“Good,” she retorted.
She stacked her empty bowl on top of her brother’s and pushed them aside. She rested her chin on her knees. The gardenia to the left of the steps perfumed the air. She breathed it in and sighed.
“I told him to be good to you,” Hutton said.
She smiled at him. “Again, it’s Graham. That’s a given.” The small knot of worry in her stomach begin to unravel.
Jack looked up when a horn honked. Jerry Jenkins slowed as he drove past her house. He held his arm out the open window in greeting. She waved back. She stared after him, even as his truck disappeared down the street.
“How’s he doing?” Hutton asked.
“Okay,” she said. “He’s still coming in a few times a week. I’m not sure the shop would’ve fared as well as we did if he hadn’t shown the whole town he was on our side.”
“He was always a nice guy.”
“It sucks when nice guys get their hearts broken.”
As if on cue, Harper pulled into the driveway and parked behind Hutton’s car. Jack wasn’t sure if her siblings had talked at all since her brother had tried to apologize a day or two earlier.
“Got a call from Mason last night,” Harper said as she nudged Jack over and rested against the wall. “I couldn’t make myself pick up, but he left a message.”
“Have you listened to it?” Jack asked.
“He’s gonna come back in a few days to talk. Turns out he picked up a couple new fans at his show last night.”
Jack shifted over a few inches when her sister poked her with her foot. “He’s really good.” It came out as a justification. Like she had to defend going to a concert and liking it.
Harper sighed and lifted a hand to her belly. When she realized what she’d done, she sat on her hands. “Yeah, I know he is.”
“You should talk to him,” Hutton said. He stared over her shoulder. He picked at a crack between two stones on the porch. “See what he has to say.”
“This coming from the guy who started an argument with him every chance you got just to see if you could run him off,” Harper said.
Hutton leaned around Jack finally meeting Harper’s glare. “We’ve already been over this whole I-was-a-jerk-and-I’m-sorry thing. No need to rehash it.”
“That doesn’t mean we’ve forgiven you,” Jack said.
“What? I thought since you and Graham, you know, that we were good,” Hutton said.
Harper prodded Jack with her foot again. “So, you and Graham, you know?” she asked, mimicking their brother’s tone.
Jack couldn’t help but smile. She felt it all the way to her toes.
“It’s about damn time,” Harper said.
The air pulsed with the scent of vanilla and honey. Though it was warm as it pressed against her, Jack’s skin broke out in goose bumps.
“There’re cupcakes inside, Harp. I don’t know what kind. Hutton brought them to bribe me into forgiving him,” Jack said. Still giddy from her night with Graham, she didn’t think she could stay mad much longer.
“Maybe you should try them on me,” Harper said.
Hutton stood and ducked inside for the box. When he leaned down to hand one to Harper, she smooshed it in his face. He rocked back on his heels and stared at her despite the icing that clung to his glasses. Wiping it off, he flung his hands so bits flew off in every direction.
Specs of it splattered on Jack’s hair and arms. She hadn’t meant to laugh at him, but the giggle bubbling out of Harper was infectious. For the first time in days, there was a glimmer of the old Harper coming back.
It couldn’t happen fast enough.
***
Bicyclists, media, and fans descended on Sugar in droves. It was like the swarm of cicadas Jack had heard about invading a small college town up north every thirteen years. People were everywhere. With half the streets barricaded, traffic was abysmal as Jack tried to navigate around pedestrians and bicycles and tourists who didn’t have a clue where they were going. She hadn’t planned on getting close to the shop, but getting into downtown was turning into more of a hassle than she’d anticipated.
By the time she found a place to park and hoofed it to the shop, Harper and Graham had already opened. The front door was propped open, inviting in people in town for the race as well as a sugary breeze.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she said.
“So nice of you to join us this morning, Jaclyn,” Harper said.
“It’s a madhouse out there. If half of them come in this weekend—” She shuddered.
“That’s why you’re on counter duty.” Harper handed her an apron and shoved her out of the kitchen.
Graham smiled at her through the pass-through window. “You should’ve stayed at my place again,” he said.
“Should’ve,” she said, thinking of the year before when they’d fallen asleep on his couch watching Futurama reruns. “Next year.”
“Not that you two aren’t cute, but knock it off,” Harper said. “We’ve got work to do.”
Jack saluted her and said, “Yes, ma’am.” She turned her back on them and waved to a little girl whose face was pressed against the front window. She turned to follow her sister into the back, but paused as a flash of blond caught her eye. Across the street, Tabitha was wrapped around Chet Keller, arms tangled and mouths plastered together. Her dress was hiked up in the back by his clumsy pawing and pink underwear peeked out from underneath.
Walking up behind Jack, Graham slipped his arm around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder to follow her gaze. “Something good out there?” he asked.
“Tabitha making out with Chet in the middle of the sidewalk. Guess she’s finally decided if everyone knows, why hide it anymore.”
“No, she finally realized no one believed her when she tried to blame you.”
“A few of them did,” she said.
