by Sofia Grey
“Yes.” It was an effort, but I left it and sampled the next. The pineapple was too muted, and overwhelmed by coconut. I explained my thoughts to Deanna and moved on.
Overall, four of the cakes were good, so we set about scaling up the ingredients, to make the actual layers. The remnants of the half-eaten cupcakes taunted me, and I averted my gaze. Deanna picked at them and made her own tasting notes, but her palate wasn’t as developed as mine. Either that, or I was a control freak about my work.
The smell of baking cake drifted around the kitchen, and my stomach growled. I was so hungry. Deanna was busy mixing a batch of icing for the cupcakes, and that left me alone with the remnants of our tasting batches.
Think of Bruce’s wedding. Think of the dress you plan to wear. I visualized myself slim and beautiful—the woman I wanted to be. My stomach grumbled some more. I had to eat something. Turning my back on temptation, I strode to the fridge and yanked the door open. Nothing low calorie, low fat, or low sugar. Nothing diet-friendly. A herbal tea would keep me going. Or a huge quad-shot latte, or a cappuccino with cinnamon dusted over the foam. I’d be drooling in a moment.
I had to get out of here. I grabbed my jacket and purse, told Deanna I’d be back soon, and dashed outside.
Chapter Three
It was clearly my day for unfortunate meetings. Mr. Gorgeous, and then Elaine, and now Nick Parrish.
He was entering one of the many cafés in this part of the city as I tried to walk past. “Caitlin. Great timing. Do you have ten minutes?”
He was my newest customer. I couldn’t say no.
I followed him into the French-themed café, my mouth watering at the sight of the patisserie. I’d been heading for the supermarket with the intention of buying some fruit, and now I had to sit here and stare at cream slices and almond croissants?
Nick ordered a mochachino and asked what I wanted. I tried to say chamomile tea—I did, really—but it came out sounding more like mochachino. How did that happen? I trailed behind him to a table, knowing that if he offered me a slice of mille-feuille, all razor-thin pastry and whipped cream, I’d say yes. God. I was so weak.
He smiled at me over the table and gestured toward the plate, to the array of petit fours he’d selected. “I’m glad I saw you,” he said. “I’m so pleased you could take my order. This party has been booked for weeks, but my P.A. left at short notice, and I’ve been scrambling to pull the details together. Your assistant said you were on holiday.”
“It’s not a problem.” Come on, Caitlin. Be professional. “It’s your wife’s birthday, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and she adores your cupcakes. She has no idea I booked your catering.” Nick slid the plate toward me. “I recommend the mille-feuille.”
The chance of me saying no was as likely as an iceberg floating in a frozen ocean in the depths of hell. I licked away the powdered sugar that clung to my lips, and hated myself.
I managed to get through the impromptu meeting. I knew Nick from my days working in IT. Our paths crossed when I project managed the implementation of a new accounting system for Parrish Insurance. He was a lovely guy and besotted with his wife. One day I’d find a man who loved me as much as he did her.
****
It was almost dark when I arrived back at my little rental cottage, but the rain had stopped, and the gale was reduced to a stiff breeze. I was starving—my usual state—but more determined than ever to be strong. The lettuce, cucumber, and tomato salad I planned for dinner would be delicious, and if I got my act together, I could go for a quick jog while there was some daylight left.
So much for that plan.
In the time it took to change into my exercise clothes and sneakers, the light disappeared from the beach. Running on the sand would be a dumb idea. I could go on the road, though. That was well lit and quiet at this end of the village. When I thought of all the cake I ate today, to say nothing of the mochachino, I had to move my ass.
Remembering my disastrous effort this morning, I decided to take it slow this time. I’d walk for a minute, jog for thirty seconds, and repeat until I reached the end of the road. If I was completely exhausted, I could walk back. It sounded sensible and doable, and I was filled with a surge of optimism. Not only would I be slim when Bruce saw me next, but I’d also be toned and fit. Take that, Pammy. I visualized her sharp face and swinging blonde ponytail, and imagined how she’d feel when Bruce told her he was still in love with me.
