King of the Friend Zone (Power of the Matchmaker)

by Pratt, Sheralyn

  He had to be joking. “You like it?”

  Hunter looked at Miss Pearl like Esme was suddenly the one speaking broken English. “How much for all the cookies?”

  “Only one per customer,” Miss Pearl announced proudly.

  “No,” Hunter replied, dead serious as far as Esme could see. “I’m going to need more than that.”

  “Hunter, if you seriously like the cookie, you can have mine,” Esme said, holding hers out. Hunter’s hand darted out to grab it only to be slapped away by Miss Pearl.

  “One bite!” Miss Pearl demanded, her pint-sized frame warning Hunter away. “She tell me if cookie better than yesterday.”

  Hunter’s eyes fell on the cookie, looking oddly territorial. “One small bite. Then the blasphemer hands the cookie over peacefully.”

  Esme still couldn’t tell if he was being serious about liking the cookie, but there was only one way to find out. Slowly—and a bit self-consciously, since she had two pairs of eyes watching her very closely—Esme raised the cookie to her mouth and bit off a tiny corner.

  The wave of flavor that washed over her tongue couldn’t have come from such a tiny bite, and yet…

  “Oh, wow,” she heard herself say in the darkness, because apparently she’d closed her eyes to relish the full flavor of the tiny bite.

  What was she even tasting?

  Esme’s foodie training usually made her quite good at identifying what was hitting her palette but, like yesterday, she was drawing a blank. There were the usual suspects lingering there, of course. Sugar, salt, butter, cinnamon…but where was the taste of heaven coming from? What in the world was making her tongue throw a celebratory party?

  “Now hand it over!” Hunter demanded, and this time Esme really did guard the cookie.

  “No way,” she said, opening her eyes so she could see the enemy. “This is definitely a different recipe than yesterday. The two cookies aren’t even in the same stratosphere.”

  His hand stayed out. “You promised you’d give it to me after one bite.”

  “Rewind your memory, bro,” Esme said, clutching the cookie to her chest. “I made no such promise.”

  Suddenly Miss Pearl was standing between them, looking at Esme. “Better?”

  “Yes,” Esme said, nodding furiously. “Like, I don’t even know a superlative befitting this cookie. It’s amazing!”

  Miss Pearl nodded as if she expected as much before sending Hunter a pointed look. “And you? What do you say about the cookie?”

  “Lady, I would trade anything I own for this recipe. I swear if you don’t hook me up with an endless supply of these things, I’m going to spend the rest of my life dreaming about this moment and trying to relive its utter goodness.”

  Miss Pearl smiled. “Recipe is trade secret.”

  Uh-huh. Sure. Esme had no doubt the woman baked by feel and not by any actual recipe, which was why her cookies were so different from day to day. Tragic, really, that there was only one batch of such magnificence.

  Distracted by this realization, Esme took another bite and this time she was the one who let out a little moan. “My goodness…” she breathed, almost as if in prayer. The flavor certainly felt worthy of a prayer of gratitude for the gift of taste buds.

  Miss Pearl’s eyes darted down to the ring on Esme’s hand. “So,” she said, surprising her again with the choppy English. “Yesterday’s cookies bland and forgettable?”

  Esme flinched in embarrassment at the memory of saying as much. “Yes. Sorry, but yes. I mean, they weren’t bad. Just bland, like a vanilla wafer.” She held up the new cookie, careful to keep it out of Hunter’s reach. “But this? I don’t even have the vocabulary to describe this.”

  “Seriously,” Hunter begged. “What’s the price for a second cookie?”

  “One cookie per couple,” Miss Pearl repeated heartlessly.

  “But we’re not a couple,” Hunter said. “What if I get another girl and kiss her? Then do I get another cookie?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? You let Esme have two,” he bargained. “One yesterday, one today.”

  “Sorry. All out of cookies.”

  “No,” Hunter gasped, looking truly distraught.

  “Enjoy the moment,” Miss Pearl said, looking between the two of them. “Memorize flavor. Memorize how it feels. Maybe you find it again.”

