I’d just finished filling my gazillionth cup of the day when the bell over the door chimed. I spun around, bright smile on my face, and started my typical greeting, only to have it die on my lips. Like all the other times I’d seen Derrick since July fourth, I felt the same prickly ache creep up my spine just like it always did. Luckily, his back was turned to the counter and I was able to secure the pleasant mask I’d been forced to wear in his presence for the past month in place.
“Eliza, what’d I say?” His voice held a hint of exasperation as he continued to hold the door open for his daughter as she walked through. Her face was scrunched up in a way that only nine-year-old girls were able to pull off, communicating her fury as she crossed her arms over her chest. I’d met Eliza a handful of times when Derrick would bring her into the bakery, but I couldn’t really say I knew the girl. I’d seen her around town with her father in passing glances more than anything.
“You’re not being fair!” Eliza declared, stomping her foot for dramatic effect. “Mom already said I could go!”
“Well it’s not your mom’s weekend,” Derrick continued as he stalked toward the counter, his own face reflecting the agitation coming through each of his words. “It’s my weekend, and your mom had no right to tell you that you could go to Cindy’s sleepover on my weekend.”
Eliza’s head fell back as she shouted, melodramatically, “You’re ruining my life!”
“Yes, that’s exactly why I’m doing this, Eliza,” Derrick replied dryly. “Because I want to ruin your life. It’s got nothing to do with the fact that I only get to see you two weekends out of the month.”
“Cindy Sanford’s the most popular girl in school, and she invited me to her sleepover two weeks ago! I have to go!”
My eyes bounced between father and daughter.
“I told you you’re not going, and that’s all there is to it. You wanna be mad at someone, be mad at your mother for making promises she couldn’t keep.”
“Gah! I hate you!” Eliza cried at the ceiling before trudging over and throwing herself into one of the chairs along the glass windows that made up the entire front wall of Sinful Sweets.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Derrick murmured under his breath as he turned to fully face the counter. He shot me a smile in greeting, but I could see the pain his daughter’s words had inflicted in the backs of his eyes. “Hey there, sunshine. Sorry about that. She gets a little dramatic every once in a while.”
“No problem,” I replied softly, looking down to break the hold his eyes had on me. Now that I knew the truth, every time he called be by that particular nickname, it was like a punch to the gut. Ignoring the pain in my stomach, I asked, “Uh, so what can I get you?”
His eyes danced across the menu boards hanging along the top of the wall behind the counter. I’d decided to go old school and bought chalkboards. The first one contained our daily specials that I wrote out by hand each morning, taking the time and care to make sure the handwriting was pretty as well as legible. The other three boards were the standard menu that only changed with the season.
“I don’t know.” He smiled at me, and seeing as I was still harboring an unrequited crush, the beauty of that smile actually physically hurt. “What do you suggest for winning over a nine-year-old whose life is over because she can’t go to a sleep over?”
“Um…” I licked my suddenly dry lips, looking anywhere but his face. “Maybe a chocolate croissant,” I told his chin. “Or I have some strawberry cupcakes cooling in the back I was just about to ice if you don’t mind waiting.”
“Strawberry is Eliza’s favorite. You might have just saved me from an entire weekend of a pre-teen’s silent treatment. You’re a life saver, sunshine.”
I wasn’t sure why I did it, or what even possessed me, but my head snapped up and I met his hazel gaze head on. “My name’s Chloe.”
His head jerked back in surprise, his brow furrowing in confusion as he asked, “What?”
“My name, it’s Chloe.”
“I know what your name is,” he informed me, the befuddlement growing on his face. “What I’m not sure of is why you’re telling me something I already knew.”
“Oh, well,” I was back to staring at anything other than his face as I told his shoulder. “I just figured you didn’t know since you always call me ‘sunshine.’”
“Chloe—”
I continued, “And you know… since you called me Cathy at Noah and Harlow’s Fourth of July barbecue, and all. I just figured you didn’t know, so I told you.”
