“That sounds good,” said Purple Hair.
“What’s that one?” the other woman said, pointing at another cake.
“That’s Cassata alla Siciliana,” Ryan said to the women in slightly butchered Italian before I had the chance to respond. “It’s like an Italian cheesecake. Try it, you’ll love it.”
“Sold,” Purple Hair said to Ryan. “I’ll have a slice of that, please.”
“Me too,” her friend added.
I took their coffee order, they paid, and I told them I’d bring their food and drinks over to them once it was ready.
“Here you are, Ryan.” Sophie handed him his coffee. I noticed it was in a takeout cup.
My heart sank.
“I hope you didn’t mind me jumping in there,” he said to me.
“No, no. It’s fine. Thank you, in fact.”
“For what?”
Good question.
“Selling the cake, I guess?”
Ryan shrugged, smiling. “All I know is they taste great.”
“Thanks,” Sophie and I both said in unison.
I shot her a sideways look. Geez, it was like we were the Ryan Jones fangirl club over here.
“Well, I gotta go. Thanks for the coffee, Soph.”
“Any time,” she cooed.
He glanced at me, raising his chin. “See you ’round, Bailey.”
“See you ’round,” I echoed. I watched as he walked out of the café and onto the street, trying not to notice how cute he looked as he walked away.
I let out a sigh. I guess that was just another weird exchange in the Ryan-Bailey show.
“Tell me about your pact.” Sophie interrupted my reverie.
“My what?”
“You know, the thing where you and Paige and the other girls all agreed to date men or something?”
“Oh, the Last First Date pact.”
“That’s the one.”
“Well, it’s designed to do what it says on the can—you marry the next guy you go on a date with.”
“Talk about putting the pressure on!”
“Yeah. I guess.”
If you could find someone you wanted to date in the first place, that was. Or, more appropriately, if you could find someone who wasn’t still messed up over their ex and actually kissed you while standing on your doorstep instead of just looking like he wanted to.
But maybe I was being too specific.
“Can anyone join?” Sophie asked.
“I guess. I didn’t make up the rules. I think you’d need to talk to Cassie, or maybe Paige?” I focused my attention on rearranging the cabinet food.
Sophie nodded, a smile forming on her face. “I’ll do that. I think I know who I might choose, too.”
I snapped my head in her direction. She had a cloth in hand and had set about cleaning the coffee machine.
I watched her, thinking. Would she choose Ryan? She certainly seemed to get a little, I don’t know, “girly” when he was here. I pressed my lips together.
Hmm. A lot like me.
My eyes drifted out the window to the people walking by. I wondered if I’d ever know why Ryan visited me at home that day—and whether he was actually going to kiss me.
Or, much likelier, if it had all been a figment of my overactive imagination.
Chapter 10
“WOW, GIRLS. THIS LOOKS amazing!” Cassie’s eyes welled up with tears.
Paige, Cassie, Will, and I were sitting at a table in the closed café. Paige and I had just finished presenting our catering ideas to Cassie and Will for their wedding, and Cassie quite clearly liked what we had suggested. Will simply smiled at us.
“So, you like it?” Paige asked.
“Like it? I love it.” She leant over the table and collected Paige in a watery hug before turning her attention to me.
“This is going to be such a beautiful wedding,” I said into her thick auburn hair.
“I won’t get all emotional and hug you, because, you know, I’m a guy. But thanks,” Will said with his cheeky grin.
When Cassie pulled away, her tears had spilled over. Paige offered her a tissue, which she accepted, muttering her thanks as she sat back down at the table next to her fiancé.
She turned to Will. “What do you think?”
“Burgers and fries? Total man-feast. Who knew I could get a girl to agree to that for our wedding?” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into him.
“It’s more than just burgers and fries, you know,” Cassie said.
“Okay, fancy burgers and fries. Better?”
Cassie laughed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “Men.”
“What?” Will protested.
It was true. They’d opted for burgers and fries for the main meal, but they weren’t your everyday, run of the mill variety. No way. We were doing grass-fed beef burgers with aioli, beet relish, and arugula on a ciabatta bun. The fries were garlic sweet potato and parsnip.
See? Fancy.
“So, the dinner is exactly what we want. What about the cake?” Cassie asked.
“Well, I have some ideas on that front.” I turned Paige’s laptop around and searched through the files until I found the document I’d prepared earlier. I pulled the file up and swung the laptop back so it was facing the happy couple. “What do you think?” I beamed at them, hoping they’d think my idea was the stroke of genius I did.
After all, if there was one thing I knew in this life, it was cake.
Men? Not so much.
I watched their faces in expectation as they studied the image on the screen. Will’s face broke into a broad grin.
Cassie’s did not.
Her eyes darted from the image to Will and then to me.
“What is it, Cassie? You don’t like it?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, I do.” Will leaned back in his chair. “What’s not to like?”
“Cassie?” I raised my brows.
“I don’t know, Bailey.” She shrugged. “The fruit flavor will be amazing, exactly what we wanted, but the shape of it? I guess it doesn’t feel very wedding-y, you know? I mean, it’s a golf ball.”
