All’s Fair In Love and Cupcakes

by Betsy St. Amant

  Was that a yes or a no?

  He waited, sensing he shouldn’t push. Or speak at all. Or maybe not even breathe. He hated when women didn’t play by the rule book. He’d expected excitement, maybe happy tears, or a little shriek of joy. Something. Even her getting offended by his offer would be better than this mysterious silence, broken only by the faint sounds of Dean Martin drifting from the radio.

  Just when he thought he was going to have to change the station to country, she sat up. “This is a big deal.”

  She had no idea. This venture was costing him a lot more than cash.

  He reached over and took her hand where it rested on the gearshift—no, where it was clenched in a death grip around the gearshift. He threaded his fingers through hers, raised their linked hands to his mouth, and pressed a kiss against the back of her hand. “I know.”

  “I mean, so big that I can’t give you an answer right now.” She shook her head again, her hair swishing against her scarf. “I need to think about it. Pray about it. I’m just . . . overwhelmed.”

  So was he. But she’d say yes. Once she got over the shock and realized he was offering her a one-way ticket to her dreams, she’d be on Google Maps faster than he could say cupcake.

  Speaking of . . .

  He let go of her hand and unzipped his jacket pocket, where he’d stored the gift he’d been carrying around for days, waiting for the right moment to give it to her. “You know how you always tease me about never being able to pull off a surprise or keep a secret?”

  “Only because you threw me a surprise party last year for my birthday and included me in the guest list.”

  “Well, surprise.” He reached into his pocket and let the gift inside drop down and dangle between his fingers. The cupcake necklace they’d seen while window-shopping in LA.

  “Lucas! How did you—when did . . . ?” She broke off with a surprised little laugh.

  There was the smile he’d been hoping for. “Went back and got it while you were trying on shoes.”

  “Shoes?” She stared blankly, as if racking her brain for the memory to fill in the gaps. “Oh, that night on Main Street? Those pink open-toed pumps?”

  “Uh, sure.” Whatever they were, they’d looked good on her. “I whispered to the sales clerk to keep you distracted with boots until I got back from down the street. Worked like a charm—no pun intended.”

  He undid the clasp on the necklace and motioned for her to twist around. She turned in the seat, removing her scarf and lifting her hair, and he fought the urge to plant a kiss on the back of her neck as he latched the chain.

  “Thank you.” The words whispered from her lips as she straightened in her seat, reaching up to pat the charm hanging over the top of her sweater.

  “I hope it reminds you of the good parts of the trip.” There had been some, despite it all.

  “It already does.” The wistful smile she offered made his stomach tighten. He had to get out of this car before he did something foolish, like retract his offer to send her away.

  Or push her up against the panel of the car door and kiss her until reality meshed with his hopes.

  “I can’t believe you made cupcakes.” Rachel hip-bumped Kat out of the way of the sink and rinsed her hands free of vegetable shavings.

  “You can’t believe a cupcake chef made cupcakes for a party celebrating her TV debut on a cupcake show?” Kat deadpanned, nudging Rachel back as her friend began lining the chopped veggies on a platter.

  “No, I can’t believe a girl who makes cupcakes for a living made even more cupcakes to feed a bunch of people coming over to watch her on a cupcake show, where she just made five hundred cupcakes and got humiliated—” Rachel broke off her own sentence. “You know what I mean.”

  Humiliated. That pretty much summed it up, even though no one at the viewing party would know the whole story except for her, Lucas, and Rachel. “No, I see your point.” Kat held up the plate of mini red velvets. “I think I just baked these on autopilot.”

  “I’m not saying they won’t get eaten.” Rachel plucked one of the minis from the plate and grinned, red-dyed crumbs oozing between her teeth.

  “Classy.” Kat laughed as she moved the desserts away from her friend and set them on the table in the dining room with the rest of the food. Everyone would be there soon—her entire family, Aunt Maggie, Lucas, the guys from the football team. Lucas had invited his good friend Darren, too, but he was on duty tonight.

