Harper’s laugh hit her full force, like a collision at seventy-five on the highway. What she wouldn’t give for her sister to be that comfortable around her. She had seen brief glimpses of it before in the very un-Harper like worry. The way her sister had insisted she could handle the job as if she filled in for absentee counter girls on a regular basis.
Maybe she had. Jack didn’t really know what her sister had done while she was away. She had no clue if Harper had any experience in food service or customer service, or even just daily interaction with people. She’d have to ask.
But she’d given Jack the break she needed. Time to let her stomach calm down and for her head to screw itself back on tight.
When she stepped through the door into the shop, she realized it was a customer, not Graham, who had her sister laughing. Maybe giving her a job wouldn’t be the end of the world.
“Oh, Jaclyn, honey. They said you were sick. How are you feeling?” Mrs. Barber asked. She reached out and stroked a hand down Jack’s arm.
A quick jolt of chocolate and pecan flavored the air. Jack prayed Mrs. Barber didn’t know the cupcake also had a hint of bourbon in it. She took a shallow breath just in case. “I’ve been better, thanks. Did you get everything you needed?”
“I sure did. Harper here took good care of me.”
She mumbled, “Good,” and walked into the back. The harsh florescent lights buzzed faintly and she blinked at their hazy, yellow glow.
Graham was standing at the worktable with a mass of unfrosted cupcakes spread before him. Five plastic bowls filled with different colored icing lined the edge of the table. He had spatulas of varying sizes laid out like paint brushes before his blank canvas.
“Whatcha doing?” she asked. When he turned, her heart stopped. The concern in his eyes was palpable. It was as sweet as the best cupcake she had ever eaten. She wanted to drown in it.
He fumbled the cupcake in his hand. It landed face down in the bowl of cactus green icing. “Hey, you’re up. Feeling any better?”
“Yeah. Not 100 percent, but considerably better than earlier.”
“Good. You looked like death warmed over.”
“Felt like it, too,” she said. She leaned against the table when her legs threatened to give in. “Thanks for helping me upstairs. I don’t think I could’ve made it on my own.”
“Honey, you passed out. If I’d been any slower you’d have a cracked skull to go with the nausea.”
Jack rubbed her arms to smooth the hairs back down. She’d never passed out before. Couldn’t, in fact, remember the last time she’d been sick enough to throw up.
“You scared me.” He didn’t look at her. His voice was warm, but shaky. “Scared your sister so bad she had to run to the bathroom and toss up her breakfast, too,” he added.
“You’re a brave man to put up with us today.”
Graham cut his eyes to her without turning his head. His fingers deftly coated the top of the cupcake he held without looking at it. “I’ve seen worse.”
She motioned to the spread before them. “Five colors at once? Are you sick?”
“Showing Harp how to do the icing. Not surprising, she’s a whiz at mixing colors.”
“And how’s she been with the customers? She hasn’t threatened to cut anybody’s fingers off, has she?”
He hesitated, a short intake of breath that had her stomach reeling. His arm snaked around her to settle on her left hip—whether it was to steady her or keep her in place she didn’t know. She shifted her weight so that much of it was resting against him.
“She was a lot like you, actually,” he said. He steered her toward the office chair and nudged her into it. “She smiled and chatted and even flirted a little with Danny when he stopped in to look at the oven again. Turns out the sarcastic bit is all a ruse to fool the rest of us into thinking she’s incapable of human interaction so that we’ll leave her to her art.”
“She wants a job,” Jack said.
He nodded. A faint smile playing on his lips. “I think she’d be good. With customers and with the cakes. And you’ve been saying we could use some help.”
“I need to think about it. But first I need a shower. Mind driving me home?”
“And leave Harper all alone?”
“Sink-or-swim time,” she said.
seven
Jack was back at work the following morning well before her sister was even up. She inspected the floors, counters, and inventory for signs of neglect. She found none. Everything was in its place and accounted for.