  “Only in heaven,” Hunter muttered before taking the tiniest of bites and relishing it.

  As much as Esme wanted to tease him for it, she couldn’t, because she was too busy doing the same thing. Mrs. Fields needed to seriously watch out if Miss Pearl figured out how to replicate this recipe. It wouldn’t even take a year for these tasty bites to conquer the cookie world.

  “It really is excellent,” Esme gushed.

  Miss Pearl nodded, sending each of them a bit of an odd look before motioning for Esme to come closer.

  “Remember,” Miss Pearl said softly, her voice suddenly devoid of any accent and the broken grammar she’d been using since she called them over. “Some men throw away cookies when they turn out not to be expected, and some men cherish every bite.”

  Esme had no idea what the woman was talking about or why Miss Pearl was pretending not to know English very well in front of Hunter, but she tried for a diplomatic smile as she replied. “Different cookies, different responses, I guess.”

  Miss Pearl shook her head. “Only one ingredient different. The man.”

  Uh, okay. Whatever that meant.

  Esme was distracted from responding when she felt her cookie plucked out of her hand.

  “Hey!” she said, lunging in Hunter’s direction. “Give that back!”

  “I’m sorry, Ez, but this is the last cookie of its kind. If you want it, you must convince me that you deserve it.”

  Esme looked to Miss Pearl for backup that he should give the cookie back, but the small woman merely shrugged. “I’m afraid he is right. If you want it, you need to fight for it.”

  “Ha!” Hunter gloated and started away.

  Esme chased him all the way to his truck, where he finally gave her cookie back…minus one big bite.

  They leaned against his truck for the next ten minutes, luxuriating in tiny bites of cookie until no visible crumb remained. Then Hunter looked at her and frowned. “All gone.”

  “I know,” she sighed.

  He echoed her sigh. “They were the best cookies in the world, and they’re all gone.”

  “Tragic.”

  Hunter pushed away from his truck and pulled out his keys. “Where you off to now?”

  Esme checked the time. “To tell my parents and Grace the news.”

  “Nice,” he said. “I’m heading over to help Luke. Want me to tell him?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Text me the address. I’ll drop by if I can. It’ll probably be late, but feel free to fill him in.”

  “Will do,” he said, then they each got in their vehicles and went their separate ways.

  Chapter 4

  When Hunter pulled out of the parking lot, he didn’t head straight to Luke’s latest townhouse. He took a detour via his boxing gym.

  Daryl was there as well, gloved up and already doing bag work. Hunter nodded an acknowledgment before setting his bag on a bench and wrapping his hands.

  The percussion of Daryl’s hands pounding into the heavy bag joined the other sounds of the gym as men worked out all around them—the rapid slap of the speed bag against wood…the bark of a coach yelling instructions to a fighter in the ring…the slap of jump ropes against the floor.

  In a gym full of options, there was only one thing Hunter wanted to do. Today it was him and the bag.

  Pushing his wrapped hands into gloves, Hunter rolled his neck to loosen it up. It didn’t loosen. Like the rest of him, it was recoiling from the hit that had landed an hour ago.

  Esme was engaged. She was blissfully, happily engaged.

  Hunter had known this day was coming, but he’d thought he’d have more
warning when it actually did—that he’d be able to ease into the blow rather than having it clock him out of the blue. Instead, the revelation had hit his heart and mind at the same time, not giving either a head start to allow him to adapt. He felt harpooned. Of course his body was tense.

  Well, nothing released tension like exhaustion, and nothing channeled anger like punching. Two birds, one stone.

  Hunter stepped in front of the bag next to Daryl and started in with a series of jab-crosses to loosen up.

  Daryl glanced his way. “Are we okay with how everything played out today?”

  “Yep.”

  He let loose a few more punches and kept his eyes on the bag with Daryl’s next question. “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay.”

  Then they both got back to punching their bags.

  Chapter 5

  When Esme opened the door for her parents, Grace was pulling up behind their car in the driveway.

