by Kate Asher
Like there had ever been a time like this.
Andi rolled her eyes as she worked her phone. Her grandmother answered on the fourth ring.
“Hi, honey. I’m busy. Did you make it to the bakery?”
“Grams, what’re you doing?” she asked, heading for a bench in front of the health food store.
“Well, I’m trying to make these bookmarks. It’s not easy. I can’t see as well as I used too and the little beads…”
Andi closed her eyes, praying for patience as she cut her grandmother off.
“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”
Her grandmother was silent for a moment then chuckled, proving what Andi had suspected: today was on purpose.
“You aren’t funny. You know how I feel about him.”
“Yes, that’s true. I do. It’s why you needed to face your fears. Sometimes the past isn’t as crystal clear as you believe it to be.” When had her grandmother become the all wise one?
“I’m not afraid of him,” she snapped, feeling the headache coming back.
“Well, you sure are afraid of something, dear. You live a boring life. I’m more socially active than you. You need to shake things up.”
Oh God, how were they back there? Her life was planned and structured like everything she’d ever done. How was being a responsible adult a bad thing?
“Did I tell you about my date with Roger last week? Well, let’s just say he was no Roger Rabbit, that’s for sure.” Grams harrumphed. Her grandmother had no boundaries. “When I got home, I had to pull out my trusty—”
“No. Do not tell me,” Andi begged. Grams needed to keep her sex life to herself. Andi cringed at the thought. Besides that, Grams was attempting to deflect the conversation. Blake Mangold was a bad guy. He did bad things. He’d played a part in ruining her family. “He robbed a store with Nat, Grams. That’s who you want to shake things up for me?”
“I suspect there’s more to that story than you know.” Grams sighed. “I love my family, but Nat’s a bad egg. Anyone that fell in with her was going to get dirty.” On that point, Andi totally agreed. She hadn’t always, but the truth had become clearer over the years.
She plopped down on the bench, letting her shoulders slump. At twenty-eight years old, she held her own against an executive board filled with a bunch of know-it-all older men—a typical corporate old cronies club. Why did this morning feel like five days of meetings with those men? Besides all that, technically, right now, she should be happy, feeling like she was giving back to the world, not beat the down by life.
“You keep doing this for me, Andi.”
“We could switch jobs,” she said, predicting her grandmother’s no response before she muttered the words.
“I did give you an option. I decided to let fate handle it; that was hard on me. You know how much I like to pair people together.”
“This is not a matchmaking, Grams. There’s no way I would ever lower myself—”
“Hush, dear. That man’s scrumptious and his cakes, oh my. I think I’ve gained ten pounds since he opened for business. He gives a nice senior citizen discount.”
She had so much approval in her tone that Andi dropped her head back and stared up at the awning. The only reason she was still in this town was for this old lady that she wanted to kick right now. Another thought came to mind. “Grams, why is he back? I heard he went career military.”
It took a second, but her grandmother finally said, “You’re a smart young woman. I’ll let you figure all that out. If I tell you the ending, what fun will you have working through the story yourself, hmm? I’ve got to go, dear. Keep me up-to-date on the progress.”
“Two volunteers quit.” Andi said those words just to show her grandmother she wasn’t nearly the perfect matchmaker she thought she was.
“Probably the high schoolers. They can find much easier community service hours to put on college applications. Looks like you have more than you bargained for, and probably more hours work than you two can do. Do I need to stress how important this is to the community, dear?” Her grandmother paused for effect before going in for the kill. “Or how much this means to me? You wouldn’t let me down, now would you, sweetie?”
“Grams, I swear—” Andi started, not even having dared to consider the idea of putting in volunteer overtime.
“That’s wonderful. But you don’t have to swear to help out. I know you’ll do the right thing. Gotta go, dear.” The phone beeped with the disconnected call as a brown bag dropped in her lap.
