by Ellis, Aven
“Mom,” I say, “not everyone is going to want to eat three mini brownies. And remember, the bakery is due here any minute with the passion fruit filled cupcakes, and that is the showpiece of your dessert display.”
“I don’t want people to think I don’t know how to throw a proper party and make sure there’s enough food for everyone,” Mom declares dramatically, putting her hand delicately on her chest. “That kind of thing is talked about in my circles. Everything has to be perfect tonight.”
“I think people are going to be talking about the fact that you had a vibrator party more than the number of brownies served,” Amanda quips as she slices a strawberry.
I hold back a laugh as Mom shoots Amanda the evil eye.
“How many times do I have to explain this?” Mom says with exasperation in her voice. “It is a passion party, Amanda.”
I ignore Mom as she goes on about how the party has blossomed to include not just women who are without men, but women who are married, in relationships, etc., but they are all seeking to enhance sexual passion in their lives.
“Take you, for example, Amanda. Ryan is on the road a lot when he’s producing during baseball season,” Mom says in an obvious tone. “And your needs shouldn’t stop because of that simple fact, if you know what I’m saying.”
And then my mom winks at Amanda.
Shit! I immediately become immersed in my brownies, hoping Mom doesn’t shift the conversation to me. If she asks if I’m sleeping with Nate I’ll die. She’s been so preoccupied with her first big post-divorce party that she hasn’t even been on Tumble to tell me all the latest news on Nate being in love with Harrison or to grill me about him.
Of course, I could always tell her that yes, I’m madly in love with Nate and sex with him is phenomenal. But that would lead to an epic mother meltdown and warnings about how he’s gay and using me and am I ready for this since my previous judgment about men is utter shit.
No. It’s best that I stay invisible right now.
And buy a vibrator to ensure I remain lecture-free.
“Well, I’m glad baseball season is over then,” Amanda declares, interrupting my thoughts. “It’s October, and the Dallas Coyotes aren’t in the playoffs, so I can be sexually fulfilled without placing an order for a dildo tonight.”
“Would you quit calling it that?” Mom says, exasperated. “They are pleasure enhancement devices.”
Don’t lose it. Don’t lose it, I will myself, biting down on my lip to keep from laughing. Stay invisible.
Suddenly my cell phone rings, and I glance at the caller ID. I quickly wipe my hands on a towel and answer it. “Hello?”
“Oh, Kenley!” Lisa, the baker, cries. “We have a disaster on our hands!”
Oh no. Please no. CiCi doesn’t do disasters. Ever.
“Um, yes?” I say, trying my best to sound casual and carefree.
“I’m on Central Expressway. I’ve been rear-ended by a cement mixing truck.”
“Are you okay?” I ask in concern. “Lisa, are you hurt?”
Amanda and Mom are staring at me, and I walk to the French doors that lead from the breakfast nook to Mom’s patio.
“No, I’m fine but the cupcakes aren’t,” Lisa cries. “They went flying. Everything is ruined, and I won’t have anything for you tonight. I’m so, so, sorry.”
I open the door and shut it behind me so I have privacy. “Lisa, that’s irrelevant. As long as you’re not hurt, that’s the main thing here.”
Lisa begins to cry. “You are the nicest client ever,” she says, her voice cracking. “Thank you. I swear I’ll make it up to you on your next order.”
“Lisa, don’t worry, I’m good,” I say.
“Okay. Um, I need to go, the police officer pulled up. I’ll call you Monday.”
I wish Lisa good luck and hang up. Okay. Okay. I have dealt with party crises before, and most of the time I can come up with a solution that the client finds acceptable.
Unfortunately for me, this time the client is CiCi.
Which means this is a crisis of the highest order.
I begin to pace on the patio. The cupcakes are gone. This leaves me short on food for 20 women who are going to be indulging on all levels tonight.
And the cupcakes were the focal point of the display, too.
Shit.
The party starts in an hour and a half. Lexi is in Austin, attending a video editing seminar. Otherwise I’d beg her to pick up some cupcakes and edible flowers from the store and bring them here. I’m going to have to have Amanda do it. I’ll take over the fondue prep while she gets them and hope I can finish the food display while she’s gone.
My cell phone rings in my hand, and I flip it over.
It’s Nate.
I answer it. “Nate? Can I call you back in a few minutes? I’m dealing with a party crisis right now.”
“What’s that? Did CiCi forget to buy batteries?”
Okay, despite my crisis, I burst out laughing.
“No. But my passion fruit cupcakes are destroyed somewhere on Central Expressway in a rear-ending,” I explain. “And I need to have Amanda stop chopping fruit, run over to Central Market, buy whatever she can get her hands on and bring them back for the party.”
