The Icing on the Cake (Otter Bluff)

by Linda Seed

  He brushed his fingers over her cheek, then leaned in and let his lips gently caress hers.

  Cassie’s body felt warm and fluid as she leaned into him, deepening the kiss.

  And that was when her father turned on the back porch light and opened the door.

  “Cassie? Is that you?”

  The magic, of course, was broken, as it always was and always would be in the presence of one’s father.

  Cassie jumped back, creating a foot of space between her body and Brian’s.

  “Yes, Dad. It’s me. Hi. I’m just coming in.” She gave her father a little wave.

  “And who’s that with you?” Vince squinted theatrically from his place on the stoop, backlit by the kitchen’s ceiling lamp.

  “I’m sorry,” Cassie mouthed to Brian. Then she took his hand and led him over to the Jordan house.

  The introductions were courteous but awkward. “Brian, this is my dad, Vince Jordan. Dad, this is Brian Cavanaugh.”

  Vince’s big, meaty hand virtually swallowed Brian’s as they shook.

  “Nice to meet you, son.”

  Cassie noticed that her father’s voice had lowered somewhat, probably in an attempt to intimidate Brian. She was also certain that his use of the word son was calculated: the man vs. the child.

  “You too, sir.”

  “Cassie, your mother’s waiting up because she wants to talk to you about something. Why don’t you go in there? I’ll walk Brian to his car.”

  Cassie pouted like a teenager. “What could she possibly need to talk to me about at this time of night?”

  “Who knows the thoughts of women?” Vince said.

  “Dad—”

  “Brian.” Vince gave Brian a smack on the back that was supposed to appear friendly, but which caused Brian to pitch forward from its force. “What say we take a little walk to your car?”

  When Brian was gone, Cassie stood in the Jordan kitchen with her hands on her hips, confronting her father.

  “Mom did not want to talk to me. Mom is asleep.”

  “My mistake.” Vince’s eyebrows rose in a display of innocence.

  “Mistake, my ass.”

  “Cassie …”

  “I’m a grown woman,” she went on. “I do have sex. Not with Brian—yet—but it does happen on occasion. With people. And you have no right to—”

  “Of course I have a right. I’m your father.” His tone had softened, and the way he was looking at her made her feel five years old again. “I’m always going to worry about you and what you do. With people.” He said the last bit archly, tossing her own words back at her.

  “Damn it.” She plopped down into a kitchen chair. “He was kissing me. We were kissing.”

  “I noticed.”

  “It was a good kiss, too.”

  “Cassie.” Vince winced painfully. “I really don’t need to hear that.”

  “All this means is that next time I’ll go to his place,” Cassie said, her arms crossed over her chest.

  “Another country would be even better.” He kissed her on top of her head and walked toward the stairs, a glass of water in his hand. “Good night, sweetie.”

  “Good night, Dad.”

  She was still feeling distinctly sulky when he turned back toward her on his way to bed. “That guy treat you right?”

  “He’s been a complete gentleman. A fact I was hoping to correct tonight, until you—”

  “Ah, jeez.” Vince scrunched his face up as though in pain. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that last part.”

  Chapter 16

  Cassie took it up with her mother the next morning over coffee. Vince had gone to his office early, and Cassie didn’t have to be at Central Coast Escapes until ten.

  “Could you please tell Dad to stop scaring away my dates?” Cassie was dressed in faded jeans and an old T-shirt, her hair up in a messy bun. Nancy had her Bunco group in a half hour, so she was dressed up in slacks and a bedazzled tunic, her hair freshly done.

  “I’m not sure there’s anything I can do about it, Cassie. He’s your father, and you’re his youngest. You’re always going to be his baby.”

  “But I’m not a baby. I’m a grown woman. What does he think he’s doing, guarding my virginity? I haven’t been a virgin since twelfth grade.”

  “Oh, Cassie. I really don’t need to hear—”

  “Mark Pullman. Prom night. His parents had a van, so …”

  “Cassie!”