“Do you think the airline will reimburse for lunch today since technically we’re volunteering in their name?” Before Andi could answer, Bree plopped onto the bench beside her and continued, “Did you see all those tattoos? Blake’s seriously sexy. What’s the deal between you two? Do you think he’s married?” Luckily, Bree didn’t need her to help the conversation. She was on roll. She’d have herself married to Blake before Andi knew it. Oh Lord, that would never do. Then she’d have to hear about Blake every day.
Her life. Andi dug in the bag Bree had brought her, feeling lots of dysfunctional stress eating coming her way.
Chapter 5
Blake stood in the doorway to the prep room where he’d set up the icing station. Bree and Andi had been working diligently all afternoon, chatting and icing the gingerbread cookies, then switching over to the shaped sugar cookies. Sadly—or maybe luckily—Andi hadn’t needed another tutorial on icing. He had tried to make sure they had a variety of cookie shapes for the event: candy canes, trees, reindeer, Santas, round ornaments, bells. He had more dough to bake but the ladies had stopped chattering about a half hour ago, and he didn’t doubt they were worn out. He cleared his throat so as not to startle them, and they glanced his direction—a smile from Bree and a scowl from Andi. The smile did nothing for him and that scowl made him half hard. He seriously needed a psych evaluation.
“You’ve both done an amazing job, but I think you’ve put in more than your agreed-upon hours.” Blake smiled.
The bakery had been closed since four, and he’d bet they were getting hungry for dinner. He’d kept them as long as he felt comfortable, since it was past eight now. He couldn’t keep them all night, even if he did worry he’d never have it all ready in time.
No. Failure wasn’t an option. He’d learned that long ago. He’d scoot them out the door and bake for a few more hours. Maybe he’d crash in his office to save the commute. Before he’d opened the bakery, the little shop had been a furniture upholstery store for about forty years. When the guy who’d owned the hundred-year-old building and run the shop had retired, he’d left behind quite a few pieces, telling Blake, with a huge grin on his face, to use them, sell them, or toss them, because he was headed to a tropical island and couldn’t care less.
Blake had kept a comfy couch and a double-wide recliner on one side of the room with a low-slung coffee table and, for client consultations, he’d set up his desk and two straight-back chairs on the other side near the window. The office had three doors on the back wall—one led to a full bathroom, another to a small bedroom, and the third housed a nice-sized supply closet. It had obviously been used as living quarters during one of its incarnations over the years. He hadn’t given it much thought when he’d moved in, but the ability to crash at the shop had come in handy in the early days when he’d had large catering gigs that he’d handled on his own.
“What time do you plan to be here in the morning?” They could hit the ground running, packaging the iced cookies and getting to work on the freshly baked items. They’d iced at least fifteen hundred today, so they’d have an ample set ready for Saturday and then Saturday they could package for Sunday. Thank God Babs had thought ahead to bring in volunteers to sit at the table this weekend.
Andi set down the piping bag and stretched out her back, arms over her head. Then she brought the back of her hand to her mouth to cover a yawn. “What time does the bakery open?”
“Eight, but some
one’s here by five to start prep.” The life of a baker reminded him of boot camp. Up at the crack of dawn and always covered in dirt—well, in this case flour and sugar, which tasted a bit better when it accidently got ingested. Blake held back a grin. So maybe it was nothing like boot camp.
Bree squeaked. “I didn’t agree to five AM. That’s insanity. I’ll be here at nine, thank you very much.” She gave Andi a challenging look.
Andi held up her hands. “You’re volunteering. I’m not going to make you do more than you want.”
“It’s not about want. You know I don’t function on too little sleep, and I have to do my morning yoga or my whole day’s off.”
“Lord knows that’s true.” Andi snorted then faced Blake. The look on her face reflected fondness—the first time she’d sent a friendly look his way all day. Not that the look had anything to do with him. “She’ll be here at nine. She’s a fabulous assistant…unless you make her work past her bedtime or get up too early. Then she’s practically useless.”
Blake’s eyes widened, and he glanced over to Bree, thinking she’d argue the point, feeling insulted. But Bree just smiled and waved her hand.