Harper clomped down the stairs, a fluctuation of soft and loud on the old wood. When she burst through the door into the shop—belting out a song at a level that would’ve drowned Jack out if she had been talking—she let out a startled yelp.
“Ever heard of knocking?” Harper asked.
“Wow, I leave you here for one day and already you think you own it. That doesn’t bode well for you keeping the job, you know,” Jack said.
“Does this mean that if I stop annoying you I have a job?” Her face was impassive, the perfect illustration of boredom. Her words, however, came out as a quick jumble.
“Let’s say you’ve got a few days to prove yourself. Then we’ll see if we’re both still standing.”
Jack spent the next three days scrutinizing her sister’s every move. The way she greeted customers, described different flavors, packaged cupcakes. She watched as Harper cleaned the store, washed the dishes and still found time to argue with Graham about how to decorate the cupcakes with a little more flair.
Listening to Harper hum while she refilled the display case, Jack had yet to find any major fault.
“Now, he is all sorts of adorable,” Harper said.
Jack looked toward the back. When she found it empty, she turned back. Pete Carmichael chained his bicycle to a metal post out front. He grinned at her through the window and waved. She wrinkled her nose. “No, he is all sorts of way too young for me.”
Pete walked in, blond hair flopping in his eyes. A dimple formed in his right cheek. “Hey, Jaclyn, whatdaya have for me today?”
She watched him, smiling. The air vibrated around her. It was warm but sent a shiver up her arms. The scent of her perfume overpowered that of cake and icing. She gripped the edge of the counter and let her nails dig into the grooves in the wood. “How about toffee? It’s gonna sell out today.”
Pete rested his palms on the counter as he leaned toward her. “You know that’s not what I want.” His voice was whisper soft. “Tell me.”
“We don’t have gardenia cupcakes.” She took a step back.
“Maybe you should.”
Jack laughed despite herself. He might only be twenty, but the boy knew how to flirt. “I’m gonna have to change my perfume again, Pete.”
“No, don’t. I like this one.” His words came out in a rush, as if he was trying to stop her from jumping off a building.
“So do I. Until it’s the only thing I can smell.”
He straightened, pushing himself back an arm’s length, and sighed. “All right, all right. What do I want now?”
“That’s better,” Jack said and reached for a salted caramel. She handed it to him on a napkin.
“So who’s the newbie?” he asked with a nod toward Harper.
“Harper. My sister.”
“In that case, I may have to ask her out to make you jealous.” He winked at Harper. The navy and teal stripes in his shirt made his blue eyes seem even brighter.
Harper set the box she’d just assembled on the shelf under the counter. Hands on her hips, she raised her eyebrows at him in challenge. “Can you bake cupcakes, lover boy? Or do you just eat them?” she asked.
“I can open a bag of the store-bought stuff and throw in some ingredients if the need arises. Why?”
Jack winced. There’s never a need for cupcakes from a mix.
“You don’t stand a chance with her if you don’t bake,” Harper informed him.
“Don’t—�
� Jack started.
Pete barreled over her protest. Leaning on the counter again, he turned a wicked smile that brought out faint dimples in both cheeks on Harper. “Good to know. So all I’ve got to do is go to cooking school—”
“Pastry school,” Harper corrected as she started on her next box.
“Yeah, that. And then when I graduate, I just have to kidnap the current baker and swoop in like the hero with my mad cooking, I mean pastry, skills. And she’s mine?” He ticked the objectives off on his fingers.
“Exactly.”
“Piece of cake.” As if to prove his point, he took a bite of his cupcake. He sighed and let his hips sag farther into the edge of the counter.
Jack rolled her eyes. “There’s just one little problem with that scenario.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“You’re not Graham,” Harper said before Jack could respond. She fluttered her lashes and fanned herself with her hand.
“No,” Jack said, smacking her sister on the arm with the back of her hand. “Learning to bake will not help you pass the bar exam.”