“I can do that,” Nate says quickly. “In fact, I’m about an intersection away from Central Market.”
What? Nate come up here? To the passion party?
Oh no. No, no, no, no.
“Um, Nate, that’s sweet of you, but it’s not necessary,” I say quickly. “This is out of your way.”
“And you don’t think CiCi is going to freak when she learns not only are her cupcakes smashed on Central Expressway, but that one of her staff members has to leave to do an assist?”
Crap. Nate does have a point. I’d been telling him all week how CiCi had been dictating to us like staffers about this party, down to suggested wardrobe for tonight.
She’s going to flip over the cupcakes, but sending Amanda on the mission is only going to make it worse.
“You have me on the phone now,” Nate continues. “I’m right next to Central Market. Let me do this for you, Bae. You’ll save time.”
“But, Nate, you’re going to meet my mother for the first time at a passion party? This is so many levels of . . . of . . . wrong!” I sputter.
“Maybe I’m trying to crash the party because I want to place an order,” Nate teases. “CiCi is going to have handcuffs, right?”
I groan, and Nate laughs.
“Nate, I can’t let you do this.”
“Oh, not only can you, but you need to,” Nate says firmly.
Suddenly I feel as though I’m being watched. I glance at the window and see CiCi’s face pressed up against the glass, a look of deep concern on her face.
I swallow. Nate’s right. He’s my best option.
“I’ll let you do this only if you let me make this up to you,” I say.
“Oh, I intend to send you a list of things that I’ll accept as a form of payment. Starting with a kiss.”
I blush from the sexy implication in Nate’s voice.
“Now tell me what you need,” he says firmly.
“Okay. If you can get 20 full-sized chocolate cupcakes, that would be ideal. If you can’t, ten vanilla and ten chocolate is Option B. If that doesn’t work, get anything you can without designs on it.”
“Got it.”
“Then go to the herbs in the produce section and grab some edible flowers.”
“What?”
I laugh at Nate’s repulsion. “They are fine to eat, Nate. Get at least ten packages if they have them.”
“Why would I want to eat a flower?”
“It’s not curry chocolate, why are you questioning t
his?”
“It’s a freaking flower!”
“I’m so going to get you to eat one.”
“No.”
I laugh at the abrupt way he says it. And just for that reason, I mentally add edible flowers next to curry chocolate on the things I will get Nate to try.
“That’s it. I’ll text you CiCi’s address, and then get up here as soon as you can.”
“You got it, Bae. I’m on it.”
“I know you are,” I say softly. “And I can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing. And I’m apologizing in advance for what you’re going to encounter tonight.”
“Come on, she’s your mother. How bad can it be?”
Right. Nate has normal parents. He has no clue what he is about to walk into this evening.
I say goodbye and hang up the phone. All I can hope now is that after this whole night—CiCi, bitter divorcees, a pleasure party—that Nate doesn’t run screaming in the other direction.
Chapter 25
Double Boiler: Two pans that fit together, with the bottom one holding water that is brought to a simmer. The top one is used so you can put something over indirect heat to cook it. I use them for melting chocolate — Kenley
“You did what?” CiCi screams in panic. “You invited Nate to come here? Tonight?”
I feel a headache building in my temples. “Mom, Nate is coming by to drop off cupcakes. That’s it. Then he’ll be gone.”
“Unless he wants to check out the goods,” Amanda quips, dumping the strawberries into an elegant serving bowl.
I shoot Amanda a look. “He’s not interested in the goods, I promise you.”
“Maybe I’m not talking about those goods,” Amanda says, raising her eyebrows at me.
“Both of you stop,” Mom hisses. “I’m the one who is mortified. You’re introducing me to your boyfriend, for the first time, during a passion party? Seriously, Kenley? What on earth made you think this was a good idea? How could you do this to me?”
Okay, now I’m getting pissed.
“Mom, I’m not doing anything but helping you. Nate isn’t going to stay. In fact, he’s going to come in, drop off the cupcakes, and then leave. He’s doing you a huge favor by getting them for you. He’s had a long day, with practice, an autograph session and a photo shoot, and you should appreciate him doing this for you, period.”
Mom dramatically tosses her head. “I would have rather not had cupcakes than to deal with this humiliation. I look like a desperate, sex-deprived old hag!”
I’m about to lay into her when Amanda beats me to it.
“I thought you were a mature woman seeking self-satisfying pleasure,” Amanda says pointedly.
“Oh, don’t be smart with me,” Mom snaps.