  Cassie gave her mother a mischievous grin.

  “You’re punishing me,” Nancy said.

  “Sort of.”

  Nancy sat down in a chair across from Cassie at the kitchen table. “Honey, he loves you, and he worries about you. That’s all.”

  “He doesn’t stalk Whitney’s boyfriends. At least, I don’t think he does.”

  “Well, Cassie, Whitney doesn’t live in our backyard.”

  And that was the heart of the problem, wasn’t it? Cassie was an adult, but she didn’t fully live like one. If she did, she wouldn’t be close enough that her parents could monitor her activities by looking out their kitchen window.

  When she got her bakery up and running, she was going to remedy that situation.

  “Ugh.” Cassie rubbed at her face with her hands. “I have to go to work.”

  No matter how many shifts she worked at Central Coast Escapes, no matter how many toilets she cleaned and bed linens she changed, she was never going to be able to afford her own place that way.

  She needed to figure out the bakery thing if she ever wanted to live like the mature adult she was.

  Not to mention if she ever wanted to get laid again.

  Which she really, really did, and sooner rather than later.

  “So. What are your plans?” Brian asked his mother as she stood in the kitchen at Otter Bluff making a hemp milk and kale smoothie for herself and Lorenzo. Thor was standing by in case she dropped something—though Brian doubted he would want it if she did.

  “Well, darling, I’ve got a spa treatment booked this afternoon. I’ve also got a meeting with a gallery owner on Main Street, though it’s not likely I’ll want to place my work there. This isn’t exactly an art world hub, and I—”

  “I meant … you know … past that. Past today.”

  She blinked at him. “Well, tomorrow I thought I’d—”

  “When are you leaving?” He hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but she didn’t seem to be taking the hint.

  She turned toward him, looked at him as though she were in awe of his gall, and placed a fist carefully on her hip. “Why, Brian. Are you in a hurry to get rid of me?”

  He thought about softening it—thought about coming up with some kind of spin to suggest he was only concerned about her and her needs—then decided that blurting had worked fine so far.

  “Yes. I am in a hurry to get rid of you, Mom.”

  For just a moment, he thought he saw real hurt on her face, and he regretted having said what he’d said—even if it was true.

  “What have I done to displease you now?” Her subdued tone told him he’d been right—she was hurt.

  “Nothing. You haven’t done anything.” He sank down onto a barstool at the kitchen island. “It’s just … if you must know, you’re interfering with my sex life.”

  “This is about Cassie.”

  “Yes, it’s about Cassie. We had our date, and it went well—very well—and then I couldn’t bring her back here, obviously, because you’re here, and you can’t exactly bring your date back to your place when your mom is in the next room. So we went to her place, but her trailer is in her parents’ backyard, and her dad saw us kissing and … well. Let’s just say I left shortly after that.”

  Lisa laughed in a theatrical, tinkling way that left Brian wondering if she’d practiced it in a mirror. “Oh, sweetheart. You could have brought her here. I’m not a prude. It’s not as though you and she would be having sex on the sofa. You do have your own room.”

  “Yeah, but you
and Lorenzo are right next door, and there might be … you know. Noises.”

  The way he’d said it suggested that it was his and Cassie’s noises he was worried about. In fact, his concern was that if Lisa and Lorenzo made noises—which they’d done last night, to his horror—Brian might not be able to perform. And he really didn’t need that kind of humiliation on top of everything else.

  “Dear, I assure you, I won’t be emotionally scarred by your noises.”

  But I’m emotionally scarred by yours.

  “Well, still …”

  “So.” Lisa folded her arms on the island countertop and looked closely at her son. “You really like this girl.”

  “Yes. I really do.”

  “Hmm.”

  He didn’t like the hmm, didn’t like what it implied about whatever it was she was thinking.

  “So, when are you leaving? And, more to the point, when is Lorenzo leaving?”