  She should have made more food.

  She baked when she was nervous anyway, and thinking of everyone watching her lose on national television made her want to whip up a dozen cakes and a few hundred Snickerdoodles.

  “Have you decided yet?” Rachel brought the tray of veggies to the table, pausing to dab a carrot stick in the pool of ranch dressing. “About Lucas’s offer? Which, by the way, is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Romantic?” Kat snorted, snatching a celery stick from the platter and nibbling on the end. “I hardly think him offering to pay me to go away is romantic. He’s just being a friend—being Lucas.” Protector. Provider. No different than he was to anyone who ever depended on him, though.

  If he really loved her and wanted to pursue what had stirred between them in Los Angeles, he’d want her to stay. Wouldn’t he?

  He’d gotten her the necklace too . . . yet that could be a simple friendship gesture as well. The man was downright impossible to read these days. She used to know him better than the recipe for her favorite pumpkin scone cupcakes.

  The timing of it all just gave her a headache. She’d had that specific realization about her dreams and her future at the football game last week, prayed, and immediately after, was offered funding to do exactly what she’d always wanted to, interest-free. Was that a sign of an answered prayer or was it merely a temptation she was supposed to avoid?

  She wanted to accept. Badly—especially because Aunt Maggie had to sell Sweetie Pies and leave Kat potentially without a job. She wanted to take the loan and start a shop that would give her enough profit to pay Lucas back—and then some—and prove herself. Live her dream.

  But her dreams lately felt so hollow away from him.

  Just knowing he believed in her that fully filled a hole in her heart she hadn’t completely realized existed—at least not to that depth.

  Which sort of rivaled the bottomless pit in New Mexico’s Carlsbad Caverns.

  She grabbed a carrot stick, turning pleading eyes to her friend. “What do I do?”

  “That’s easy.” Rachel gestured with her own carrot, her expression serious. “You pass me a brownie.”

  “So helpful.” Kat handed over the plate of chocolate desserts. They did look therapeutic. She took one for herself.

  “I’m kidding. Actually, I’m not, I do want one.” Rachel grabbed one off the plate and took a bite before answering. “What’s the real debate here?”

  “I told you what happened at the game, the epiphany I had.” Kat nibbled on the side of her brownie, leaning her hip against the table laden with food. “I just don’t want to make the same mistake again. Don’t want to dive in to something that I’m trying to control or make happen, moments after I commit to God to stop doing exactly that.”

  “Well, sure. That’s a good thing to be cautious about.” Chocolate crumbs dropped from Rachel’s brownie to the floor as she pointed her finger at Kat. “But this isn’t you controlling it this time. You didn’t force Lucas to offer you thousands of dollars to invest in you or your business. You never even would have thought of asking.”

  “Of course not.” She still had no idea why Lucas even had that much money set aside, anyway. How could one person’s savings plan be that good?

  “I’m just surprised he can afford it, with him about to be buying that land and all.”

  The brownie bite lodged in Kat’s throat. “What land?”

  “The ten acres, with the old farmhouse on it—you know, that place off Highway 169.” Rachel stared
. “You didn’t know?”

  “How did you know?” The man who couldn’t keep a surprise a secret sure seemed to have a lot of them suddenly. How was this possible? And why wouldn’t he have mentioned it to her sooner? He’d always talked about wanting to plant deep roots in Bayou Bend and find somewhere to spread out. This was good news for him—so why the secret?

  It stung a little, to be honest.

  “You know Adam works at the bank.” Rachel’s husband. He’d probably processed the loan paperwork or handled something with the mortgage transfer on the property. Figured. Probably the whole town knew.

  She could ask them all in a minute. Ugh.

  It still seemed impossible for her to not have heard a word about this. “Lucas is buying land? Really?”

  “Uh-oh.” A mask of realization stretched across Rachel’s face. “Probably not now.”

  Huh? Not now?

  Then it hit her too.