Pete shrugged. “I’m only a sophomore. I’m supposed to change my major like ten times, aren’t I? Lawyer today, baker tomorrow. Who knows, I might even become an NBA superstar.” He polished off the cupcake, balled up the wrapper, and tossed it—basketball style—toward the trash can behind the counter. It circled the rim before plopping on the floor.
“Not likely,” Harper said. Crouching, she picked up the trash and dropped it in the can. “I’d stick with law.”
He rapped his hand flat on the counter before taking a few steps backward. “Yeah, well, if your baker doesn’t show up one day, you’ll know why,” he said.
Laughing, Jack waved bye as he reached the door.
Pete held the door for a waif-like Asian woman who didn’t bother to hide the fact that she checked him out on her way by. He grinned at Jack over the woman’s head.
Harper added another box to the pile and leaned close enough to Jack that their shoulders touched. She bumped her shoulder and whispered, “Determined, isn’t he?”
“It’s like I’ve become his guinea pig for flirting. Half the time I can’t tell if he’s serious,” Jack said. She shook her head and turned her attention to the woman who had come in. “What can I get for you today?”
Pointing over her shoulder at Pete’s retreating form, the customer said, “I’ll take one of those.” She bit her red-painted lip.
The smell of gardenias lingered in the air. Jack smiled despite herself. When the back door opened with a soft beep-beep and a rush of cool air, she couldn’t help turning toward Graham who’d just come in. “That one’s all yours if you want him,” she said, nodding toward the street.
“Would that I could. But I already have a date for tonight,” she said. She looked back and forth between Jack and Harper, her lips quirked up in a conspiratorial smile, and leaned closer. “And trying to squeeze in two boys in one night never ends well. Trust me. But there’s got to be something in the water in this town, right? I mean, how else would you explain the sheer number of hotties who come out of here? Speaking of which, was that Graham who just came in the back? I’m starving.”
“Oh, you know Graham?” Jack asked, her voice slightly higher than normal. Obviously she knows him. God, I sound like an idiot. She could feel her sister smirking at her and hated that she was so transparent when it came to him.
Harper bumped her shoulder again and disappeared into the back.
The woman pointed a slim finger at herself and said, “Pastry school friend. He borrowed my oven when yours crapped out a couple weeks ago. Now he owes me dinner. ” A few strands of dyed cobalt hair peeked out of the shiny black when she leaned forward into the light.
Not a date date. Jack pushed the niggle of jealousy back down. “Thalia, right? You deserve more than dinner for saving our asses.”
“Believe me, I was happy to have him around. Like I said, the boys around here are easy on the eyes,” Thalia said.
The air turned bitter and smoky on Jack’s lips. It pulsed against her skin with a dull warmth as a subtle hint of sugar and vanilla cake cut through the charred flavor. Burned cupcakes. The way Graham must’ve smelled the last time Thalia saw him. She wrinkled her nose.
Thalia’s mouth tugged to one side as she stared into the back room.
So maybe it is that kind of date.
“Can I ask you something?” Thalia asked in a hoarse whisper. She ducked her head, letting her hair fan out across the part of her face that was closest to the kitchen entrance. “Is Graham’s dad a real estate developer?”
“I know he used to be in construction. Why?” Jack asked.
“I think he’s working on my new building. Even if he wasn’t a Hollingsworth, I’d still bet a healthy portion of my customer base that Will is his dad. It’s like looking at Graham, just twenty-plus years older and a good forty pounds heavier. And let me tell you, he ages very nicely. They certainly grow ’em well in that family.”
Jack didn’t remember Graham’s dad from when they were young, but she’d seen pictures. The resemblance between the two had always pissed Graham off. Like it was some indicator that he would end up like his dad. She nodded, not sure what to say to Thalia.
Thalia glanced over Jack’s shoulder and rushed to continue. “I hate to put you on the spot like this, but I’m not sure if it’s something I should bring up with Graham or not. I kinda thought his dad was dead or something since he never talks about him. But I see Will a couple times a week and if it’s just a matter of hooking them up again, I can do that. But if Graham is opposed to seeing him, I’ll need to be prepared.”