The walk-jog rhythm was okay for the first couple of iterations. Then somewhere behind me, I heard a woof.
Holy fuck. What if it was the girl with the giant dogs? My heart lurched, and I tried for a burst of speed. Next thing, I stubbed my toe on something and stumbled. The pavement was hard and knocked the air from my lungs, but that wasn’t the worst of it. Another woof sounded, closer, and the hound caught up with me. I knelt there, helpless and petrified, not daring to move. Dogs freaked me out. What if it chased me?
I shrieked. “Go away. Please leave me alone.” The words all ran into each other, but the dog stared into my face. Its mouth was open, huge teeth on show, and it shook its head, collar jingling.
“Gwen. Gwen. Come here.” Footsteps clattered toward me. “Naughty girl. Heel.” A hand closed around the dog’s collar and yanked it back. “I’m so sorry,” said the woman who towered over me. “Are you okay? She won’t hurt you. She’s over-friendly, but that’s all.”
I was perilously close to tears and didn’t trust myself to speak. I’d wait until the dogs left before I tried to move.
The woman made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Let me help you up. I’ll get my brother to take the dogs. They’re his, after all.” She turned on her heel. “Jas. Jas. Give me a hand, please.” Her voice rang out, and my embarrassment level rocketed.
“I’m fine,” I whispered.
“Nonsense,” said the woman. She sounded young, maybe my age. “I insist you come inside for a minute, while you get your breath back. We live right here.”
“Wassup?”
Oh no. I knew that voice. Smooth and sexy, it belonged to Mr. Gorgeous. As if I hadn’t been embarrassed enough today.
More footsteps approached, along with the click of a walking cane. “Hey. We meet again. What happened?”
I hung my head. I’d wait for them to leave, and then go back to my cottage. Crawl if I had to.
“Gwen happened. Will you take the girls, please?” The conversation continued over my head. “Come on, let’s get you inside.” The woman looped her hands under my elbows. “Can you lean on me?”
I found myself hauled upright, and I took a deep breath. “I’m fine. Really.”
The guy held the dog leads easily in one hand, and now the beasts were a few feet away, I felt safer. “Maybe you are,” he said, his voice sending delicious tingles down my spine, “but it’s my turn to offer you a drink, and Holly won’t be satisfied until she’s made sure you’re not hurt.”
“I don’t like dogs,” I blurted. “I mean, I’m scared of them.”
“No worries. I’ll put them in the yard. And then I’ll make some tea, and we can all introduce ourselves.” The guy—Jas?—led the dogs away, and I stared, unsure how to react.
“Now let me help you.” The woman didn’t look as though she’d take no for an answer, and arguing would take more energy than I could summon, so I went with her. I’d stay five minutes and not a second longer.
Chapter Four
It was only a few yards to their house, and I followed her through a hallway and into a spacious lounge. Behind us, the guy talked to his dogs, and then a door closed. I was shivering, probably from delayed shock. I pulled my wits together as best I could.
“Did Gwen knock you over? I’m so sorry. I know they’re huge, but they’re harmless.” The woman’s cheeks were pink, and she looked embarrassed. She scooped a fluffy tabby cat from one of the armchairs. “Here. Sit down. You’re not allergic, are you?”
“No. I like cats.” I reached out one ha
nd to the furball, and she delicately sniffed my fingers.
“This is Tabitha. I’m Holly.” She turned at the sound of footsteps. “And this is my brother, Jasper.”
It suited him. My angel-faced rescuer looked slightly exotic, albeit tired, with bruise-like shadows under his eyes.
I remembered my manners. “Caitlin. And I think I tripped. It wasn’t your dog’s fault.”
Jasper gazed at me. “Did you say you’re scared of them? You mean my mutts, or all dogs?”
I liked that he didn’t patronize me or minimize my fear. “Dogs in general. I had a bad experience as a kid, and never liked them after that.”
“I’m sorry mine upset you.” He gave his sister the side-eye. “Holly’s not so good at keeping them under control, but I can’t walk far enough yet to exercise them.”
“Maybe because they weren’t well trained to start with?” Holly sounded as though she was teasing. I got the impression this was an argument they’d had before.