“Exactly. Like the way Will proposed to you at the golf driving range,” Paige said. “You know, with the ring in the golf ball. We thought it would be totally cute.”
Cassie shrugged. “I appreciate the thought, but I think I’d like something more traditional. Tiered, maybe?”
I guessed we’d missed the mark.
“We can do that, right, Bailey?” Paige said.
“No problem. Tiered it is. If you’re not incredibly happy, then we’re not doing our job right.” I glanced at Paige.
Cassie nodded, the tension disappearing from her features.
“All right. We’re on it,” I said.
“Well, we’d better get going.” Cassie pushed her chair out from the table.
“Are you coming to the Cozy Cottage Jam later?” Paige asked.
“Actually, we’re going to be a little late for it this week. We’re meeting up with the owners of The Windsor Inn.” Cassie’s face glowed.
The Windsor Inn was an old home that had been made into a gorgeous wedding venue. I’d been to a couple of weddings there myself over the years and loved the way they held the weddings outside under a wisteria-lined pergola in an English country garden, complete with a pond and a little bridge. It was very romantic.
“Such a nice spot, you two,” Paige said.
“I know, right? We’re excited.”
“Well, you are. I’m still thinking about the burgers and fries,” Will added.
I walked over to the front door, unbolted it, and let Cassie and Will out. “Have a great evening. We’ll get some more cake designs to you early next week.”
“I know you’ll do an amazing job.” Cassie gave me a hug goodbye.
After the golf ball cake disaster, I wasn’t so sure.
“Let’s stick with traditional,” I said as Paige and I waved t
hem goodbye and locked the door.
“I was sure they would go for the golf ball.”
“Well, one of them did.”
“Right. I suppose we’d better set up for the Jam night.” Paige walked around the counter toward the kitchen. “Unless you have a hot date with He Who Shall Not Be Named.”
I rolled my eyes. “No, I don’t.”
“Really? I was sure he was going to ask you out.”
I shook my head as I followed her into the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator and began to collect ingredients. “Paige, all that happened was he dropped by my house one day after work. We had a drink, he left. End of story.”
Although Ryan had been in the café a handful of times since then, he’d been nothing but pleasant and chatty.
“And anyway, he hasn’t been here much lately. He’s clearly not interested in me.”
“But the fact he dropped by your place, totally out of the blue like that, has to mean something.”
With ingredients in my arms, I closed the door behind me with my foot. “Yes, it does mean something. It means he was in my neighborhood so dropped by.”
She shook her head, her eyes dancing. “He’s going to ask you out. I just know it.”
I placed my items on the counter and turned to face her. “Paige!” I was getting sick of this now.
She put her hands up in the surrender sign. “All right. I’ll drop it. But if he doesn’t ask you out soon, I’ll be surprised. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. That’s all I’m saying.”
* * *
Friday Night Jams at the Cozy Cottage were a lot of fun—and a lot of work. We were fully booked most Fridays these days, and we needed to get extra staff in to help out. We served basic meals, such as toasted sandwiches or lasagna and salads, and we’d got our license to serve beer and wine. Although I had to admit, sometimes I cursed it when tone deaf singers got Dutch courage from one too many on our open mic nights. #Screechingcats
Luckily, tonight was not an open mic night. Instead, we’d gotten a local act we’d had once or twice before, a folk singer whose music was gentle and melodic. Just what I needed after a long week.
I was behind the counter serving a customer when Marissa and Cassie turned up, excited looks on their faces.
“Thank you so much. We’ll bring that over to you when it’s ready.” I handed the customer his receipt and a number in a metal holder shaped like a cupcake on top of a pole. Very appropriate for our cake-focused café.
I turned my friends. “What has you two so amped?”
“Remember that guy from the speed dating? The one with the flicky hair?” Cassie asked.
“He thought he was God’s gift to women,” Marissa added with a roll of her eyes.
“Oh, you mean Fake Jamie, the guy who claimed he was famous in England.”
“That’s the one,” Cassie said.
“What about him?” Fake Jamie hadn’t entered my mind since the evening of the speed dating disaster. Which was exactly the way I liked it.
“He’s here,” they both said in unison.
“Here? Well, that’s fine.” I scanned the room, looking for a guy who looked like a Bee Gees wannabe. I spotted him at one of the tables, talking with a redhead, looking just the way he had the evening of the speed dating—too smooth, very impressed with himself.
Guys like him left me cold.
“But, ugh.” Marissa pulled a face.
I laughed. “It is a free country, you know.”
“The question is why is he here? Did you tell him this was your café?” Cassie was concerned.
I thought back to our four-minute “date” and all I could recall was his sleazy lines and his claim he was too famous to find love. “I don’t think so. But really, it’s fine. He moved on to that blonde woman at the next table. He’d have completely forgotten about me within about two seconds flat.”
Cassie shrugged. “Maybe.”
The evening progressed as it usually did, with me, Paige, Sophie, and a couple of our part-time workers run off our feet. The place was packed, and people seemed to be having a good time.