  She rested her chin on the back of one hand. “I’m not sure yet, Brian. I’ll have to see how things … develop.”

  Cassie had another week to make Rachel’s wedding cake, which was plenty of time, but she still didn’t have a kitchen of her own to work in. That meant she had to ask Brian if she could use Otter Bluff.

  That was awkward with Brian’s mother there, and it was also awkward that she’d be asking him for a favor when they were dating. Seeing someone was complicated enough without adding the power dynamic of one person needing something from the other.

  Except, Brian needed something, too. He needed a YouTube video that would bring in a lot of views and please his subscribers. Maybe he could get what he wanted at the same time Cassie got her own needs met.

  Maybe we can do the video we talked about at the same time as I do the wedding cake, she suggested to him in a text message that afternoon. I know we talked about an Easter theme, but a wedding cake’s harder, so the fail will be better.

  She watched as three bouncing dots on her screen told her he was formulating a reply.

  Sounds good. When do you want to do it?

  Cassie thought about her schedule. She had a day off on Thursday, which would work well for her to get the cake done for the weekend.

  Thursday afternoon?

  See you then. BTW, my mother will probably still be here. She was supposed to be visiting for the weekend. One weekend. Two days, three if there’s a holiday, four if you add Friday and Monday. No definition of weekend stretches to Thursday, yet here she’ll be, hovering and calling you darling.

  Cassie couldn’t help giggling at Brian’s mini tirade about his mother.

  That’s fine, she responded. If she doesn’t mind me being there.

  Brian thought about telling Cassie that his mother had specifically stated she didn’t mind Cassie’s presence—even if Cassie stayed overnight while naked. But there didn’t seem to be a way to say such a thing that wasn’t mortifying. Instead, he confirmed their plan and ended the text exchange with a jaunty See you Thursday!

  Then he began planning the video.

  He called Shayla, his part-time assistant, and asked her if she was available to film the video for him. She was, so that was good.

  Then he opened his laptop and started working on a script for the video. Of course, most of it would be unscripted—the informal nature of it would be the best part—but there’d be an intro, and that had to be planned in advance.

  How would he introduce Cassie? As a friend? More than a friend? Would he simply call her a local baker?

  It occurred to him that this wouldn’t just be an entertaining video; it could also give her baking career a significant bump if the thing took off and people decided to hire her because of the show.

  The whole thing was going to be a win-win.

  He wrote the script for the intro, sent Cassie an e-mail asking her what supplies he should have on hand for his version of the cake, then watched an array of similar videos to see what had already been done, what worked, and what didn’t.

  After that, he spent some time on social media, leaving amusing quips on Twitter and Facebook.

  He took Thor to the dog park and let him run until he was exhausted and panting. Then he brought him home and gave him a new chew toy and a bowl of water.

  Finally, Brian had to do the thing he’d been avoiding—he had to tell his mother about his plans for the video, since she was, after all, staying in the house, too. He needed to make sure she’d be out of the way on Thursday.

  “Hey, Mom?”

  Lisa was sitting on the back deck in an Adirondack chair, sipping sparkling water and reading something on her laptop. Brian had stuck his head out the sliding glass door to talk to her, and she looked up and set her reading glasses on top of her head so she could see him better.

  “What is it, dear? And please, don’t make me twist my neck like this to see you.” She patted the chair beside her. “Come. Sit.”

  Reluctantly, he came outside and sat down.

  “Where’s Lorenzo?”

  “He went to San Luis Obispo to try to find me some decent art supplies. I have an idea for a new painting.”

  “Oh. That’s great.”

  Brian didn’t often ask about Lisa’s art career, but he had the impression it was going well. A couple of years before, one of her paintings had sold for more than two hundred thousand dollars at auction, and the sale had made her an art world celebrity. Her picture had been in all of the art magazines, she’d had a prestigious solo show at a hot New York gallery, and she’d found herself being invited to the same parties as Madonna and Leonardo DiCaprio.

