by Linda Seed
Lisa grasped Cassie on both shoulders, leaned in, and did a two-cheek air kiss that never failed to make Brian roll his eyes.
“Come in, darling, come in,” she told Cassie. “Brian has told me what you’re doing today with your video. I can’t wait.”
“Oh. Well, that’s …”
“You haven’t met Lorenzo, have you?” She raised her voice and called down the hallway, “Enzo, darling, come meet Cassie.”
Cassie was so preoccupied with whatever was bothering Brian that she didn’t fully see Lorenzo when he first came into the room. Her brain simply didn’t register him. She glanced at him, then looked at Brian.
That was when it clicked that Lisa’s boyfriend was some kind of faux-Italian god with a man bun and six-pack abs. The abs were visible because he was wearing nothing but loose linen pants slung so low on his hips that they appeared to be in danger of falling off.
The fact that she didn’t really see him and then suddenly did caused her to do a visible—and probably comic—double-take. She was aware that Brian had noticed it, but now that it was out there, she had no way of taking it back.
“Cassie. Lovely to meet you.” Lorenzo took both of her hands in both of his, then did the same air-kiss thing Lisa had done.
“Oh. I … you too.” Cassie tried to keep her eyes on his face and not on his naked chest.
“Did you forget to pack shirts, Lorenzo?” Brian asked. “Would you like me to loan you one?”
“Oh! Ha, ha.” Lorenzo chuckled and said to Cassie, “He’s very funny, no?”
Thor, who’d come to investigate, licked Cassie’s hand, and she rubbed him behind his ears.
“Can we just get this done?” Brian said.
They were still waiting for Shayla. Brian had told her not to come until a little later, to give him and Cassie time to set things up and go over the plan.
That’s what they were doing now in Otter Bluff’s big kitchen as Lisa sat at the island, observing them.
“Here’s my cake.” Brian brought his cake out of a plastic container he’d put it in and set the layers in front of Cassie. “I didn’t freeze it because it seemed to me a lot of visible crumbs will increase the fail.”
Cassie nodded. “Yeah, it should.”
“So your intention is to do a poor job?” Lisa asked, a mug of herbal tea on the island in front of her.
“Yes,” Brian deadpanned. “It’s humor.”
“I suppose that’s a matter of individual interpretation,” Lisa said.
Cassie had her own layers made and frozen, and she removed them from the plastic Ziploc bags she’d brought them in.
The two of them laid out the tools of Cassie’s trade: frosting, piping bags, metal tips for the bags, spatulas for spreading frosting, a couple of round cardboard cake boards, some food coloring, and various other things with purposes that were unknown to Brian.
By the time they were done with all of that, the doorbell rang and Shayla was there with a video camera, a tripod, and an armload of lighting equipment.
“Oh, jeez,” Cassie said when she saw all of Shayla’s equipment.
“What?” Brian asked.
“It’s just … I guess I thought it would be you and me and an iPhone. But this is real. It’s like a real show.”
“Well, yeah. You’ve seen the show. You know what it is.”
“Yes, but it always looked so … informal. I didn’t think it would be this professional.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Brian said. “It was supposed to look informal, like a couple of guys goofing around. If that’s what you saw, then I guess it worked.”
Brian introduced Shayla around—she got a pair of air kisses from Lisa and another from Lorenzo, while Cassie simply offered a handshake.
“Is this one going to be on camera?” Shayla motioned toward Lorenzo.
“No, just me and Cassie,” Brian said.
Shayla gave Lorenzo what could only be described as a leer. “What a shame.”
What followed was, to Cassie’s mind, an odd combination of chaos and professionalism.
The cake decorating part—or, at least, Brian’s part of it—was the chaos. Icing went everywhere, what should have been roses ended up looking like pink poop emojis, an entire corner of Brian’s cake fell off and onto the floor, and the end result looked like it had been mauled by rabid weasels.
Cassie’s cake, on the other hand, looked utterly lovely.
Of course, Cassie had expected all of that—the chaos. It was the professionalism of Brian and Shayla’s video production skills that came as a surprise.
It wasn’t that she’d thought he wasn’t good at what he did. Of course he was, or he’d never have made a living at it for so many years. But watching him switch back and forth between his goofy numbskull persona and the guy behind the scenes, blocking out shots and troubleshooting the lighting, issuing orders to Shayla regarding camera angles and lenses, had Cassie seeing him with new eyes.
“You really know this stuff,” she said with some wonder while they were taking a break between shots.
“Well … I’ve been doing it for a while.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, inadvertently smearing pink frosting onto his skin.
“Yeah, but …”
“I mean, you watch the show,” he said.
“I do. But it always looked so … unplanned. So casual.”
“It wasn’t.”
She was beginning to see that.
While they worked, Lorenzo was somewhere else—he’d left a while ago to do some errand or another—but Lisa lingered nearby, politely staying quiet while the camera was on but adding comments here and there in between takes.
“Why, Brian, I had no idea you were a real director!” she’d said at one point. Then, at another: “Cassie, you’re an artist. A real artist!”