  His investment.

  twenty-nine

  The episode was halfway over, the party in full swing, and all Kat could do was hide in the kitchen, load the dishwasher with all her mixing bowls and cooking utensils, and try not to think about how the last ten minutes of the episode would likely put a huge damper on the big get-together.

  If her own bad mood didn’t do it first.

  There had to be thirty people crammed into her living room. The football players, her family, a few people from her father’s church, Amy from Sweetie Pies and her boyfriend . . . they’d all turned out to watch her fail. Not that they knew it was coming, but surely they had an inkling by now. Her aunt was right—she wasn’t nearly in a good enough mood since returning from LA to be about to launch her dream.

  Lucas must have sensed the dark cloud of gloom over her head, because he kept hovering in the kitchen, stalling, asking questions like did she have more potato chips for the guys or taking ten minutes to get a glass of water for her dad, who was more than capable of getting it for himself and didn’t want that much ice anyway.

  No, Lucas wanted her to give him an answer, and now. Now? How could she? He was trading his dream for hers—yet sending her away at the same time.

  With so many mixed signals in that, she felt like a traffic cop.

  “Are you sure you don’t need help?” He was practically pacing in front of her sink, his shoes tripping over the edges of the floor rug.

  “No, I’ve got all this.” She waved her hand at him in dismissal, avoiding eye contact, afraid if she looked directly at him she would explode.

  Turn down his offer.

  Or worse—accept it.

  Should she? If he didn’t have any intentions for them if she stayed . . . why stay? If he was willing to send her away, if she wasn’t going to have a job in Bayou Bend anyway . . .

  No, it wasn’t right. It just didn’t feel good in her stomach.

  Neither did the fact that half the town was about to collectively watch her lose a baking competition on national television—losing while doing the only thing she was good at.

  Maybe God just wanted her at square one, with nothing.

  “I can’t believe my sister is a TV star.” Stella’s voice rose above the others mingling in the living room, and Kat paused at the dishwasher, tilting her head. Had she heard that correctly? “She looks great, doesn’t she?”

  A sincere compliment from Stella? In front of people?

  Who knew.

  She loaded another bowl into the bottom compartment of the dishwasher. Maybe she should get back in there after all.

  “Of course she does.” Aunt Maggie’s voice sounded above the din of the sudden car commercial blaring from the TV. “And what a cute apron too.” There was a slight pause, then the older woman’s tone turned borderline protective. “Though I do hope that Piper girl gets what’s coming to her.”

  They must have aired the scene with Piper ruining her decorations.

  She hadn’t been able to watch the majority of the episode with everyone, not after the first round, anyway. She made excuses about playing hostess and stayed out of the room, knowing she’d have to sit down after everyone left and watch/cry her way through it on her TiVo. Alone.

  She loaded a large spoon next, trying not to make any clanking sounds. The compliments and defense from her family were nice. More than nice—and more than a little shocking. Maybe she’d stressed herself into a different dimension.

  “Well, it’s for certain. She did us proud.”

  Kat stiffened, one hand in the dishwasher, the other reaching back into the sink for the pile of forks.

  That was her daddy’s voice.

  Tears welled. Her dad, proud? Of her baking? She swallowed hard, wishing he’d elaborate, yet somehow at the same time afraid he would and that in doing so the magic would somehow disappear.

  But the room remained silent, hushed even by a pause from the television, as if the technology itself recognized the validity of the moment.

  Her dad was proud of her. Her aunt and sister were complimenting her. All with sincerity.

  And they didn’t even know she could hear them. Did they talk about her like this any other times when she hadn’t been there? Had she just missed it somehow?

  Just when she thought she might explode with the possibilities and foreignness of it all, Lucas came up behind her and tugged her free of the dishwasher. He spun her around, her back pressed against the edge of the counter, and leaned in close, trapping any potential attempts of escape on her part.

