcake batter but also soot.

  “I’ll have to ask about getting your things, but if you’d prefer…” he started, before pausing to get his words right. He had no idea why he was about to offer her a room in his house, but he was. He enjoyed being alone. Enjoyed keeping the world away. With Gigi in his house that was never going to happen. But he couldn’t let her leave either. Clearing his throat, he started up again. “If you’d prefer, the big house does have five bedrooms. And there is one at the opposite end of the hall from me that connects to the bathroom, so you’d have your own space.”

  “Really? Holden, I couldn’t intrude like that!”

  “It’s fine. There’s plenty of room.” Gigi’s face lit up a little at his words, and a smile started to tug at the corner of her pretty pink lips. Why did he want to kiss them so bad? He was a married man—he shouldn’t be thinking of his tenant like that. You were a married man, he corrected himself. Hannah’s been gone for six years…

  “We’re just going to have to set some ground rules.”

  “Like?” she asked, looking at him like he might pull the rug out from under her.

  “Like the only time you’re allowed to use kitchen appliances is if I’m home. And the fire extinguisher remains on the counter at all times,” he answered, laughing a little.

  The look of defeat washed over Gigi faster than anything Holden had ever seen. He’d meant it as a joke, but everything about her body language currently told him that to her, it most certainly wasn’t one. What had gone on in her life that she lacked any kind of confidence?

  “Gigi, it was—”

  “No, I think that’s more than fair. I did almost burn down your hundred-something-year-old house. But I promise I’m not an idiot! It was an accident and—” she rambled.

  “Gigi, I know it was an accident. Accidents happen. No one thinks you’re an idiot. Now you sit here, rest, do what the EMTs tell you, and I’ll go ask the chief about getting your things to move you into the big house,” he said, turning to head toward the carriage house where he could see the chief talking with her crew. Throwing a look back over his shoulder, he saw Gigi shudder, and she let out what must have been a sigh of relief. His heart ached a little, watching her like this, and he wished there was more that he could do to make her understand that he didn’t blame her. He just wasn’t sure he had the emotional capacity for it.

  5

  Holden

  It was another two hours before the chief would allow Holden to go into the carriage house to grab Gigi’s items. She tried to insist that she could do it, but the chief had put a stop to that immediately, telling her that she wasn’t allowed since she’d already inhaled too much smoke. It hadn’t taken him very long to get everything she needed, since the only items it seemed she had unpacked were the toiletries in the bathroom. Once he’d gotten everything into the big house and Gigi had been officially released by the EMTs, they both made their way inside.

  “Well, this is it. Montgomery Manor, as we call it,” Holden said, suddenly feeling like he was thirteen and having a girl over for the first time. “Like I said the other day, it was built in 1853. There are five
bedrooms and two bathrooms. Awkward note about that—both bathrooms are upstairs.”

  “That’s…odd,” she responded, seeming to relax a little. Her eyes still had a concerned look to them, like she was still feeling guilty about the accident and was worried that she was putting him out.

  “Yeah, it’s not something I’ve ever understood, but it’s been that way my whole life, so at this point I’m just used to it.”

  “Did you grow up here?”

  “No, this place belongs to my godfather. I grew up just across the border in New Hampshire, but I spent every summer here,” he told her. “So, I know this weird old place pretty well at this point.”

  “I’d say so.”

  “This is the living room,” he said, stepping out of the entryway and into the large room that took up most of the front of the house. The two large bow windows were surrounded by built-in bookshelves and sat across from a large fireplace. “Then through here is the dining room.”

  They walked into the connected room heading to the back of the house. The old house was the exact opposite of an open floor plan, but the idea of tearing down the wall between the two rooms just seemed like too much work. Holden watched as Gigi’s eyes went wide, taking in the massive oak table that seated twelve as well as the built-in buffet that ran along the entire length of the wall that was shared with the living room. The room was massive and largely unused for years. Caulfield had stopped hosting dinner parties after Aunt Viv had passed, but no one could seem to find a better use for the space, so the table remained.

  “Please don’t think I’m crazy, but you know what this kind of reminds me of?” she asked, pointing to the buffet, holding back a giggle.