“Chlo—” he started again, but the incessant need to escape proved to be too strong to ignore.
“I’ll just go frost those cupcakes really quick so Eliza doesn’t have to wait. Be back in just a sec.”
I shoved through the door to the kitchen and collapsed back into the wall next to it, releasing the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding until my lungs began to ache. I felt like such an idiot. Not that it was all that surprising. I typically lost all brain function when Derrick was around, anyway.
I made quick work of the cupcakes, taking extra care with Eliza’s for some reason I refused to acknowledge. Putting the beautifully decorated cupcake on a tiny china plate, I pushed through the door that separated the kitchen and dining area, grabbed a chocolate croissant from the pastry case for Derrick, and made my way to the table where both of them sat in complete silence. Eliza was staring out the window, pretending to be oblivious to her father’s presence, while Derrick regarded his daughter with that same pain in his eyes I’d seen just minutes earlier.
“Here you go,” I told them as I sat their pastries down on the table.
“Thanks, Miss Chloe.” Eliza smiled. “Strawberry’s my favorite.”
And once again, I let my mouth get the best of me.
“I know.” I smiled back. “Your daddy told me.”
Eliza’s eyes darted to her father in surprise. I wasn’t sure if it was surprise that he’d do something so nice after how she’d just acted, or surprise that he’d remember his own daughter’s favorite cake, but either way, it broke my heart.
I made sure my voice and expression were both gentle as I spoke to her. “You know, you’re really lucky. You have a dad that really cares about you and wants to spend time with you. That’s a really special thing, sweetheart. And I know you love him just as much, and would never want to cause him pain, but when you tell your parent that you hate them, it hurts. I know, because I did the same thing when I was your age. I didn’t mean it when I told my mom I hated her, and I’m sure you didn’t mean it when you said it to your dad, right?”
She stared up at me with wide eyes, the same hazel as her father’s, and shook her head. “No ma’am.”
“I didn’t think so,” I whispered on a grin as I reached down and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “A girl as sweet as you would never want to hurt someone on purpose. Your heart’s too kind for that.”
I let myself glimpse in Derrick’s direction just long enough to see him looking back at me, something I couldn’t quite recognize in his eyes, but I wouldn’t allow my gaze to linger.
“You guys enjoy the treats, they’re on the house.”
“Chloe,” Derrick started, but I cut him off once again.
“I’ve got something in the oven back there, but if you need anything else, Ellie behind the counter will be more than happy to help you guys out.”
I spun on my heels and disappeared into the sanctuary of my industrial kitchen. Wondering for probably the millionth time why I couldn’t just be normal around Derrick Anderson.
* * *
Derrick
I sat out on the deck that ran along the back of my house as the sun began its descent, looking out on the Tetons. The way Chloe had looked at me earlier when she told me her name kept replaying in my head. I wasn’t sure why the conversation was bothering me so much, but, for some reason, it sat like a brick in my stomach, leaving me feeling unsettled.
�
�Daddy?” Eliza called, her head full of long, dark brown hair just like mine, sticking out the back door.
“Yeah, baby girl?”
Taking a hesitant step onto the back deck, she wrung her hands in front of her. “I, um… I just… wanted to say sorry,” she murmured in soft embarrassment, her eyes downcast. “You know, for what I said today. I don’t hate you.”
“I know, angel,” I told her softly, my heart stuttering in my chest at her apology. An apology I wouldn’t have gotten had it not been for a certain little baker. A sense of appreciation washed over me when I thought about what Chloe had done. The sweet, gentle, yet unmistakable way she set my little girl straight. That had definitely been something I wasn’t used to seeing. The only woman in my life who’d ever really interacted with Eliza was her mom, Layla. And the cold, manipulative way she acted was a juxtaposition to Chloe’s caring demeanor. I had to admit, it threw me off a bit.
What Chloe couldn’t have realized was that she’d managed to save me from an entire miserable weekend of silent treatment, only broken up by the occasional tantrum. Shit, I though. Maybe I should send her a fruit basket or something.