“She speaks the truth, my friend. I am fabulous.” She grinned at Andi. “When well-rested, of course.” Bree hopped off the stool, rearranging the tray of iced cookies to fit a few more around the edges. “Do you need us to stay and clean up?”
“Who would I be to stand in the way of a woman’s beauty sleep?” Blake bowed gallantly in Bree’s direction, only raising when she chuckled at his antics.
“I just need to finish this one.” Andi added a final squiggle to an ornament-shaped cookie. She really had improved as the day had gone on. He was a little sad he hadn’t been able to offer another hands-on tutorial but also grateful, since his reactions to this woman were anything but acceptable. “And I’m done with this batch.” She added her cookie to the tray.
“Just hang up your aprons and head up front. I’ll be right behind you to open the doors.” Blake took the tray and added it to the rolling pastry cart. He’d get those to refrigeration and wipe down their workstations so they’d be ready to start fresh in the morning.
They didn’t speak as he followed them out to their cars, which they’d moved to the front of the shop after closing. Bree waved and jumped in her tiny convertible Fiat, which fit her personality perfectly. Andi lingered a moment, as if she wanted to say something. They’d come to some sort of tenuous truce as the day had worn on, after their words before the lunch break. He hoped to continue that.
“You did great today. Thank you for volunteering. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stepped back onto the walkway, but Andi just hovered by the door of her sensible Prius.
She took a deep breath and said, “This event’s important to Grams, so I’m putting aside my issues with our history to make this work for her. But that doesn’t mean I forgive you.”
Blake shook his head, stunned. He thought they’d settled on polite interactions. Forgive him? What had he ever done to her anyway? She’d tempted him, seduced him with her very being from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, obviously without ever realizing the power she’d held over him when they’d been teenagers. He’d gotten in trouble for being in the wrong place with the wrong sister, but not because he’d done anything wrong himself. Her family hadn’t done him any favors by trying to place the blame on him to get Nat off.
Unfortunately for him, his attraction to Andi hadn’t waned over the years, not even one iota, but he’d never let anyone accuse him of wrongdoing ever again. He’d been a scared kid then, and he’d let a bunch of adults who wouldn’t listen to him drive the path of his life, but not anymore. He narrowed his eyes and stepped off the sidewalk toward her, using his height to intensify his point. Her eyes widened when he folded his arms across his broad chest.
“That’s not a problem, Princess, because there’s nothing to forgive. You might want to reassess the facts before wallowing in that bath of self-righteous contempt. You can take me as I am or you can walk away. I’m not here to make you happy.”
Andi sucked in a breath and yanked open the driver’s door. “You’re a jerk.”
“No. I’m a realist. You want to help with the charity, show up tomorrow and get to work. If you want to bust my chops for a situation you know nothing about, then stay home, because I don’t need the drama. If that’s the case, I’ll do what I’ve always done where the Wilson sisters are concerned: pick up the pieces and make the best of a trying situation.” She tried to slam her door, but he grabbed the frame to stop her. “You have good night, Princess. And drive safely.” He closed her door gently and walked back to his store, not watching her drive away.
Though he did hear her scream through the closed car, “You big jerk,” as he walked away. For some reason, that made him smile. God, would he ever not find Andi Wilson the sexiest woman alive, even pissed, even accusing him of things he’d never done? Didn’t matter. A demon-possessed Mack truck couldn’t stop his lust.
He scowled as he fished his ringing phone from his pocket when he entered the bakery and locked the door behind him.
“Blake,” he grunted in answer.
“Hey, bro,” Ryan, Blake’s best friend and fellow SEAL, said.
“Ry! I didn’t know you were back.” Blake’s mood instantly lightened. It’d been a few months since they’d spoken, as Ryan had taken a special assignment. That wasn’t unusual, but he was glad to hear from him.
“Got back yesterday. Two-week leave. How you feel about me showing up on your doorstep?”