  He didn’t know if she was still riding that high, but she had a full-time personal assistant, so he assumed she was.

  The idea of her launching into a new painting gave him a moment of hope.

  “So, does that mean you’re going back to LA so you can use your studio?”

  Her eyes narrowed, and he knew he hadn’t been nearly as subtle as he’d thought. “It does not. If I were going home to do the painting, I wouldn’t need Lorenzo to buy supplies here, now would I?”

  Brian’s shoulders fell. “I guess not.”

  They sat for a moment watching the waves crash against the rocks below the house.

  “So … Cassie’s coming over on Thursday.” It had been on the tip of Brian’s tongue to ask for his mother’s permission, but that was stupid—he wasn’t sixteen, asking his mom if he could bring a girl home. In fact, when he was sixteen, he’d never asked his mom if he could bring a girl home, because his mother hadn’t been there. Why should he start asking her permission for such things now?

  “Is that so?” She raised her eyebrows in question.

  “Yeah. We’re going to work on a video for the show. So … you might want to, you know, have a spa day or something.”

  “Hmm. What is the nature of the video?”

  “I don’t think that’s—”

  “For God’s sake, Brian, I’m asking about your work. I’m not inquiring about state secrets.”

  He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard his mother refer to his YouTube videos as “his work” before—as though they were a legitimate career. She’d never given any indication that she was interested in what he did or that she had any respect for it.

  “Cassie’s going to teach me to decorate a cake.”

  Lisa allowed him a half smile. “And you think that’s something you’ll be able to do?”

  “No. That’s the point. I’m going to fail. Entertainingly.”

  “I see.” She put her glasses back in place and looked at her laptop screen, her interest in the topic apparently exhausted.

  “So, can you give us the kitchen on Thursday?”

  “Of course.” She shrugged to indicate the insignificance of it all.

  “And you’ll … you know. Leave?”

  She looked at him over the tops of her glasses. “I don’t believe I will, actually.”

  “Mom …”

  “Brian, I want to watch. I want to see wha
t you do. Is that so wrong?”

  He supposed it wasn’t. He’d always wanted her to take more of an interest in him, and that’s what she was planning to do. So, why did he feel so uneasy about it?

  “You and Lorenzo will have to stay out of the way while we’re recording. And be quiet. And … you know. Not be the center of attention.”

  Her lips curved slightly. “It’ll be a strain, dear, but I’m sure we’ll manage it.”

  Chapter 17

  Brian had everything ready by Thursday. He had the extra supplies Cassie had asked for, and he’d used a cake mix to bake a simple two-layer round cake he’d be decorating.

  The cake was lopsided, but that was okay. The point of the whole thing was for him to fail, after all.

  When Cassie showed up that afternoon, he met her at the door. She was holding a kind of tackle box that she used for her cake decorating stuff, and she had an additional bag of supplies slung over one shoulder.

  “Ah … there’s just one thing,” he said.

  “Uh-oh. What?”

  “My mom’s here. And so is Lorenzo.”

  “Oh. That’s okay.” She leaned in and whispered, “I kind of want to get a look at him anyway.”

  “Right. Well, that’s fine, then.” He put his hands into his jeans pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet while Thor sniffed Cassie’s legs.

  Cassie’s eyebrows drew together as she studied him. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah. Of course. Sure.” He rubbed the back of his neck. He knew he was doing a crappy job of convincing her that he was a man in top form.

  “Well, maybe let me in, then. This stuff is getting heavy.”

  “Oh. Jeez. Here, let me take that.” He took one of the bags from her and stepped back to let her in.

  “Cassie, is that you?” Lisa came out of the bedroom to greet her. She was wearing some kind of loose, flowing silk top with an artsy print on it, skinny jeans that hugged her long legs, and a full complement of jewelry—bracelets, necklaces, and dangling earrings.