LOL #2 Romantic Comedy Anthology - Volume 2 - Even More All-New Romance Stories by Bestselling Authors (LOL Romantic Comedy Anthology #2)

by Anthology

  Of course she was.

  She not only left me hanging and didn’t bring me the ingredients I needed, she’d known this over an hour ago and just now called.

  “Okay. Well, have a good time. Don’t ask me for a reference.”

  “What do you—?”

  I hung up on her because nothing good was going to come out of my mouth after that.

  And now, I had to make magic with no wand.

  THREE

  I would not panic. Nope. No panic.

  Who was I kidding? I was totally panicking.

  I had three hours’ worth of work now and one hour’s worth of time.

  I needed to go to the store, the oven needed to be finished and preheated, things needed to be chopped and prepped and mixed… and that was before I even started the actual baking part of the baking.

  Some super human powers would come in really handy right now. Marvel had made a movie out of everything else, why not Speed Baker?

  It wasn’t as if I could fake the dessert. Dalton Reddy was apparently a huge Bake America! fan and had all but rattled off half the process when he grabbed the phone from his assistant. I’d thought it was a practical joke before that, but apparently rock stars really did bring people in to make them special treats.

  I checked the time. It wasn’t like you could call ahead to a grocery store. But, if I left now to get everything, I’d never finish the rest of the prep work on time.

  I glanced out at the teenager manning the front counter. Cups were getting stacked, pastries set out in pretty arrangements, counters cleaned. Obviously she was on a counter-perfection mission before the masses were allowed in. It was a lot of work after a full day, but she was my only hope. Of course, I’d only been here twenty minutes and I was already a little afraid of her.

  “Hey, Abby. Any chance you’d be able to run out and grab some stuff for me?”

  “I’m sorry.” She didn’t even look up as she said it so I was pretty sure she wasn’t actually sorry. “I think you confused me with a concierge.”

  Right. Not so much, but I’d hoped.

  “Sorry. My assistant just bailed and she did it from a state away so I don’t have everything she was supposed to bring with her.”

  If I’d been looking for pity, I’d been pointing my gaze in the wrong direction.

  For a moment, she looked a tad softer, then the front door opened and I knew I’d lost any chance I’d had as the first customers headed toward the counter. She gave me a slight shrug, then stepped to her station ready to run her kingdom.

  “Hey. What’s wrong?” Kyle, the guy who seemed to be in charge tonight—although he refused to take ownership of anything close to the title manager—stuck his head in the kitchen.

  “My assistant took off before bothering to drop off most of the stuff I need.” It sounded worse every time I said it.

  I was afraid Kyle would flip out and question why he’d hired me. Why had he brought in a no-named nobody to bake for a multi-platinum recording artist?

  “No worries. I’ll have the stuff delivered.” He pulled out his cell phone and politely commanded whoever was on the other end to do my bidding. “Do you have a list?”

  That kind of power would have gone to my head. Hello, Phone Minion. It’s three am, but I feel like baking. Find me some freshly ground, organic rose petals pronto.

  Ah, that would be living the dream.

  Coming out of my fantasy world, I wrote down everything I needed and where to get it. Kyle made magic happen over the phone and I headed back into the oven, glad there was one thing I could get done.

  With the oven scent free and my fresh ingredients on the way, I was free to start measuring out my dry ingredients. I grabbed a second measuring cup from behind Abby’s perfectly stocked counter and darted around her as she scowled at me.

  “Maddie?”

  And now I was hallucinating, because there’s no way that voice could be coming from behind me.

  Maybe if I just didn’t turn around…

  “Maddie.”

  The footsteps came closer and I knew there was no way I could pretend I was some other five-foot-one, redheaded baker.

  I turned, shifting on my foot so I didn’t have to step nearer. It was more of an in-place-pivot than anything else, waiting for the pain to hit as I lifted my gaze to his. To Adam’s.

  “Hey, Adam.” I kind of stalled out there because… Well, because what else was I supposed to say? Besides, “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, you know.” He cocked his head back toward the stage. “Came to hear the music.”

  I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. Adam liked to be out and about. The town offered more interesting opportunities than where either of us had grown up. We’d met in college and both knew we’d be staying to take advantage of the job market and everything the town had to offer.

  We’d met when he was in college and I was in the culinary school in the same neighborhood. He says I wooed him with my cupcakes, but the truth was he chased me. Showing up at the bench I’d study on every day for two weeks the spring we met.

  And, if that wasn’t something to turn your head, he brought me tea. Not soda or coffee. He asked me what I liked to drink and every day showed up with one.

  But, when one was involved with a baker—and a junior one at that—one did not get to go out till all hours with his fiancé. Bakers get up when most people are stumbling home. Occasionally I could pull that off, but my work suffered and my chances to get ahead followed. So, late nights and parties and going to hear music that didn’t start in most bars until eleven had to go.

  And that had been a lot of the problem.

  What am I talking about? From what I could tell, that was most of our problem.

  And the truth was, after I stopped crying days later, I wasn’t even mad. He’d been fair and it was better to figure out we wanted different things early on.

  Of course, I’d still wanted him.

