by Liz Johnson
16
It’s cake-tasting day. Are you coming over?”
Natalie didn’t know why the invitation felt so intimate. It was just food. What she’d promised Justin from the beginning.
This wasn’t even her house. It was the inn. But she had a sneaking suspicion that any hesitancy about the invitation had very little to do with the location and a whole lot more to do with who she was inviting.
She hadn’t seen him in over a week. Not since the trip to the hospital, actually. Not since her dad had nearly ambushed her.
While Marie had returned home—Seth too from his trip to Boston—Justin hadn’t come around the inn even once. If he’d checked in about the progress of the barn, it hadn’t been with her. But she’d stopped by and checked three times this week. The barn was coming along nicely, but he was nowhere to be found.
Little Natalie would have worried that he was avoiding her. Adult Natalie knew he was.
In response to her invitation, Justin hemmed for a moment.
Didn’t he want to see her?
That didn’t matter. It didn’t. He was only helping her out with reception preparations.
So what if he didn’t want to see her? She hadn’t wanted to see him when she arrived in town. She didn’t need his attention or help. She didn’t need him hanging around the barn, making her laugh, making her feel free to be herself.
But … maybe she wanted it anyway.
Something had reminded her of all that she’d lost when she’d walked away from him, and now her stomach was in knots as she awaited his rejection.
It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter.
It didn’t matter how many times she told herself that. Nothing could make a lie the truth.
“What time were you thinking?” His voice sounded like it had been dragged through gravel.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Sure. The calves and their mamas are just being stubborn.”
Whatever uncertainty she’d had a moment before disappeared, and the words popped out unbidden. “Sounds like something you’d know a thing or two about.”
He grunted in good humor. “Fair enough.” But he didn’t go on, and he didn’t respond to her invitation.
“The barn’s looking good.”
Another grunt. This one less committed.
“I mean, the inside’s almost done, and they’ll be delivering tables soon, so we can figure out the arrangement.”
“Still have to get the outside painted. I guess I should probably work on that.”
“I could help you.”
What was with her mouth today? For all the weird places her mind was going, her tongue seemed completely unconcerned. She shouldn’t want to be spending time with him. But she did. He was safe. He wasn’t easy, but he required no explanation of her story. And somehow he always knew what to say to get a rise out of her.
She’d never felt quite so alive.
Even if he didn’t want to see her.
Doubts and desires warred within her, but that was of little concern to her flapping tongue. “If you’ll help me choose the cake, I’ll help you paint.”
Even from the other end of the phone, a low hum from his throat made her stomach flip. She pressed her hand to it, forcing it down. Nope. This wasn’t happening. They were just friends. Barely friends.
She just liked that she didn’t have to play a part or try to remember how she’d phrased her past with him.
Right. Yes. She’d go with that.
And pray that it was true. God, please let it be true.
“Sounds like I’ll be getting the better end of that deal.”
“Maybe.”
And three hours later, as they sat at one of the tables in the dining room, she was sure he had. When Caden set a large platter of cake slices in front of them, her mouth watered instantly. Their table had been set with only two forks, but somehow the platter made it feel like it was ready for the queen. Six thick slices of cake made a full circle, nearly filling the platter. Yellow and chocolate and white, the frosting was bright and creamy and so rich it made her head spin before she even took a bite.
“This one is a lemon cake with raspberry filling and lemon buttercream frosting.”
Justin let out a low moan and shifted like he might need to adjust his pants for this. Making people eat too much seemed to be a habit of Caden’s.
When he met Natalie’s gaze, his was a little hesitant, and she wondered again if he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. But when his eyes devoured the array of sweets, pure joy swept across his features.
He was here for the cake, and it would do her well to remember that.
On several levels.
Caden pointed to another slice, a wicked gleam in her eye. “This is devil’s food cake—and it lives up to its name—with chocolate ganache.”
Now it was Natalie’s turn to sigh at the decadent dessert options. But she tried to keep it soft.
Justin shot her a sly smile filled with mocking, and she knew she hadn’t succeeded in staying silent. So she picked up her fork and stabbed it in his direction—a silent threat. Without a sound, he whipped his fork up like he was going to parry her attack.
Caden was either ignoring their childish antics or enamored with her baking. Either way, she kept the descriptions going. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting. Carrot cake with walnuts. Strawberry cake with strawberry cream filling and whipped lemon frosting. And, of course, traditional wedding cake, white with white frosting. When she was done pointing out her masterpieces, she put her hands on her hips and swayed, almost a little dance of joy.
Natalie lowered her fork and watched the pleasure on Caden’s face. Had she been so spunky back in high school? She’d been a few years younger, so they hadn’t shared a lot of classes or run in the same circles. But Natalie remembered Caden as being shy, something of a loner.
But as she proudly displayed the rose petal designs and intricate frosting scallops along the white cake, she wasn’t the same girl she’d been. What Natalie didn’t know was if the change had occurred naturally or if it was the result of one of the Jacobs brothers.
