Craving Perfect
Page 25
“Well, I…well…you…” There was so much I wanted to ask her, so many questions that raced through my mind. Unfortunately none of them made much sense. I was afraid that I could easily send her running out the front door in search of the nearest police officer. I finally settled on something less frightening. “Do you like scones?”
The pink color returned to Callie’s cheekbones. Her shoulders caved forward. “Love them.”
“Raspberry?”
“My favorite.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
I turned slightly and looked at Carlos, wide-eyed. Other than the hint of a calm smile on his face, his expression was unreadable. “Well,” I said, swallowing back the dryness in my throat. “My name is Grace. And this is my boyfriend, Carlos. We’re so glad you found us.”
“Where do you work?” Carlos asked as I threaded my arm around his waist, more to keep from falling forward.
“I just started at Channel 10. I’ll be doing the weather.”
I coughed as though a popcorn kernel had suddenly wedged in my throat. “Channel…10?” I finally managed.
Callie nodded. “Have you seen the newscast?”
I blinked wide. Maybe I had. Maybe I hadn’t. By ten o’clock I was usually too exhausted to care. So I said nothing.
Callie shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I can see that you’re busy.” Her eyes landed on a stack of chairs in the corner. “I’ll come back another time.” She backed up a step and turned for the door.
“Wait!” I said. I raised my hand. “Stay there. Don’t move. Please.”
Callie nodded. But I wouldn’t have blamed her for bolting for the sidewalk.
Two minutes later, I returned with a large foam cup of coffee and a white box with two raspberry scones.
“For later,” I told her, handing her the packages.
Callie smiled again, inhaling the box, her blond hair falling forward in perfect silky waves over her shoulders. “I look forward to it. How much?”
I raised my palm. “On the house. Welcome to the neighborhood.”
“Thanks, Grace. Kurt was right about this place.” Her eyes scanned the room from corner to corner before they landed briefly on the photos behind the cash register.
“What’d he say?” I was instantly curious.
“Who?”
“Kevin—I mean, Kurt,” I said.
“Said it was the best café in town. And the friendliest.” She raised her packages, the coffee in one hand and the scones in the other. “He was right.”
I was glad that I hadn’t scared her off for good. “Come back any time.”
She nodded. “I will.”
Callie turned as Carlos helped her with the door, the bell jingling overhead. And then Callie was gone. Just like that. In the time it took me to blink. It didn’t seem possible.
My eyes followed her as she passed by the front windows. The rest of my body turned frozen.
“Grace,” Carlos said gently. His arm returned to my shoulder.
I finally blinked. “That was Callie,” I whispered. It didn’t seem possible. “Now do you believe me?”
“I never doubted you.”
“She’s so beautiful. And so perfect…”
Carlos reached for my chin. “And so are you.” Then he pulled me hard against his chest and kissed the top of my head. When I thought his arms couldn’t hug me any tighter, they did. “Please don’t ever leave me again, Grace.”
“What?” I exhaled the breath that I’d been holding against his neck.
“Well, this isn’t exactly how I planned it.”
“What are you talking about?”
Carlos dropped to the ground. “This seems like the right time.”
My eyes followed him. “What are you doing?” Whether my hands were shaking from seeing Callie or from watching Carlos drop to one knee, I wasn’t completely certain but they were trembling so badly that I had to cross my arms across my chest.
“I won’t lose you again, Grace.”
“Lose me? Never. Carlos—”
“Let me finish.”
I swallowed back an anxious lump as Carlos reached for my left hand.
Still shaking, my fingers met his.
He squeezed my hand and then he kissed the back of it. With his other hand, he pulled a black velvet box from his pocket. He flicked it open with his thumb. An oval-shaped diamond sparkled inside it. For a moment, his warm fingers left mine as he reached for the ring.
Then he held the ring in his hand.
Watching him, I exhaled my words. “Oh. My. God. Carlos?” My hand—my whole body, every muscle and bone—shook harder. Neither one of us had extra money saved. I had no idea how he would have afforded such a beautiful ring.
“Grace Mills, the absolute love of my life…” He paused. “Will you marry me?”