Cassie and Will were on a double date with Marissa and Nash, sitting at a table near the counter. I was pouring out a couple of glasses of Pinot Gris when I noticed Josh walk through the door. I smiled at him and he smiled back.
I corked the wine bottle and put it back in the wine refrigerator we’d had installed under the counter. When I looked back up, Josh had pulled a chair up at Cassie and Marissa’s table and there was another man standing next to him, with his back to me.
I tried to play it down, but my heart rate kicked up a notch at the sight of him.
It was Ryan.
As if sensing my eyes on him, he turned and shot me a smile, raising his chin the way guys do. I smiled back at him, willing my heart to return to normal.
As I said, Ryan Jones is bad for my cardiac health.
“Err, how much is that?” the woman I had been serving asked.
I dragged my eyes from Ryan back to her. “Oh, sorry. I got distracted. That’s twenty-three dollars, please.”
She handed over her credit card, and I completed the transaction. After she’d gone, I stole another glance at Ryan. He was now sitting down, sandwiched between his sister and Josh.
Paige nudged my arm, nodding in his direction. “Tonight could be the night, you know. He’s looking super cute, don’t you think?”
I shook my head, ignoring her comment. Really, it was time she moved on, just like Ryan had. If in fact he’d had anything to move on from.
“I’ll be right back.” I walked around the counter, past a handful of tables, and out through the door that led down a hallway to the bathrooms. With the door back into the café closed, I leant up against the wall and closed my eyes. I needed a breather, and this was as good a place as any.
Within about ten seconds, the door from the café swung open and the hallway was instantly filled with music. I opened my eyes to see Fake Jamie walking toward me.
I pushed myself off the wall to face him.
“Hello, babe,” he said in his thick accent.
“Hi.” I forced smile. I wasn’t his “babe,” but he was a paying customer tonight, so I wasn’t going to point it out. “Are you having a fun evening?”
“Yeah. Top place you got here.”
“Thanks.”
“I, ah, I looked for you, the other night. At the speed dating thing.” He put his hand on the wall beside me. He was a big, solid guy, and took up most of the width of the hallway.
I began to feel uncomfortable. “Oh, yes. I had to go. Did you . . . did you get any second dates?”
I really didn’t want to know the answer. I just wanted to get back to the café.
“Not from the lady I wanted one from.” He moved his body closer to mine.
I caught a whiff of his cologne as I took a step back, banging up against the wall. I was well and truly cornered—and I didn’t like it one little bit.
“That was you, babe, in case you were wondering.”
“Okay, yes, gotcha. I guess we didn’t get that connection they went on about that night, right?” I cleared my throat, pushing down my rising panic. “Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I have customers to serve.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, fixing me with his gaze. I think it was meant to be sexy.
It wasn’t.
“I feel a pretty strong connection to you right now, Cointreau.”
I chewed my lip. I remembered he thought I was named after a bottle of alcohol. I didn’t bother to correct him.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t. And I need to get back to my café. So, if you wouldn’t mind?” I eyed his hand, pressed against the wall above my shoulder.
He leant in closer to me. I could smell the garlic on his breath. “How about a little kiss before you go, then?”
“No thank you.”
He reached up with his free hand and touched my face.
I recoiled from
him, barely believing what was happening. “I said no.”
And then I saw red.
In a flash of anger, I pushed him out of the way, the element of surprise working in my favor. I rushed down the hallway, only for him to grab me by the arm. I whipped my head to look at him. “Let me go.”
The door swung open toward us, the music pouring into the narrow hallway once more. I snapped my head to see who it was, and looked up into Ryan’s face.
His eyes darted from me to Fake Jamie and back again. “Everything okay here?” Concern was written across his handsome face.
I looked back at Fake Jamie and tugged my arm away from him with force. “I was just leaving.” Despite my shaking limbs, I shot Fake Jamie a pointed “don’t mess with me” look.
“Yeah, me too, mate,” he spat. “You’re welcome to her.” Fake Jamie pushed past me. “Frigid bitch.”
My jaw dropped as he let the door swing closed behind him. I let out a sigh of relief, slumping against the wall.
“You sure you’re okay?” Ryan asked, his voice only just loud enough to be heard over the music.
I nodded, biting my lip, not trusting my voice to speak. To my utter mortification, tears stung my eyes.
“You’re not okay.”
“No, I am. He was just persistent, that’s all.” I could still feel the tight grip of his hand on my arm, smell his cologne, the garlic on his breath. I rubbed my arm, taking a few deep breaths to calm my nerves.
“And you didn’t want him to be persistent, right? I mean, you don’t like that guy?”
My eyes bulged. “No!”
A shadow moved across his face, his jaw locked. “Got it.”
He turned on his heel, swung the door open, and stomped across the café floor. I followed, pausing in the doorway. Ryan reached Fake Jamie’s table where he had already sat down with his date. From my position, I could tell words were being exchanged, Fake Jamie standing up to face Ryan, an angry scowl on his face.
As much as it felt pretty darn amazing to have my honor defended by Ryan, I rushed over to them. The last thing we wanted was a couple of guys squaring off for a fight in the café. Not good for business.
Four Last First Dates Page 8