When it was over, Cassie had the bottom tier of Rachel’s wedding cake covered in fondant and decorated, ready for the top two tiers to be added later. It looked perfect, just the way she’d imagined it.
The kitchen at Otter Bluff, on the other hand, looked as though it had been hit by some sort of explosive device made of cake and shrapnel.
“Holy shit.” Shayla was packing up her video camera, and she gave a long, low whistle as she looked at the mess. “You oughta think about bringing in a power washer and hosing the whole thing down.”
Thor was busy licking up a splotch of frosting from the floor, and Brian took him by the collar and began to lead him into a bedroom. “C’mon, big guy. All I need is to have you puking frosting in the middle of the night.”
The dog whined in protest as Brian removed him from what looked like a sugary crime scene.
When Brian came back, he looked around in awe at what they’d done to the place. Then he went into the bathroom, came out with a wet washcloth, and wiped frosting off his face and hands and out of his hair.
“I guess I’d better get on this,” he said, indicating the mess.
“I’ll help,” Cassie said.
Brian winced. “I hate to do that to you. You were doing me a favor, after all.”
“And you were doing me one,” she reminded him. “It won’t be so bad if we work together.”
They both looked at Shayla, whose eyes widened in innocence. “Oh. Gee. You know, I’d love to help out, but I have an appointment, right around”—she checked the time on her phone—“now! Right around now.” She reached out, picked up a bite-sized chunk of Brian’s cake from where it had plunked onto the countertop, and put it in her mouth. “Tastes good, at least.”
She gathered up her equipment and headed out the door before anyone could protest.
Brian looked at Lisa. “Mom, I don’t suppose you’d—”
Lisa let out a scoff. “Dear, you know I don’t clean. That’s what I hire people for.”
She went to the refrigerator—stepping around fallen chunks of cake and frosting—pulled out a Perrier, and took it out onto the back deck. Brian and Cass
ie watched through the sliding glass door while she lowered herself into an Adirondack chair, twisted the cap off the bottle, took a sip, then raised her face toward the sun.
“I guess it’s just us, then,” Brian said.
“I guess so.”
He’d missed a bit of frosting at the corner of his mouth, and Cassie had the nearly irresistible urge to lick it off. She grinned at him, thinking about it.
“You look like you’re up to something,” he observed.
“I might be,” she admitted.
They were standing very close together, and they’d both lowered their voices to something soft and intimate.
“If that something involves me …”
“It might.”
“Then, I’m just saying, I hope you’ll feel free to … you know … follow through on whatever it is.”
“Really.”
“Well … I wouldn’t want to be the one to hold you back or—”
She leaned forward and, with the tip of her tongue, licked the little bit of pink sugar from the edge of his bottom lip.
They’d been doing the show, having fun, and then all of a sudden, Cassie was licking him. And now it wasn’t fun anymore. It was … well. It was electrifying.
Yes, she’d been giving him that look. And yes, he’d encouraged her to go with whatever it was she’d been thinking.
But the feel of her tongue on him …
It was a lightning bolt that went straight from the point of contact, down through his body, and to his nether regions. He shifted a little to ease the pressure in his pants.
He looked at her, holding himself in check for just a beat, then he shoved his hands into her hair and took her mouth with his.
She tasted like frosting and warm woman and something else … something that might have been happiness.
He deepened the kiss, touching his tongue to hers as her body melted against him.
When they parted, her eyes still closed, she let out a little hum. Then she opened her eyes and blinked once, twice.
“Oh, boy,” he said.
He said it not because he regretted what he’d done or even to express the immeasurable pleasure of it. He’d said it because he knew this wasn’t just a kiss. This was going to lead … somewhere.
Somewhere big.
Whether it was big good or big bad, he’d just have to find out when he got there.
Chapter 18
Cassie couldn’t go out with Brian that weekend because she had a packed schedule. She had to finish Rachel’s cake, deliver it, work eight-hour shifts at Central Coast Escapes, and attend her mother’s birthday dinner.
Things with the cake went fine. She finished it at Otter Bluff while Brian gamely kept his distance to avoid distracting her. She delivered it on Saturday, took pictures for her portfolio, and left a plastic holder of business cards on the cake table—with the bride’s permission—in the hope that she would attract more clients.
She cleaned houses the rest of Saturday and all day Sunday, worked the reception desk at Central Coast Escapes, squeezed in some time during her lunch hour to buy her mother a gift, and was near exhaustion on Sunday night as she gathered with her family at the Jordan house to celebrate the birthday.
“God. Is that wine? Give it to me.” Cassie had barely come in the back door to the kitchen before she snatched a bottle of chardonnay out of Whitney’s hand.
“Glass?” Whitney raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and offered Cassie a wineglass.
“Oh, I thought I’d just chug it out of the bottle if that works for everyone.” But she took the glass from Whitney, pulled the cork, and poured herself a sensible serving.
The kitchen was humming with activity. Of course, Nancy wasn’t cooking since it was her birthday. So Cassie’s siblings were bustling around stirring pots, checking on things in the oven, and chopping things at the center island.
“Is everything all right?” Lacy asked. She looked up from where she was poking a meat thermometer into a pot roast.