  And now here he was. Just a few feet away. Because of a darn show.

  “You’re here for the music?” I asked because it still didn’t seem like it could be right. It seemed a little too much like Fate was messing with me.

  “Yeah.” He grinned and my heart pushed up into my throat. “It’s really good to see you. Amazing. Amazing to see you. You look great.”

  What I looked like was a woman who was just getting her figure back after losing fifteen pounds of grief weight. Skelator had not really been a good look for me. I was a lot softer than that. Curves were my friend.

  “Thanks.” I tried not to let the appreciation touch me. “You look like… you.” That was neutral.

  Adam just stood there grinning, hands shoved in the pockets of his perfectly fitted jeans, rocking back on his heels.

  I glanced past him to the crowd starting to form at the front of the room where some guy in black was setting up a small, raised stage. The line of people running the teen barista Nazi off her feet stepped around Adam, forcing him farther down the counter and basically into the kitchen.

  “So, it was great to see you,” I lied. “But, I’m kind of in a crisis right now so, gotta go.”

  I grinned at him, pretending the crisis was one hundred percent getting this job done, not in any way, shape, or form dealing with him walking in on the biggest night of my life. “Have a great time tonight. It should be an amazing show.”

  I pivoted back the way I’d been heading and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Or, disappeared as much as one can when the kitchen is right behind the counter with an accordion door as flimsy as wax paper that barely shut.

  I looked at what I had in front of me, trying to focus back on making the dessert of the century. Trying not to focus on the man who had nearly destroyed me and was standing on the other side of the counter waiting for his dark roast.

  “Hey, Maddie.” Kyle, stuck his head in the kitchen. “I let security know you’re expecting a delivery. They have someone standing at the backdoor
now to make sure the truck can get through and no one hassles you trying to bring stuff in. So far the whole secret show seems to still be relatively a secret.”

  He shrugged, showing how much he cared if it did or not. He seemed to be the most laid back guy on Earth. But, I’d seen him pre-show with the security teams—yes, teams plural—and knew the demeanor was either the most polished act ever or the guy had nerves of steel.

  “Thanks.” I glanced at my prep table, ready to get to work. “I don’t know how you did it, but you saved my butt.”

  “No problem.” Kyle grinned like it was all a joke. “Butt saving is what I do.”

  “So, is that your title? Tour Butt Saver?”

  “I’m trying to get the tour to print me up cards that just say, Kyle MacLean. Man of Mystery.” And with that, he was gone.

  Up front, someone was doing a mic check and my panic set back in like being washed over with heat from an industrial oven. Once the opening act went on, I’d have forty-five minutes before Dalton Reddy showed up. He was supposed to spend ten minutes in the back of the kitchen enjoying my winning dessert before heading on stage for some type of acoustic set.

  Kyle and the owner John seemed to have everything down to the minute.

  “Hey, Maddie.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to where Adam leaned through the doorway and wondered why he was back.

  “What’s up?” I have to admit, I was pretty proud the tone of my voice stayed almost even.

  “Um, I was just wondering if you’re going to come hang out.” He stepped through the door and leaned a hip against the counter, until he remembered I hated him leaning on my counter and eased away.

  “Sorry. No can do. I’m working tonight.”

  “Do you work here?” He studied the tiny kitchen as if it were far-fetched I’d be making a living in the cozy space.

  “No. I was brought in for the gig.”

  “Oh. Right. To bake for the rock star guy.” Adam looked like this was the most annoying thought ever even though he was here tonight to see the rock star guy. It probably was.

  My win on Bake America! had pretty much been the last straw for him emotionally. He’d been waiting for me the day I got home from winning. Just sitting on our couch, watching the door.

  This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted nine-to-five and no drama. He wanted his fiancé to be available to him, not keeping hours that made a rooster look lazy.

  I’d realized it wasn’t a discussion when I noticed the bags sitting tucked just around the corner. Adam had paid the rent for the next two months and moved out while I basically wasn’t looking.

  And I became the skinniest baker in the northeast.

  No one trusts a skinny baker.

  But then, I’d gotten my feet back under me as I’d tested new versions of classic recipes and started blogging about the process. I was a guest baker for a fundraiser. And then I decided to start my dessert delivery, Scrumptiously to You.

  Because, who doesn’t want 24-hour cupcake delivery, right?

  But, nothing would give my career a boost like getting the Dalton Reddy stamp of approval online.

  So, yeah. The fact that my ex, who had nearly destroyed me, was standing in the doorway judging me was an issue I had no interest in dealing with.

  “Anyway, it was great to see you.” I turned just a bit away, reaching for a pan hanging overhead as if I really didn’t have time for this. Which, in the grand scheme of things was true even though in the past-love-blindsiding event, I’d momentarily forgotten that. That, and how to breathe. “You’re obviously doing really well. I’m sure you don’t want to miss the show.”

  Adam looked upset—like he wanted to say something, add something to the conversation. But, when two people who had a whole life together are left to small talk, it’s probably better to just take a bow and make your exit.

  I did the thing, the thing I’d watched girls do that had always annoyed me.