“Always got room for you. You know that.”
“Well, that’s good, because I’m sitting on your porch right now. Where the hell are you?”
Blake nearly groaned aloud. He wanted nothing more than to see his friend…his brother. But he had to get this baking finished or he’d let Babs down, and that would let the kids down, and he couldn’t do that. “I’m at the bakery. Can’t leave. You can use the key in the frog by the front step or you can come down here. I’ll be a few hours yet.”
Ryan grunted. “I’ll shove my stuff inside, grab a six-pack, and be there in thirty.”
“Dude, if you’re bringing beer, bring a change of clothes and we’ll crash here.” He’d wrangle Ryan into helping him while they caught up. Wouldn’t be the first time his brothers had helped with the baking.
“Consider it a plan.” The squeak of the porch swing echoed through the speaker.
“Back door. Use the bell.”
“Roger that.” Ryan hung up.
Blake grinned. That mix of irritation and lust he felt around Andi had dissipated with his friend’s call, but it was still going to be a long night. He’d better get those final batches of cookies in the oven as soon as possible before Ryan distracted him with beer and conversation.
~~~
Andi clomped down the hall to her apartment, her high heels stomping on the polished concrete. Her feet hurt like hell. You’d think that might be enough to ease her steps, but with every step she took, she envisioned her pointy high heel digging into Blake’s stupid work boot. Who wore work boots to bake in? His feet had to hurt as badly as hers. With a forceful shake of the head, she scolded herself for even considering his awful feet.
At the front of her apartment, Andi reached to unlock the door and found she didn’t have her keys in hand. She always had her front door keys ready. She considered it a safety measure for walking alone at night. She blamed this lapse of judgment on Blake too.
She tried to find her keys with a quick reach into the handbag hanging on her shoulder. Of course, nothing was ever that easy. In the end, her purse was on the ground with half the contents dumped to the ground before she located the keychain tucked in a bottom corner. How they had made it there in such a short walk from her car to her apartment spoke volumes about the bad turn her life had taken in less than twenty-four hours. Order and routine were the saviors of her life. How had things gotten so quickly out of control?
Andi shoved everything back inside, not caring about the normal order she used to organize her things and quickly unlocked the deadbolt while still perched close to the ground. She winced. It finally happened. The pain in her feet zinged up her legs, erasing everything else inside her brain. Barely inside the entryway, she kicked off her shoes and stood with her bare feet on the cold tile. The chill helped. Her feet were in a bad way for an ice bath. To think that she had mocked work boots at a bakery when she had worn these silly high-heeled shoes. But they went so perfectly with her snappy little outfit. Andi looked down the length of her body, wondering if the dry cleaners could ever make her clothes look right again. The icing and flour had woven into the material.
Felix, her cat, lay stretch out on her sofa. Their gazes connected, and she swore the cat rolled his eyes at her before looking away. “You know, I had a shit day. Just once you could greet me like other pets greet their owners.” As if he understood English perfectly, Felix turned his whole body, giving her his back.
“Really? I’m volunteering. You could be nicer to me.” Why did it feel like the whole world had just crapped on her? Andi bent and picked up her shoes, heading toward her bedroom, careful not to touch anything as she went. Her car had a fine sheen of flour coating the driver’s side that she didn’t want that to extend to her ultra-clean home. Today had definitely made her question her love of cake in a major way.
As appealing as her bed looked, Andi dropped her purse by her bed and went straight for the bathroom. She undressed while standing beside her walk-in shower, barely catching a glance at herself in the mirror. The small glimpse had her whipping her head that direction, fearful some homeless person was in the room with her. But she was the one downcast, looking more defeated than she may have ever looked before. Her body language spoke volumes for someone trained to read non-verbal cues like she’d been. Her slumped shoulders and concaved upper body told a tale, but the clue that revealed exactly what she felt were the dark circles under her eyes. They showed up when she was stressed, and boy, stress didn’t even begin to explain the turmoil running through her.