“Just ignore her.” Graham tugged on her ponytail to get her to turn around. He wrapped the silky strands around his fingers. “I’ll be in the back if you decide you want to go out there and show them how it’s done.”
She rolled her eyes and shoved his chest to get him moving before Harper snapped at them again.
Customers came in with a battery of scents and accents. They’d come from New York and Missouri and New Mexico to ride or watch. Though the cyclists were still in hard-core training, many of them stopped in to see what the buzz was all about.
“I hear y’all are doing the dessert for the kickoff party,” one said as he surveyed the display case.
“Too bad you’re not doing the after-party,” another said, leaning on the counter. His biceps bulged beneath the slick black shirt, a racing bib pinned to his chest. “Cupcakes would be a great way to celebrate a victory.”
Jack was bombarded with the smell of chocolate and peanut butter and raspberry and lemon. They came at her at once, but she could distinguish which biker went with each flavor. She smiled and said, “My baker’s racing, too. If you manage to beat him, I’ll send you home with whatever you can carry.”
“You’re on,” he said. He winked at her before he walked out and melted into the crowd on the sidewalk.
She caught Graham watching her from a few feet away. “What?”
“No pressure, there, huh?” Graham said.
“You’ve got this,” she said. She leaned into him, lips hovering millimeters from his. “We both know stamina’s not a problem.” Jack brushed past him into the kitchen. He stared after her, eyebrows raised in amusement.
“So, how are we looking? I want to make sure everything is ready for the unveiling this afternoon,” she asked.
Graham followed her after a moment, and focused on the array of cupcakes that were back to their vibrant, perfect swirls of icing. “The cupcakes are almost done. You’ve gotta see what Harp did to the tables,” Graham said.
Three of the tables had been covered with completed cupcakes. The fourth had been painted with the scene that would be reflected on the remainde
r of the cupcakes. The painting continued to the edges, keeping the scene going.
“That’s pretty damn cool, Harp,” she said. She traced her fingers along the paint. It peaked in rough ridges and descended into smooth plains. The spots where colors were layered two or three thick were still a little tacky to the touch. Her finger left a small indention in the surface. “It’s gonna look awesome even when the cups are gone.”
“That’s the idea,” Harper said.
The snarkiness was back, but her eyes still looked blank. Jack hoped it meant Harper was getting better.
“I want two people on each table to make sure they stay as steady as possible on the walk down to the main tent. If we enlist Hutton and Daddy, we might be able to pull this off,” she said.
“Hutton’s coming at twelve thirty. He’s also bringing some chairs in case y’all want to sit out front and watch,” Graham interjected. “Your parents and my mom went to grab breakfast for everyone.”
“At the rate things are moving out there, they might not make it back before your first race,” she said.
***
The streets teemed with people. Kids played on the sidewalks and were pulled back by shirt collars and hoods before they made it into the oncoming hoard of bicycles. Festivities and smaller races had been going on for the better part of an hour when Hutton arrived. He lined the chairs in front of the sparkling-clean windows to save their places for later in the afternoon.
“It’s getting nice out there,” he said when he came inside. “The breeze is a little nippy, but at least all your hard work isn’t going to melt off into little, colored puddles.”
“Thanks for that image,” Jack said. She shook her head and shivered.
“I meant it to cheer you up. That’s one less worry you need to have crammed in that pretty head of yours. So where is this monstrosity we’ve got to move?”
“In the back. We’ve got about ten minutes before we need to go.”
She led him back and explained that she’d arranged for a police escort to keep the path clear. It was less than a five-minute walk to the main tent, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
“Isn’t that a little overkill?” Hutton asked.
She said, “No, overkill would be killing you for dropping a cupcake. Which I very well might do, so please don’t test me.”
It was a tight fit out the door, but they made it with an inch to spare on either side. Thalia sat on the sidewalk with Aria, just barely out of the way. She licked pink frosting from her lips and tipped her head toward Jack as she approached. An unspoken concession. Jack smiled back, not caring that it probably looked as smug as it felt. Harper stayed behind to man the counter while the rest trekked toward event central.
The casters squeaked and rattled as they guided the tables down the narrow sidewalk. Passersby stared. The white sheets covering the cupcakes flapped in the breeze. It billowed up and pulled against the wooden rods attached to the middle of both ends that ensured it never got closer than a foot to the top of the cupcakes.
The four blocks felt like miles. People stopped on the streets to watch them. Kids squealed and mothers snapped pictures without knowing what was hidden underneath. Jack smiled and told them they’d all just have to follow and see when they asked what they were transporting.
By the time they reached the main tent, Jack had worked up a sweat. She prayed that nothing had shifted during transit. They maneuvered the tables into place just as Melanie approached.
“What’s all this?” she asked.
“I think you’ll like it,” Jack said without actually answering the question. She motioned for Graham to grab the other side, and they lifted the sheet for their client to get the full impact.
“Oh, oh, oh! It’s fabulous. Just incredible.” Her voice squeaked an octave or two higher than her normal pitch. She ducked her head under the tarp for a closer look. Her voice was muffled when she continued, “Do we get to keep these tables? They’re amazing. We could use them every year. Did your sister make them, too?”