  Esme’s mom was too wired for even a simple “hello” and wasted no time getting to the point. “Okay. We’re here. What’s the news?”

  Her dad rolled his eyes as he stepped forward and pressed a kiss to Esme’s cheek. “She’s been like this since you called yesterday afternoon. Please put her out of her misery.”

  Esme laughed, returning the kiss to her father’s cheek before giving her mom the same greeting. “Only a few more minutes. Almost everyone’s here.”

  Her mom followed the direction of Esme’s eyes in time to see Grace step out of her car. “Oh, Grace is here, too? Honey, we haven’t seen her—”

  “—since her wedding. I know,” her father finished before wiggling his eyebrows. “How could I forget?”

  Esme decided to leave that comment alone as Grace started up her front walk. She looked nothing like her TV news reporter persona in jeans and a loose-fitting tank. She and Ash had only been married a few months, but Ash’s casual sensibilities were definitely wearing off on Grace. Esme honestly didn’t know if she’d ever seen two people better suited for each other. Grace had a perma-glow these days that warmed Esme’s heart.

  Witnessing firsthand that such a happy glow was possible on her friend had Esme’s heart double-timing at the thought of joining her friend in wedded bliss in the not-too-distant future. She could already see the endless double dates and occasional joined trips.

  She, Grace, and their husbands were going to have the time of their lives in the years to come.

  “Grace,” her mom greeted as Grace made it to the porch. “So wonderful to see you again.”

  “You, too, Mrs—”

  “Audra,” her mom corrected before Grace could even get the formality out. “I’ve told you a dozen times, call me Audra or Mom.”

  Grace grinned. “Okay, Mom.”

  Her mom beamed for a full second before her expression became serious and she gripped Grace’s hand. “Now do you know why we’re here?”

  “No clue,” Grace said, sending a questioning look Esme’s way. “But it’s gotta be big, right?”

  Her dad frowned. “You’re not moving, are you, Esme?”

  “No,” Esme said quickly, although when she thought about it that was kind of a lie. She would be moving into the city, eventually. “Come in. Sit down.”

  Right then her phone buzzed in her pocket with a text. A glance at the screen showed her it was from Jon. He was running late.

  “Are you pregnant?” her mom asked.

  “What?” Esme said, looking up from the phone in shock. “Mom. No.”

  “It bears asking,” her mom said, and Esme knew that she wasn’t going to make it until Jon arrived to break the news. She needed to do it now.

  “Come on in and sit down,” Esme said, motioning to where she had set up the food and drinks. “The sooner you sit, the sooner you’ll know.”

  Her mom was on the couch in the blink of an eye, bullying her dad to join her while Grace hung back and gave Esme a hug and a “hi” before walking over to join Esme’s parents.

  This was it. This was actually happening. The moment her mom found out about the engagement, things would get very real and go into insane mode overnight.

  She couldn’t wait. Well, maybe she could wait long enough to take a mental picture of three of her favorite people on the couch and watch her dad take note of the chilled champagne and pour everyone a glass while her mom squeezed Grace’s hand and whispered, “Champagne! We’re celebrating something!”

  Esme used the distraction to slip her engagement ring on and join them. She didn’t even make it half way to the couch before both Grace and her mom were back on their feet.

  “A ring?” her mom gasped. “A ring, Esme?”

  Grace was squealing and running at her with either the intent to hug or tackle. “I knew it!”

  “Wait, what?” her dad said. “What am I missing?”

  “Her left hand, honey,” Esme’s mom said. “She has an engagement ring!”

  Her dad squinted in confusion. “Doesn’t that usually come with a man?”

  “He’ll be here in about thirty minutes, Dad,” Esme said as Grace’s arms wrapped around her in a celebratory hug. “He’s running a little late, which is highly uncharacteristic. I promise.”

  His eyebrow arched up. “You’re engaged to the surgeon you mentioned last week? I thought you two weren’t that serious.”