“Anyway. Would you like some coffee? Or a glass of wine?” Holly smiled.
I prepared to refuse her and make my escape, but then Jasper spoke. “Any of that chamomile tea left, Hol?”
Her eyebrows shot up into her thick fringe. “I’ll check. I thought you hated that now.”
“Caitlin might like it.”
Both of them looked at me, and my longing to retreat weakened. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Sit down, please,” said Jasper when Holly left the room. “I hate herbal teas because my evil ex was always drinking them.” He shrugged. “Bad breakup. So why are you scared of dogs?” He probably wanted to be sure I wasn’t going to make a complaint about him or something.
Was I going to tell him? I’d already looked like an idiot twice in front of him today. I might as well go for a hat trick.
He shifted position, as though uncomfortable, and I felt guilty for keeping him standing.
I sank into the chair vacated by Tabitha, and tried not to watch Jasper as he eased into a deep, leather recliner. What happened to him? Good manners forbade me from asking.
“So,” he said. “Dogs.”
“I was five years old, and we were on holiday. Camping. The people in the next tent had a German Shepherd, and it was mental. It barked at everyone.” My heart beat faster, just with remembering it. “The dog slipped off its leash and chased me across the field.” I pulled a funny face, forcing myself back into my role of Caitlin-the-comedian. “Not being melodramatic, but I thought I was going to die.” I gave a little shrug. “Needless to say, I survived.”
Jasper’s eyebrows dipped into a frown, his gaze intent on me. “That would be enough to put anyone off dogs for life. Was there nobody with you?”
My fake smile was hard to cling to. “My brothers, but they were useless.” They hollered and whistled from our tent, and laughed at me.
“That sucks. You couldn’t have known running would encourage it to chase you.”
His sympathy made my chest warm, and I basked in the moment. It was fleeting. The door opened, and Holly returned, three mugs in her hands.
“Chamomile with peppermint. Is that okay?” She held out a drink to me, and I took it with a murmured thank you. “I bought these,” she continued, “to help me sleep. It’s supposed to be a soothing blend, but it doesn’t work on me.”
I cast around for something intelligent to say but came up short.
Holly smiled at me over the top of her mug. She was very pretty, like a tawny, curvy version of Jasper. “My boyfriend is in the army, and it gets stressful when he’s deployed.”
“It must be. Is he abroad now?”
“Only for the month. He’s on a training exercise in Germany. That’s better than being deployed to Afghanistan or Iraq.”
It was sweet, how her face lit up when she spoke about her boyfriend. Was I ever so enthusiastic about a guy? Even besotted as I was with Bruce, there was always the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the joke to be over.
“I should have asked,” continued Holly. “How do you guys already know each other? Jas knows most everyone who lives at the beach.”
Awkwardness beckoned. Would Jasper tell his sister about finding me like a beached whale? “Nah,” he said. “We only bumped into each other this morning. Caitlin’s staying in one of Sam’s cottages.”
A smile danced across Holly’s face. “Sweet. So you know, that’s how I met Zack—my boyfriend. Gwen and Lily knocked him over on the sand. Poor guy was looking for some peace and quiet, and they literally ran into him.”
“Talking of running... I was serious about giving you training tips,” said Jasper, and I froze.
How to say no without offending him? “I’m only here for two weeks.”
His dark gaze never left mine. “That’s perfect for embedding a routine.”
“I have to go out tomorrow. I’ll be out most of the day.”
“First thing, then. His lips twitched.
Jesus. I had enough of being the butt of people’s jokes. “I appreciate the offer, but I have to ask. Why are you so keen to do this? What’s in it for you?”
His face shuttered, the light disappearing from his eyes. “Honestly? I’m sick of being a gimp. I need to feel useful again.”
When he put it like that, how could I refuse?
Chapter Five
This was it. Official confirmation I’d gone insane. What other reason could explain why I left the warmth of my cottage at seven in the morning, dressed in sports gear? It was daylight, but only just, due to the heavy-hanging clouds. At least it wasn’t raining.