  I tilted my head just a little to the side and gave him that, I’m sorry. Why are you still standing there? smile.

  So, Adam turned and walked out of my life.

  Again.

  FOUR

  There was a heavy pounding on the backdoor. The guy Kyle arranged to retrieve my ingredients eased the door open and dealt with the deliveryman and the small number of groupies who had figured out what was going on in The Brew tonight.

  I glanced at the clock and began to wonder if maybe, somehow, I could pull this off.

  Behind me, on the far side of the room, the opening act—and who knew that underground shows at coffee houses had opening acts?—started warming up and chatting with the crowd.

  That meant I had forty-five minutes until my ten-minute window to impress the rock god.

  I started laying out the rest of the ingredients to get organized. That was the first thing I always told people when they asked what made baking easier: Prep.

  The oven was heating; everything was ready to go. Now, if I only had two extra hands, I’d be able to slow boil the chocolate, mixing in my—

  “Maddie?”

  I wasn’t one to get angry, but… “Adam, I’m kind of in the middle of your favorite type of crisis right now—a baking one. So, I don’t really have time to—”

  “I know.” He stepped past me, pulled the accordion door shut behind him, and turned the sink on, grabbing some soap while he spoke. “The guy running this thing said your assistant didn’t show and he wasn’t sure you’d pull this off alone.”

  “Kyle?”

  “The guy with the scruff?” Adam glanced out toward the show.

  “Sure.” Because, really, most of the guys had scruff.

  “Anyway, he said you needed help and… ” He held his arms out like the rest of the sentence was obvious.

  And, unfortunately, it was. Obvious and way, way wrong.

  “No. No, thank you.” I checked the flame on the stove and started stirring the chocolate before jumping back for a moment to crush some fresh sugar cane. And then stirring again. “I’ll be fine.”

  I reached out and smashed at the sugar cane with my free hand, forcing the juice out.

  “Maddie, you’re nowhere near fine. You’re trying to do three things at once. That’s not like you. You like prep, order, process, completion, renewal… which I always thought you should just call cleanup like everyone else.”

  “I need—” I stopped, trying to remember to very gently stir my chocolate while I thought. I needed to succeed tonight. I needed to get my life in order. I needed to get my business off the ground. I needed to make a name for myself.

  And I needed to get over Adam.

  “I need you to stir this softly,” I gave in and he gave me a look. A puppy dog look. “You’ll know it when you feel it. Slow, like you’re just moving the spoon through it, not really moving it. Every minute or so add a bit of both of these.” I handed him two bowls and hoped beyond hope he could handle this.

  “I can do that.” He grinned at me as If I’d given him a prize. I had no idea what he thought he’d won.

  I went back to making the other two segments of my secret recipe, making sure to check the chocolate every few minutes.

  “Remember when you built that little chocolate house for my nephew? He loved that thing. I was afraid he’d never eat it. You had my sister Googling Does chocolate get moldy? after a week.” I could feel him glance my way as if I might not remember and he needed to check.

  “Yup.”

  “But, then you told him you’d build a surprise inside the house and he couldn’t wait to get the roof off.”

  “Well, he always loved cars. Who wouldn’t want a car in the house?” You know, besides anyone who wasn’t a five year-old boy?

  “Yeah.” He laughed and the sound flipped my soul over. “That was great.”

  I made the mistake of glancing at Adam and he gave me the grin. The one that had convinced me to go out with him in the first place.

  “And then, when we went to New
York for the weekend and—”

  “Adam, what are you doing?” Because, if the answer was trying to kill me, he was doing a great job.

  “Maddie, I made a mistake.”

  I dropped my knife and pushed him away from the stove, checking to see what he’d dropped in there. “Whatever it is, we’ll fish it out. It wasn’t something gross was it?”

  “What?”

  “Did you pour in the whole bowl at once? It’ll be uneven but—”

  “No. Maddie, no. The food is fine. It’s me. I’m the mistake.”

  Was he leaving? He’d done more in fifteen minutes just by freeing me up to not worry about everything at once.

  “I mean,” he continued. “I made a mistake. The worst mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking when I left. You were… everything. You were absolutely everything and I left because it wasn’t how I’d imagined my life. My family was so unsettled so I had a really clear vision of what a family should look like and I didn’t know how to piece it together from there. And so, I was an idiot.” He cocked his head back, cracking his neck like he used to do when he was stressed or worried. “I have been in love with you since the first day I saw you and because I didn’t know how to deal with not getting to see you in my stupid life fantasy, I freaked. Panicked we wouldn’t make it. Then you were all famous and stuff and I thought, well, she’s not going to put up with me not knowing how to make her happy. And so… Yeah, you know the rest.”

  Okay. That was…

  Annoying as anything. I really did not need for tonight of all nights to be hearing words I’d needed to hear months ago.

  “Adam, do you really not get that I’m in the middle of my biggest job ever and that whatever you did doesn’t matter right now?”

  He looked like I’d slapped him.

  I wasn’t the one who was messing up someone’s life for the second time. And, just like last time, he picked a key moment around my career to have this major heart to heart.

  “Right.” He cleared his throat and stepped back to the stove. “I’ll just… ”