I gasped. My hands flew to my mouth. But then I dropped to the ground right alongside him as if I’d lost both kneecaps. Standing over him was too far away. I couldn’t imagine my life—any life—without Carlos right beside me. My lip quivered as my eyes searched his. “Carlos…”
His eyes grew wider and he swallowed hard, waiting.
But then I smiled at him as tears filled my eyes. “I’d be honored to marry you.”
He looked down at me with a smile that I’d run all day to reach if necessary. His eyes moistened in both corners before he crushed me to his chest.
Behind us, the bell jingled over the door. Uncle Mario marched inside, a bulky brown box balanced between his hands. Two of his restaurant chefs followed after him, pulling a dolly stacked with more boxes.
Tears flowed down my cheeks as I wrapped my arms around Carlos. His hands cradled my face in his hands. His thumb caught one of my tears. Then he leaned down to kiss me as though we were the only two people in the room.
Too soon, we pulled apart, still kneeling together on the floor, alternating between breathless bursts of laughing and crying. But I memorized that moment in that instant. I wanted to cherish it right here, right now, and always.
Uncle Mario stood inside the door with his startled gaze alternating between us. His eyes lowered to the sparkle on my left hand, and then a grin spread across his face. “Hey, Jefe,” he called to the man behind him. It was Marco, another one of Carlos’s cousins. And now mine, too. “Go fetch the box with the champagne. Pronto, por favor. Looks like the celebration has already started.”
From The Scones & Sopapillas Café Cookbook:
GRACE’S RASPBERRY COMFORT SCONES
2 cups flour
½ cup granulated white sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons butter, cold and cut into small squares
¾ cup raspberries
½ cup plain yogurt
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 large egg, lightly beaten
Generous amounts of jazz music
Ready your iPod, CD player, record player, or radio dial. Crank the jazz.
Preheat oven to 375 degrees and place rack in middle of oven.
Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
Blend the butter into the flour mixture till it looks coarse. Stir in the raspberries.
In a separate bowl, whisk together the yogurt, vanilla extract, and egg. Add this to the flour mixture and stir until the dough begins to form. Do not overmix.
Transfer to a lightly floured surface and knead the dough gently no more than six times.
Pat or roll the dough into a circle until it is roughly 7 inches round and 1.5 inches thick.
Cut the dough into eight triangles and place the scones on the baking sheet.
Bake for approximately 20 minutes or until golden brown. Sprinkle with powdered sugar and then place them under the broiler for a few seconds, turning the pan as necessary. Tr
ansfer to a wire rack to cool.
Makes 8 scones.
Warning: You will be tempted to eat all of them. Make sure to save one for later.
ELENA’S SOPAPILLAS
4 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons shortening
1½ cups warm water
2 quarts oil for frying
Honey (optional)
Powdered sugar (optional)
Friends to chat with as you bake
In a large bowl, stir together flour, baking powder, salt and shortening. Stir in water and mix until the dough is smooth. Cover and let stand for 20 minutes.
Roll out on floured board until 1/8 to 1/4 inch thick. Cut into 3 inch squares.
Heat oil in deep-fryer to 375 degrees. Fry until golden brown on both sides. Drain on paper towels and serve hot. Drizzle generously with honey and/or powdered sugar. Preferably both.
Makes 24. Give half to your best friend.
About the Author
Born and raised in Park Ridge, Illinois, Liz moved to the American Southwest after college, never expecting to live more than one year among cactus and people who’d never seen snow. She was wrong. When she’s not busy writing her next novel, Liz likes to pretend that one day she’ll finish a triathlon. She also likes to travel, visit museums, support local theater productions and cook Italian dishes that taste as good as her mother’s. Liz and her husband live in Phoenix, Arizona. You can visit her website at www.lizfichera.com.
Where no great story goes untold.
The variety you want to read, the stories authors have always wanted to write.
With new releases every week, your next great read is just a download away!
Keep in touch with Carina Press:
Read our blog: www.CarinaPress.com/blog
Follow us on Twitter: www.twitter.com/CarinaPress
Become a fan on Facebook: www.facebook.com/CarinaPress
ISBN: 978-1-4268-9193-9
Copyright © 2011 by Liz Fichera
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.CarinaPress.com