“She painted it, but her husband designed and built them. He’s a genius with a saw.”
“Oh, I’d thought he’d left town,” Melanie said. She looked around the crowd, smiling and waving.
Jack tensed. Town gossip was the last thing her sister needed. “He had a few things to take care of,” she said. She looked up as someone in the crowd called her name. She smiled and turned back to Melanie. “I’m sure I can work something out to let you use the tables again though. Especially if Crumbs is handling the cups.”
“You know you will be. Now, let’s show them off!” Melanie wrapped one arm around Jack’s shoulder and kissed the air near both of Jack’s cheeks. When she walked away, her perfume lingered.
Jack fanned the air before joining Graham near the side of the tent to watch the unveiling. The colors seemed shades brighter in the sunlight. The air was thick with the scent of them. The crowd cheered in a chorus of oohs and aahs worthy of the Fourth of July fireworks extravaganza. She waved when Melanie pointed her out for a round of applause. As she hadn’t done the baking or the decorating, she felt like a fraud accepting the gratitude, but as the public face of the company, she smiled and bowed her head in appreciation.
They posed for picture after picture. Elected officials, loyal customers, and race fans all wanted a turn. Jack’s cheeks hurt after twenty minutes. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” she said without breaking her smile.
Graham rubbed his hand up her back. “Guess it’s good that I’ve got an escape plan worked out.” He smiled at Melanie and said, “I’m sorry. I’ve gotta run. I’ve got my qualifying race in a half hour.”
“Oh, you better hurry,” Melanie said. She reached over and kissed him on the cheek. Then she did the same to Jack’s. “Y’all were brilliant.”
The mass of spectators packed in around the cupcake display. The constant murmur of “mmm” and “ooh” and “oh, my God” whispered in the air. Jack wasn’t sure she’d ever heard a better sound.
“Yeah, we kinda were,” she said.
Graham took Jack’s hand as they walked away. Despite his rush to get ready for his race, he kept their pace slow, leaning in to whisper, “First victory of the day. Feels really damn good, doesn’t it?”
His lips grazed her ear, sending a park of desire coursing through her. “God, it really does,” she said, laughing.
The sun was warm and she turned her face up to it, eyes closed to enjoy it. Sweet scents and creamy, delectable scents nudged their way in. Scents that made her think of first dates and slow dances and spinning in circles in the middle of a merry-go-round. A little lightheaded, she blinked against the sunlight. She returned greetings and accepted congratulations every few feet.
She sidestepped kids who’d lined up for the five-and-under tricycle race and counted the number of families who were already feasting on treats from Crumbs. She made it to thirty before she reached the shop. And the line trailing out the door and into the street promised that number wouldn’t stop growing anytime soon.
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The biggest thank you to my husband Mark for putting up with me ignoring him every NaNoWriMo since 2009 and countless nights and weekends over the years so that I could live with these and other characters. I couldn’t have done this without you, even though I’m sure it seemed that way while I was lost in my own little world.
Lots of love to my sister Karen Johnson for being my polar opposite in so many ways but who always says the same thing at the same time as me. I would not be me if it weren’t for you. <3
To my parents, George and Susan Bishop and Elwynn and Hal Schwartz, thank you for not laughing when I said I wanted to major in creative writing and for never wavering in your belief that I would be published one day. I owe y’all more than I can ever repay. And to my in-laws, Gary and Pat Crispell, for always treating me like one of your own.
Serious gratitude to JoAn and Stacy Shaw fo
r taking care of me and being my family away from home; Krysti Wetherill, Lindsay Fletcher Smith, Erin Capps, Suzanne Junered, Sarah Collier, Ashley Williams, Donna McCall, and Thalia Floyd for demanding to read my books and loving them simply because you love me, but mostly for being the coolest chicks on the planet; Aria Gilchrist for making sure Karen and I became friends and being my second sister for so many years now; Ashley Harp and Katherine Vernon for thinking I’m cool enough to hang out with you, and for being the names at the end of the sentence “When I grow up, I want to be … ”; and Britt Scheliga and Julie Martin for always talking books with me and making the slow days go by much faster.
A lifetime of Muppet flails to all of my brilliant/talented/fangirling/insert-kickass-adjective-here online writing friends, especially Rebekah Faubion, Jessica Honiotes, and Sam Hager, for sharing my love of books, swoony boys, and baked goods; for supporting Love and Cupcakes without having read it first; and for making me a better writer. One for all, and all for fangirling.
A huge thank you to my editor Georgia McBride for loving Love and Cupcakes enough to want to publish it, and to Mandy Schoen for finding it in a contest and introducing me to the Swoon Romance family.
Susan Bishop Crispell
Susan Bishop Crispell is not one of those writers who's been scribbling down stories since she could hold a pencil. She didn't read constantly growing up (blasphemy!), and she can still be found in public without a book tucked into her purse (again with the blasphemy!).
She is, however, the kind of writer who lives for the imaginative spark that introduces her to a new character or story idea that pushes her to turn everyday life into something magical.
Love and Cupcakes Page 28