Women liked fruit baskets, didn’t they? It was a perfect way to hopefully kill two birds with one stone. I could say thanks for helping out with Eliza, and maybe ease whatever was causing her somewhat prickly demeanor, and get myself back on her good side.
It was a win-win.
If there was one thing I was good at, it was getting on women’s good sides. I figured I’d have Chloe acting her typically bright-as-the-sun self in no time.
2
Chloe
“A fruit basket?”
I looked from the chocolate-dipped fruit pieces, all cut to reflect different flowers shoved into a vase, to Harlow and shrugged.
Her face was scrunched in confusion as she looked at the arrangement sitting on the counter between us. “Why’d Derrick send you a fruit basket?”
“No idea,” I answered honestly, seeing as the card that had been delivered with it just ten minutes ago only had two simple words written on it. “Thank you.” That was it. Thank you. Thank you for what? I’d barely talked to him in the last month, let alone done anything to warrant his thanks. For crying out loud, the last time I’d seen the man was four days ago. And we’d hardly done more than nod at each other… if you didn’t count that brief, yet humiliating conversation about my name.
She snatched the card from my hand and stared down at the two words as I picked up my eleventy-billionth cup of coffee of the day and gulped.
“That’s so weird,” she huffed, tossing the card back down and picking up her own decaf coffee. “Derrick never struck me as the fruit basket kind of guy. You should call him and find out what the hell you apparently did.”
A sharp twinge radiated through my chest as I shook my head adamantly. “Derrick and I aren’t really like that, Low-Low. I don’t even have the guy’s number.”
Her pretty face pinched together in a scowl as she focused on me. “What the hell happened between you two, anyway? Last I saw, you were gearing yourself up to ask him out on a date, the next thing I knew, I couldn’t find you anywhere and you weren’t answering my calls. I’ve left you alone about it so far, but now chocolate-covered strawberries are in the picture. I want answers.”
“There’s nothing to say,” I shrugged casually even though, on the inside, I felt the sting of rejection all over again. “I just changed my mind.”
Harlow actually had the nerve to give me the “bullshit” cough. What were we, eighth graders? I shot her a look that portrayed exactly what I was thinking of her adolescent behavior. “It’s true.”
“Chlo, you’ve been mooning over the dude for… how long has he lived here?” she tapped her chin in thought, then snapped her fingers. “Right! You’ve been mooning over the guy for over a year and a half. That’s not something you just change your mind about. What really happened?”
I huffed out an exasperated sigh. “I tried asking him out, okay? But he was too busy staring at Tammy Bradford’s tits to pay attention to me,” I finished with a bitter sneer.
I clenched my teeth at her sympathetic expression. “Oh sweetie…”
“Then the asshole called me Cathy.”
The sympathy disappeared instantly. “Wait — what?”
“Yep.” I popped the “p” to add emphasis. “Tammy batted her fake eyelashes and gave him that I’m-a-sure-thing look, and that was it. He excused himself, called me by the wrong name, and more than likely ended up banging her in one of your bathrooms.”
“Ew!” her face pinched in disgust. “What a prick! I can’t believe he called you ‘Cathy.’ I should punch him right in the nuts next time I see him.”
Even though the visual of Harlow, lying in wait for Derrick to walk by so she could slug him right in the balls made me smile, I knew it was pointless. “Don’t do that,” I told her, knowing that if I didn’t, she wouldn’t hesitate to go through with it. “He’s Noah’s best friend, I’m not sure that friendship would survive if you were to rupture his testicles. Things would just get awkward.”
She harrumphed and crossed her arms over her chest, resting them on her protruding belly. “Don’t care,” she all but pouted, “still wanna punch him.”
I took another sip of my coffee. “You could always try and make it look like an accident,” I suggested, causing her to brighten.
“There’s an idea,” she smiled wickedly, and I began to worry for Noah’s safety whenever he crossed her. Although, he was a big boy; he could take care of himself.