“Oh, sure. Things are good, actually.” Cassie took a sip of the wine, savoring its crisp, fruity flavor. “The wedding cake I did for Deandra’s cousin came out great. She was thrilled with it. I’m just exhausted, that’s all.”
“Ooh. Did you bring pictures?” Jessica, who’d been chopping vegetables for a salad, put down her knife and reached out for Cassie’s phone.
Cassie brought up the photos on her iPhone and handed it to Jess.
“Oh, my God. This is gorgeous.” Jess swiped through the photos, then handed the phone to Whitney, who swiped and handed it to Lacy, who swiped and tried to hand it to their brother, Nick.
“If I can’t eat it, what do I care?” he said, a stack of plates in his hands.
“Very supportive,” Cassie said, taking back her phone.
“It really is stunning,” Whitney said. That was quite a compliment coming from Whit, who’d always been the family’s arbiter of taste. “You’re a genius. You’ve got to get your own bakery soon.”
“With what?” Cassie leaned her butt against the counter and sipped more wine. “Central Coast Escapes barely pays me enough to buy groceries and make my car payment.”
“Speaking of that,” Jess said. “You need a better job.”
“Gee. You think?” Cassie quipped. “And anyway, I don’t want a job. I want my own business.”
“Have you checked with the local restaurants to see if you can sell baked goods? That could really bring in some money,” Lacy suggested.
“Yes, and two of them said they’d be interested once I get a commercial kitchen and a health department inspection. Which leaves me back where I started.”
“And what about the guy?” Jess wanted to know. She waggled her eyebrows at Cassie.
Of course everyone knew about Brian. Lacy had known from the start, and Cassie had to tell Whitney when she’d borrowed the dress for her date. One or both of them had to have told Jess and Nick—it was what they did. There were few secrets in the Jordan family.
“He’s good.” Cassie tried not to display a goofy smile, but she couldn’t seem to help it.
“Oh ho!” Jess said.
“You’re blushing,” Whitney pointed out.
“Does that mean you did the deed?” Lacy asked.
“Oh, crap. I don’t need to hear this.” Nick grabbed a handful of flatware and went out to finish setting the table.
“No, we haven’t done the deed.” Cassie rolled her eyes. “We might have last weekend if Dad hadn’t scared him away.”
“Wasn’t that only your second date?” Jess wrinkled her nose in barely suppressed judgment.
“Yes. We kissed, and that was it, so you can stop looking at me that way,” Cassie told her.
“I’m not looking at you any particular way,” Jess protested. “I just think—”
“She thinks you should be saving yourself for marriage,” Whitney said, smirking.
“I hate to tell you, Jess, but that ship sailed a long time ago,” Cassie said.
“I’m aware.” Jess scowled. “I found your birth control pills when you were in your senior year in high school, remember?”
“In any event,” Cassie said, trying to get the conversation back on track. “He asked me out this weekend, but I was swamped, and now I’m here, so it didn’t happen. But we did a video a few days ago.”
She told everyone about the YouTube video and Brian’s plans for it.
“That sounds like fun. When’s he going to post it?” Lacy asked.
“I don’t know. He’s got to edit it. He’s going to let me know. Jeez, I hope I look okay on camera. I did my hair and everything, but there was powdered sugar everywhere, so …”
“Are you kidding? I’m sure you looked flawless.” Whitney perched one fist on her hip. “With your peaches and cream complexion and that wholesome farm girl thing you’ve got going on?”
“Wholesome farm girl? Now, wait a minute.” Cassie didn’t know whether to be flattered or offended.
“What’s taking so long? I’m starving.” Cassie’s father poked his head into the kitchen.
“Almost done,” Jess told him. “Five more minutes.”
“You’ve been saying five more minutes for twenty minutes,” he grumbled before retreating back into the dining room.
Brian watched the edited video of himself and Cassie, and he felt that tingly feeling he got when he knew he’d done something good.
It wasn’t that the idea was all that original or compelling. Cake decorating fails had been popular long before Brian and Cassie had added their contribution to the genre. It was something less definable—something you couldn’t force.
They had chemistry.
Brian sat back in his chair at the dining room table at Otter Bluff and watched the video again. His mother and Lorenzo were out, so he had the kind of precious solitude he experienced so rarely these days.
What he was seeing was chemistry, pure and simple. He’d had it with Ike, and that’s why their show had done so well.
That magic, that undefinable something that drew viewers in—he was seeing it again for the first time since he and Ike had done their last show together.
It was possible he was imagining it, that he was seeing what he wanted to see.
Brian grabbed his cell phone and called Ike.
“You got a minute?” he asked when Ike picked up the phone.
“God, yes. Benny wants us to go shopping together. Shopping. Dude, the longer you stay on the phone, the less time I’ll have to spend sitting in the guy chair outside a dressing room answering questions like, ‘Does this make me look fat?’”
“I heard that!” Benny hollered in the background.
“The answer to ‘Does this make me look fat’ is always no,” Brian said.
“Like I don’t know that. Like I’d have survived to this age not knowing that.”