  “Well, obviously they are,” her mom interrupted, edging Grace out for a hug of her own. “Oh my goodness, Esme! I simply can’t wait to meet this man.”

  “I’ve met him,” Grace beamed. “We’ve double dated a few times and he’s great—a bit more tame than what I always imagined for Esme, but we always have a great time.”

  “Tame is good,” her mom said, her eyes locked on the ring. “You don’t need a man who’s still working through his restless phase. And your fiancé clearly makes money. This is a gorgeous ring.”

  “He picked it,” Esme said. “He said I can trade it in for something else. We’re going to go looking tomorrow, but I think I might keep this one. He did a really good job.”

  “Yes, he did,” Grace said, joining her mother in its examination.

  “My girl has never had trouble attracting money,” her father said, looking a bit skeptical. “What I need to know is if this man of yours plans on taking care of your heart.”

  “Definitely, Dad,” Esme said without hesitation. “You’re going to love him.”

  “I’m sure I will,” her father said with a satisfied nod before sipping his champagne.

  “We need to do a toast!” her mom declared, holding up her glass. They all followed suit, her dad standing from the couch to join them.

  “To my baby girl and the man she is entrusting with her heart,” her father said, surprising her with his sentimentality.

  “To finding the person who transforms the term home into a person, not a place,” Grace added, although her smile faded at the end as if she questioned her word choice.

  “To my beautiful daughter finally finding a man worthy of her,” her mom said and Esme felt herself tear up.

  “To all those things,” Esme added, raising her glass. “And to the people I get to celebrate it all with.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” her mom said and there were nods of agreement as their glasses chimed together.

  After they all took sips, her father frowned. “I feel like something is missing. Shouldn’t Hunter be here?”

  “Oh, I told him a few hours ago,” Esme said. “I dropped by a fire station picnic and filled him in.”

  “You told him before you told us?” her mom balked.

  “That’s to be expected,” her father said gently. Her parents shared an odd look before her mom nodded.

  “Of course,” her mother said, smiling again. “And let’s face it, there is no better omen for Esme’s marriage than a man who has met Hunter’s approval.”

  Grace sent Esme a nervous look, visibly biting her tongue as she refrained fr
om correcting Esme’s mom.

  “Actually,” Esme said, owning up to the task. “Hunter hasn’t met him either. I kept putting it off, but you can bet I’ll be introducing them soon.”

  “I see,” her mom said before her parents shared yet another silent look.

  “Well, those things will all work themselves out,” her dad said, raising his glass again. “If you love this man, then that’s all that matters. Again, I can’t wait until we meet him.”

  “It won’t be long now,” Esme said, gesturing to the hors d’oeuvres she’d set out. “He’ll be a few more minutes. Until then, feel free to ask me anything you want to know until he arrives.”

  “Oh, that’s a plan I can get behind,” her mom said as she settled back into the couch. “First question: what kind of doctor is he?”

  Of course that would be their first question. “Cosmetic surgery.”

  Her mom bit her bottom lip. “As in…noses? Faces?”

  Esme shook her head, choosing not to tiptoe around the awkwardness. “Nope. Breasts.”

  Her dad arched his brow. “Does that bother you?”

  “Not at all,” Esme said, and meant it. “And no, I have no plans to go under the knife myself, in case that was your next question.”

  “Well, thank goodness,” her mom said. “Still there is no shortage of women who want them, so he’s got great job security.”

  “And he doesn’t bring his work home with him,” Grace added helpfully. “We’ve been on about six dates together and he’s never brought up work once.”

  “Smart man,” her dad muttered as Esme’s mom faced Grace.

  “You know my daughter better than most. Do you approve of Jon?”

  To Esme’s surprise, Grace faltered a bit before getting into the spirit. “Esme and Jon agree on everything. They like to eat the same things and mingle with the same crowds. I don’t know that I’ve seen two more compatible people.”

  Esme noticed that Grace had answered the question without answering the question.

  “But?” Esme prompted.

  Grace blinked at her in confusion. “But what?”

  “I hear a ‘but’ in there.”