“So, what are you gonna do with the fruit basket, then?” Harlow eyed the basket up and down, actually licking her lips in the process.
I ripped off the cellophane and pushed it in her direction. “Have at it,” I offered, even though those chocolate dipped strawberries were calling my name. The only thing better than fruit was fruit dipped in chocolate.
“You aren’t going to eat any?” She eyed me suspiciously. “Since when do you turn down chocolate?”
Then I made the mistake of saying the one thing that would set her off. “I’m on a diet,” I announced casually, snatching up a dishcloth and scrubbing down the countertop as an excuse to keep from looking her in her eyes-
“You’re what?”
A few of the customers enjoying their midday pastries shot curious looks in Harlow’s direction. “Shh!” I hissed. “Will you keep your voice down? Hell, any louder and only bats will be able to hear you!”
“Why the hell are you going on a diet?” she demanded to know.
I scoffed and gave her my best, are-you-kidding-me-with-that-question look. “I can spare a few pounds, Low-Low. Believe me.”
“You’re insane.”
“Says the woman with a model’s body,” I mocked.
“It’s because I’m tall!” she insisted. “You’re petite, Chloe. And you’ve got curves most women would kill for! I know I would. You don’t need to lose any weight. You’re built like a woman.”
“No, I’m built like a potbelly pig.” I pinched the roll on my stomach as evidence. For a woman nearing the end of her pregnancy, Harlow was a lot quicker than I’d expected. The next thing I knew, she was standing on the top rung of her barstool, leaning across the counter, and smacking the shit out of my hand. “Ow! What the hell!”
“Stop talking about yourself like that or the next one’ll be worse,” she warned, sitting back down and resting a hand on her stomach as she scowled at me. I rolled my eyes and lifted my coffee cup back to my lips. “Don’t you give me that resting-bitch-face either,” she scolded, pointing her finger at me in a way only a mother could pull off. She’d gotten good at it in the months she’d been back in Pembrooke, what with Ethan turning into an adolescent bag of raging hormones and all. The kid had definitely given her some practice.
I was just about to reply when the bell over the door chimed, alerting me to a new customer — or two, I noticed once I looked over. “Hey, Ms. Harl
ow!” Eliza practically shouted as she came skipping over to the counter, her father in tow just feet behind her.
“Well, hey there, honey. This is a pleasant surprise.” Harlow grinned widely, leaning down to give her a hug.
“Mommy said she had a headache so she asked Daddy to get me from daycare. Now I get to spend an extra night with him!”
“That’s great!” Harlow smiled tightly, careful to not let Eliza see the look she shot Derrick over the little girl’s head. He simply raised his hands in defeat.
Since she and Noah reconciled, and Noah and Derrick were such good friends, I knew that Harlow had gotten to know Eliza pretty well. She also filled me in on all the drama that took place between Derrick and his ex-wife. Apparently Layla wasn’t the hands-on type of mother, more interested in shopping or finding the next wealthy, eligible bachelor to hook her star to instead of spending time with her own daughter. I’d never met the woman, but I didn’t need to in order to know I’d despise her on sight.
What mother willingly tossed their child aside like that?
“Hi, Miss Chloe,” she smiled shyly.
I leaned my forearms on the counter, smiling widely at the beautiful little girl who looked so much like her father. “Hi, sweetheart. Did you have a good day?”
Her face seemed to light up under my and Harlow’s attention, which just made the sour feeling in my gut in regards to her mother that much worse. “Yes, ma’am!” she beamed. “I got a hundred on my spelling test, so Daddy said I could have a strawberry cupcake as a reward.”
“That’s amazing!” I cried, her little girl enthusiasm rubbing off on me.
“Yep, I even spelled all the hard words right! Mechanical, chemical, behavioral, and combination.”
My head jerked back. “Those are fourth grade words?!”
Welcome to Pembrooke: the complete Pembrooke series Page 2