She waited for the reminder of Russell to bring with it a swarm of butterflies. After all, he’d been gone for a few weeks already, and she missed him. Or she would have, if she wasn’t quite so busy getting ready for the wedding.
But instead of the warmth she expected, the thought of him brought a swarm of bees, which made her stomach ache.
Not what she needed before gorging herself on sweets.
“Any questions?” Caden asked.
“Got any milk?” Justin said.
She chuckled. “I should have known.” Despite the shake of her head and the faux annoyance in her tone, Caden sashayed into the kitchen and returned with two glasses brimming with creamy milk that had surely come from Justin’s farm. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“So, how are we going to tackle this?” Justin asked after Caden left.
“Well, I know it’s a new concept for you, but you see, you use your fork to scoop up a bite, then carry it to your mouth and—”
“Don’t try getting smart with me,” he said. “It doesn’t suit you.” But he couldn’t even finish his thought before laughter spilled out. It was low and throaty and bubbled from somewhere deep in his chest.
“All right, wise guy.” She was laughing too, and she couldn’t cover it up. “Let’s try the same piece and then compare notes. Start with the devil’s food?”
He suddenly turned serious, his fork held at the ready. “Nope. That’s too rich. Let’s start with the lighter ones. Lemon or white.”
“Thought about this quite a bit, have you?”
“Been planning it since I sat down.”
“Of course you have.” But he was right. The overly rich chocolate could spoil their appreciation of the lighter fare, so she spun the platter to the yellow cake. They each poked a bite free—hers about a third of the size of his. As she brought it to her lips, sh
e closed her eyes, breathed in, and let the scent prepare her. Except nothing could have prepared her for the explosion of flavor. Some cakes were so sweet that all she could taste was sugar. But this one—this lemon-raspberry wonder—was refreshing like a cold glass of lemonade. The tartness of the fresh raspberry filling balanced the rich frosting, which tingled at the back of her throat.
“You like it, huh?”
“What?” She jerked her eyes open to find another chunk of the slice gone.
Justin licked the corner of his lips, and a speck of frosting disappeared. “I figured that moan was a good sign.”
“I did not.”
Now it was his turn to jab his fork at her. “Don’t even try denying it, young lady.”
“Oh, so we’re back to lady?”
“If the shoe fits and all that.” He stabbed for another bite of her precious slice, but she parried with her own fork. “Hey! Do you want my help or not?”
“You’ve already had three bites. Aren’t you going to save room for the others?”
With a huff at her apparently absurd question, he waved his hand over the platter. “I could eat this whole plate.”
“And then what?”
“Then you’d have to drive me to the hospital in Charlottetown. But I could eat it.”
Tears of mirth flooded her eyes, and she had to wipe them away. “You are ridiculous, Justin Kane.”
“Yes, I am. But it never bothered you before.”
“I didn’t say it bothered me now.” There went her completely unhinged tongue again. But it wasn’t wrong. She’d always enjoyed his laughter and silliness. And right up until this moment, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it in her life.
The blue in his eyes sparked. “So this is an option then?”
It took her a second to follow the tines of his fork to the cake remnants and realize what he was talking about, because her stupid brain was trying to twist his words to mean something else. What exactly, she wasn’t sure. But she was sure it wasn’t good. “Umm. Yes. The cake. I liked it. Did you?”
He forked another scoop and popped it in his mouth. Then he tried to talk around it. “I’d ask for seconds.”
“Okay. Good.” Time to get back on track. Yes. More cake. That’s exactly what she needed.
Right.
She kept her mouth stuffed through three more flavors. The red velvet wasn’t as moist. The carrot cake was delicious but too heavy. Plus she didn’t want to risk sending one of her wedding guests to the emergency room with an allergic reaction to nuts. Best keep to the basics.
The white-on-white was as basic—and as delicious—as it came. She couldn’t hold back another moan as she eased the fork past her lips, catching every last shred of frosting. It rushed through her like lightning in her veins, popping as it reached her fingers and toes. So sweet and utterly simple. And wonderfully perfect.
“So, the white?” Justin asked, again speaking around a mouthful. It made him look like a boy, shoveling cheese sandwiches into his cheeks, afraid he’d never eat again.
“Yes. Definitely the white.”
“With the lemon. That’s good.”
She shook her head. “No, the red velvet.”
He frowned. He didn’t have to ask the question.
“It’s Russell’s favorite.”
His eyes turned stormy.
But he’s not here.
It was written on every line of Justin’s face. Along the angles of his darkened jaw. Down his slightly crooked nose. Along the furrows of his forehead.
He’s not here.
It matched the tempo of her heart. Not here. Not here. Blood was pounding in her ears. Surely it was the sugar making her dizzy. That and the stress of planning a wedding while her wedding planner was on bed rest.
But she couldn’t look away from Justin, who had an argument at the ready. She could see it in his eyes. The red velvet was her least favorite. It was good, but certainly not the best of Caden’s options. No one liked red velvet. No one would miss it.
Except Russell. And this was his wedding too.
She managed a deep breath and held it for a long second. Until her head righted itself. Until the buzzing inside her calmed. Until she could remember that she missed Russell.