  “I need an answer, Kat. I’ve been waiting for days and giving you space, but this is a big deal—you said it yourself. There’s a lot riding on your decision. So just make it already.” His mouth was inches from hers, his eyes sincere, and she wanted to kiss him so badly. Wanted to punch him in the stomach for even putting her in the position to have to choose.

  Wanted to lasso her dreams close and will them into existence.

  She closed her eyes briefly. God, I surrender. Again. All of this to you. She opened her eyes, fresh clarity filling her empty resolve tanks. The dream was nothing without the Dream Giver, and if she wasn’t following his steps for her life, then she didn’t want to walk at all.

  Somehow, she just knew those steps didn’t include leaving Bayou Bend right now. Not like this. Not with Aunt Maggie’s health declining and Kat’s options so limited. No, she’d lost the competition on Cupcake Combat for a reason, and while it was sweet of Lucas to try to save the day, this time she couldn’t allow it. Couldn’t depend on him.

  She already had a Savior.

  And it wasn’t Lucas.

  It was time to prove in whom her faith really lay and give Lucas’s shoulders a break from her burdens.

  “Oh, hush, everybody. It’s the final decision!” Stella’s voice sounded with excitement. The volume was cranked up, and suddenly Sam’s voice boomed from the living room, his final words blending with Kat’s as she looked at Lucas and said something she knew he would probably never understand.

  “The answer is no.”

  She’d turned him down.

  Lucas absently piled plastic cups on top of paper plates, compiling a small tower before tossing the lot of it in the trash. It was almost full, which hadn’t taken long with the number of people who had shown up to support Kat.

  A room full of people who loved her, and she’d almost missed it, almost missed the pride and sincerity in her parents’ eyes, the joy in her sister’s face, the pleasure in her aunt’s smile—all because of her jaded preconceptions.

  Was that what she was basing her decision on with him too?

  She hadn’t even said why.

  And his heart couldn’t decide if it was more disappointed or relieved.

  Everyone was gone now, after oozing condolences and assuring Kat she was still their favorite cupcake chef—next to Maggie—despite the loss. Kat had glowed under all the compliments, her icy wall of defense slowly thawing out as she basked in the warmth of their approval. Under the thank-yous, he saw the humility in her
heart, the surprise, the gratitude. She couldn’t be more grateful for their kind words.

  So why hadn’t they bothered to give them to her before now?

  Some puzzles took longer to solve than others, though, and right now, he just wanted to know why Kat had returned his puzzle without even taking the pieces out of the box.

  The answer is no.

  The words burned the back of his throat as he gathered another armful of trash. Was she staying in Bayou Bend and turning down his offer because that was what she wanted? Or because of pride? Or fear?

  Because of him?

  So now what? He was supposed to just buy the land anyway and move forward with his plans, like they hadn’t all revolved around Kat in the first place?

  He didn’t want his dream without her.

  It’d be more like a nightmare.

  So . . . they were both left with nothing? That hardly seemed fair. He guessed the old adage was pretty true after all. All’s fair in love and war.

  They’d certainly seen both in Los Angeles.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about your land?”

  Uh-oh. He turned to see Kat standing, hands on her hips, a sponge clenched between her fingers. Last he’d seen her, she’d been scrubbing at a stain on the floor under the table, effectively avoiding him as she’d done most of the evening. She must have found her courage under there, because the fire that sparked in her gaze looked like it had ignited off a long fuse.

  Darren had been right.

  “Kat, I didn’t mean to keep it from you. Not like that.” He leaned against the counter, hands up in surrender. “I didn’t want to say anything because it wasn’t final yet, and for a while, it looked like it wouldn’t be.” He couldn’t tell her the whole truth—that he’d intended for the land to be for them, that he couldn’t tell her about it without proposing at the same time.

  He shrugged, stalling. “Then my bid was accepted, and it snowballed pretty quickly.” And his agent had had a legal mess trying to get him out of the offer without penalty. They still hadn’t figured up all the details, and now, he wondered if he could undo the undo. Get his land back.