Yeah, right. As soon as I walked out from under the overhang, my hair was damp with drizzle. It was like a fine mist today, the kind that’d get me wet very quickly.
Perhaps Jasper wouldn’t bother?
I didn’t stay much longer yesterday evening. I agreed to meet him here, finished my tea, and left. If I was lucky, Jasper would think better of his rash idea, and I could go shower, before heading into the city. I needed to assemble the rum-punch birthday cake, and then ice and decorate it. Deanna was more than capable of icing the thirty-odd cupcakes, and we had a special snap-together frame for assembling the cupcake mountain—one of my specialty range. Like a set of rigid plastic straws, it gave the mound of tiny cakes stability, and held them together. It would take us most of the day, but I’d be back here in the evening, no doubt starving again.
My stomach rumbled at the mere thought of food, and I gritted my teeth. Exercise first, if Jasper was here.
“Hi.” His rich voice greeted me, and I spun around to see him leaning against the handrail for the steps. He wore a lightweight rain jacket, a knit cap pulled low on his forehead. He flashed a smile at me and nodded. “Good. You’re ready for warm up?”
“I can’t stay long.”
“We don’t need long. Fifteen minutes is enough to start with, if you’re not used to exercise.”
I picked my way down the steps, feeling more uncomfortable by the second. Even with his loose-fitting jacket, Jasper was thinner than me, and I felt a wave of despair. Would I ever be slim? It seemed as distant a possibility as climbing Everest. Maybe I should give up this stupid quest and accept myself as I was. In a body I loathed.
I lifted my chin and met Jasper’s gaze. “Do your worst.”
“Any pre-existing conditions I should know about? Asthma?”
“No, and no.”
“Stretches first,” he said. “Have you ever done yoga?”
“No.”
He didn’t seem fazed, just showed me a few simple arm stretches and the same for my legs. Then I shook them out, and under his direction, marched briskly on the spot, swinging my arms as I went. I felt silly, but he was taking it seriously.
“Good,” he said. “Damp sand is perfect to exercise on. It cushions your steps like grass does, and is much kinder on your joints than the roads would be.” He pointed to a pile of driftwood, a hundred metres or so away. “March there, like you’ve been doi
ng, and keep your pace even. Turn in a large circle and come right back.”
Marching? Not even jogging? I could do this. I swung wild arcs with my arms and made a good pace to the driftwood. When I turned though, I was going against the wind, and it was harder to catch my breath. I slowed down, then felt angry and sped up. Jasper leaned on his stick, his focus on me. I couldn’t see if he was bored or amused.
I was wasting his time and mine. I had better things to do, like building up my business in the mornings and hiding in my apartment every evening.
My cheeks burned when I stopped at his side, and I worked hard to pretend I was breathing normally.
“Okay,” he said. “How did that feel?”
“Fine. Look, Jasper, I don’t want to impose on you.”
“You’re not,” he said, before I could continue with my halting apology. “I told you why I want to do this. So let’s repeat the exercise but adding some weight.”
I almost laughed aloud. I was carrying enough weight already. When he pulled two small barbells from his pocket, I frowned. He was serious.
“One in each hand,” he said cheerfully. “These are one kilo—the smallest I have. Continue to swing your arms, but in a controlled movement this time, in rhythm with your steps. And go a bit slower but keep it steady. Okay?”
I closed my hands around the rubber grips. They weren’t too heavy. “Okay.”
He nodded.
With the breeze at my back, it was easier to keep a constant pace, and I was ready for the turn and the harder return journey. By this time, the weights felt like lead, and my arms were tired. My chest was tight, and my heart galloped, but I wasn’t giving in.
“Good,” he said, when I returned. “How did that feel?”
I started to say fine, but then paused. “The weights felt heavy, as I came back.”
He nodded. “Your breathing is good, though. One last time, for this session?”
“Okay.” I focused on keeping my pace steady, even though I was getting tired. Christ. I couldn’t walk five hundred yards without wanting to stop. Perhaps I was overheating in my long-sleeved fleece? I stripped it off when I made the turn, without breaking step. At the other end of our circuit, Jasper watched me, a lone figure with sand swirling around his feet.