Because there was definitely something going on that she couldn’t name. Something that wouldn’t let her forget she was her father’s daughter.
With a startled jerk, she shoved her chair back and found her feet. “I have to go see Lois.” No prelude. No explanation. Just an excuse to bail on their previously made plans.
“All right.” He nodded but didn’t stand. “Do you want me to go with you?”
No. Absolutely not.
“Yes.”
If Justin hadn’t been so wholly wound up in his own battle of should he or shouldn’t he—tell her about her dad, that is—he might have been able to study Natalie enough to figure out what was going on behind those shifty eyes.
Of course, the cake hadn’t helped. You can’t just put cake in front of a man and expect him to concentrate on anything else.
Buzzing on enough sugar to knock out a Guernsey, he’d decided it was a good idea to accompany her back to the florist.
Because he was brilliant. Just the smartest.
Halfway between the inn and Lois’s shed, the jitters were starting to fade and his mind was beginning to clear. And he was stuck spending the rest of the afternoon with Natalie.
Which would have been fine on any ordinary day. Or at least tolerable.
Sure. He’d stick with that story because the other ones—the ones where he had any right to press his finger to the corner of her mouth to free the frosting flake stuck there—were not okay.
Not okay, Kane.
But under the influence of high levels of giddy laughter and a pound of cake, he wasn’t sure he could be so circumspect.
He’d been holding on to his mother’s secret for five days. All he’d wanted to do every day was call Natalie and tell her. She’d been loved. People had cared. People had tried to help her.
But that particular news ought to come from her father.
At least that’s what his mom had said. Maybe she was right. Probably she was. Usually she was.
But this was something Natalie had a right to know. If she refused to talk to her father, she’d never hear the truth. And that was not okay.
Natalie swayed a little as she strolled down the boardwalk, then caught herself with an awkward crossover step.
He grabbed for her elbow. “All right there, Bambi?”
As she looked up at him, she closed one eye against the sun. Then again, maybe she was nursing a pounding headache. He had one of those starting behind his left eye.
“Is it possible to be drunk on sweets? I can’t seem to get my legs to work.”
The resemblance to her dad no longer stopped with her hair, as her legs buckled and she tumbled. Right into him.
Every inch of him burned where she grabbed on to him, hanging off his shoulder, leaning against his arm. This was different than when he’d held her at the hospital. That had been about comfort.
This was … well, he had no idea what this was, even as his arm slipped around her waist. Even as he pulled her closer to him. Even as he closed his eyes and drank in the scent of oranges that clung to her.
She was sweeter than the cake, her hair as soft as a kitten. Pressing his nose into the top of her hair, he let himself inhale all of her. She fit in his arms like she’d never left, like he’d sometimes let himself imagine she would. But those had been dreams. Reality was infinitely more satisfying.
When he opened his eyes, she was staring up at him with the strangest expression. Confusion and clarity mixed together. Wonder and shock battled for dominance, pulling her face to the side, her lips pursed and her pert little nose wrinkled.
His heart gave a little flutter and then slammed against his breastbone. He hunted for anything to say, but the quip he sought had found a good hidin
g place. So he stood like a fool with his mouth open and his arms holding her against his chest.
Because, despite everything he knew to be right, he couldn’t talk himself into letting her go. Not quite yet.
In the end, it was Natalie who regained her senses first. Natalie who pulled away.
As confusion won out in her eyes, he could only apologize. “Sorry. I’m not sure—”
She yanked her hand back from where it still rested on his shoulder. “It was my fault. I’m not very steady on my feet, I guess.” Heavy lids covered her eyes, long lashes sweeping over her cheeks. “I’ll be more careful.”
“I’ll be careful too.” But it wasn’t unstable legs he had to worry about.
Falling into an easy stroll in the direction of the florist, they didn’t say anything else until they reached the little shed.
Silence was good for Justin. It gave him plenty of time to chastise himself. And then to make a list of all the reasons he could never—never—get so close to Natalie again. But he only had one item on the list.
She was engaged to another man.
It was that simple. That hard.
And Lord help him, he wished she were free. The seasick feeling in his stomach was evidence of that.
But she’s not. Get that through your thick skull.
Although a large CLOSED sign hung on the outside of the green door to the shop, Justin pulled it open and held out his hand to usher her in. But he jerked away when he realized how close he’d come to touching the small of her back. That was off-limits too.
All of her. Off-limits.
He was so busy reminding himself not to look at her or touch her or smell her that he walked right into Lois’s worktable.
The older woman frowned at him as she righted the flowers he’d knocked off-kilter. “You’re here about the samples, I suppose.”
Natalie managed a polite smile. “You did call and tell me to come see them today.”
She harrumphed, and her hair shook under the weight of her displeasure. How on earth had a woman like this ever kept her shop open for a hundred years without driving away everyone in town?
“I went with simple for the centerpieces. The barn will have plenty going on, and you don’t want the flowers to be distracting. Also, you mentioned adding an antique, so these are small enough to add to.” Lois pulled a squat, square vase of white roses from the refrigerator on the far wall and set it on the edge of the table.