“I didn’t realize Graham was going to be down there that much.”
Just the thought of it made her chest hurt. She stared out the window as the wind whipped soundlessly in the darkening sky.
“If I get my way he will. I’m willing to be patient though,” Thalia said and bit her lip again.
***
The sky was turning the color of a fresh bruise as night descended. It was still light enough that the streetlights had yet to turn on. The temperature had dropped six or seven degrees and what had been a slight breeze during the day had morphed into toe-curling wind that pushed Graham and Thalia into each other each time it gusted.
“Here,” he said, opening a door halfway down Magnolia Avenue.
Sweetwater Brewery smelled like hops and cheap pickup lines. The lights inside were dim. TVs flashed silently above the bar and in the corners. Graham scanned the list of seasonal brews scratched in capital letters on a ten-foot-tall chalkboard. He nodded to a couple guys at the bar. Their ties were loosened, sleeves rolled up as they flirted with the bartender, whose uniform was so tight she couldn’t have buttoned the top three buttons on her dress even if she’d wanted to.
Graham couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn a suit. He looked down and realized his apron was still tied around his waist. He tugged it off and stuck a corner of it in his back pocket. He found one of the last empty booths and took the side facing the bar. Thalia slid in across from him. Their legs bumped under the table.
The restaurant was packed, filled with families and college students and teenagers on dates. The din of voices and scraping cutlery made it easier to avoid the fact that the last time they’d talked, Thalia had asked him to come work with her. He caught her eying him over the menu, a half smile on her lips as if she was trying to work through a difficult crossword puzzle.
“Are you up for a little challenge?” Thalia asked.
“Same rules?” he asked, relaxing into the pliant faux-leather cushion.
“Better have your credit card handy. I’m hungry tonight.”
Laughing, Graham ordered a beer sampler from the waitress and started inventing flavor combinations that could rival Thalia’s before she’d made it back to the bar.
Thalia tied her raven hair back in a sloppy bun, securing it with a short stick she pull
ed from her purse. “And because we’re in your town, we can even limit it to cupcake flavors.” The napkin ripped when she tugged it from the holder. She used the jagged tear to separate the two columns and wrote their initials on top to keep score.
“Jack’s been wanting me to come up with some new flavors, so challenge accepted.”
Her mouth pressed in a thin line at the mention of Jack. Faint creases crinkled at the corners of her almond-shaped eyes. Graham sighed. He was thankful when she let the opportunity to press him about her offer pass.
The wood holder the waitress set on the table held six 4-ounce beer glasses in varying shades of brown. She ran through a quick explanation of the flavors and ingredients. Graham only half listened. Part of him wished he was there with Jack instead of Thalia, and he instantly felt guilty.
“You first,” Graham said. He lifted the raspberry wheat and handed it to Thalia.
She took a sip of the beer but didn’t swallow immediately. Her eyelids fluttered shut. “Dark chocolate with raspberry filling and a cream cheese frosting.”
Graham took the glass from her. The rim was wet where her lips had touched it. The lip balm smudge was waxy under his fingers. He inhaled the beer’s tangy scent. It was light, tart, but with just enough bite that the fruit took a backseat to the hops. It begged for a vanilla-based cake and a rich, raspberry frosting. “I’ll give you the raspberry, but not the chocolate. The wheat flavor would be overpowered. I’d say a crisp vanilla with raspberry filling and frosting and maybe a touch of honey to complement the subtleness of the beer.”
“Damn,” Thalia muttered. “You’re right.”
They tried the Hefeweizen next. Then the IPA. Graham took the first with a honey-lemon cake and whipped-cream frosting. Thalia won the IPA with chocolate-chili cake and ganache glaze. They moved on to the oatmeal stout then the porter. Both he and Thalia came up with similar chocolate and caramel creations that would enhance the dark hoppy flavors, making it decadent enough that half of one would be more than sufficient. After a few minutes of debate, they agreed to a tie.
Love and Cupcakes Page 8