The doorbell rings, and I know it’s Olivia, the passion party planner, who is here to set up and go over the party with Mom.
“Well, this will be the worst coming out of divorce party in the history of the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex,” Mom declares, striding toward the front door.
Amanda and I remain silent as we hear Mom’s heels clicking against the hardwood floor. We hear Mom open the front door, and then Mom shifts into perfect CiCi mode.
“Olivia, it’s so wonderful to see you,” CiCi coos. “Please, come in.”
I can hear Olivia talking excitedly about the party and how much fun it is going to be tonight, blah, blah, blah, when they enter the kitchen.
“Olivia, I’d like for you to meet Amanda and Kenley, my daughters,” CiCi says, her face fixed into one of motherly pride. And I almost lose it, knowing how she was ready to throttle both of us less than a minute ago.
“Oh, yes, Cecily has told me so much about both of you,” Olivia says, striding over to each of us and shaking our hands. Olivia’s dark eyes shift to me with interest. “And you own a confection consultation company, right?”
“I do,” I say, moving back behind the island and turning on a burner for the double boiler so I can make the fondue. “Confection Consultations.”
“And Cecily told me you did some themed take-home party bags for tonight?”
I nod. “Yes, I created a chocolate coconut bubble bath mix. It’s a mixture of dark chocolate cocoa powder, powdered milk, and a few other things. I put that in a packet and attached a small bottle of coconut shampoo with it, and when you combine them together you have an amazing sensual bath.”
“I love this idea,” Olivia raves. She opens her cross-body bag, rifles through it, and retrieves a business card. “Maybe we can talk about how you could provide some services to my clients hosting parties.”
Okay, all this crap with CiCi might be worth it if her friends want to throw parties and use my services.
“I’d like that,” I say, taking her card. “I’ll give you my card tonight, but I’ll follow up with you next week,” I say, smiling at her.
Olivia then sweeps Mom into the living room, where they begin setting up things for the party.
Amanda picks up her cutting board and knife and rinses them off in the copper farmhouse kitchen sink, and then slides up next to me as I begin prepping the chocolate for the fondue.
“So did you try out that sensual bath with Nate?” Amanda whispers.
“Perhaps I did,” I say smoothly.
Okay, that’s a lie. I totally tried it out with Nate.
And it was the sexiest bath ever.
Amanda pauses for a moment. “You’re in love with him.”
I jerk my head up. “How . . . what?” I sputter. “How do you know that?”
“After what happened with Asshat,” Amanda says, as she refuses to say Chase’s name, “and how badly he hurt you, I knew you wouldn’t give yourself to another man unless you were close to being in love.”
“You can sleep with someone and not be in love,” I say truthfully.
“Yeah, but the look on your face confirmed it. You look so happy, Kenley. I’ve never seen this expression before, and it appeared when I was teasing you about having sex with Nate. You’re in love with him.”
I swallow hard and dump the chocolate into the double-boiler pan. “Well, it’s still early, Mand. Nate hasn’t said he loves me, and he’s firm on not rushing into this. So I just have to see where this goes.”
“I feel good about it,” Amanda says. “There are some things you get a feeling about. This is one of them.”
Suddenly her phone buzzes. Amanda heads over to the kitchen table and lifts it out of her purse. “It’s Ryan. Hold on.”
“Hey, Baby,” Amanda says.
I’m lost in my thoughts as Amanda talks to Ryan. I pray with all my heart that Amanda’s instincts are right. Of course, I feel that Nate’s falling for me, but it will take him longer to verbalize it. But having Amanda say she thinks the same thing makes me trust my gut that much more.
“Wow,” Amanda says, dropping her phone back in her bag. “There’s a serious production problem on the Dallas Demons crew.”
“Like what?” I ask, stirring my chocolate.
“Well, Ryan has always said the producer and the director hate each other,” Amanda says. “That’s well known inside Total Access Total Sports. But they came to blows in a conference room today.”
“Seriously?” I say, surprised.
“The producer has been suspended,” Amanda continues. “And Ryan is freaking out because he might have to produce opening night next Wednesday.”
I nearly drop my spoon. “No way!”
“Yes,” Amanda says. “Ryan knows hockey but not in the same way he knows baseball. If they fire Mark Haven, Ryan is going to have to fill in until they get a new producer in the chair.”
“Wait . . . Ryan will be producing Dallas Demons games?”
“Possibly. All I can say is the
y’d better get a replacement in there quick because I want him home now that baseball season is over.”
I nod. I know Amanda juggles it all so well when Ryan is on the road, and she does it because she loves him, but fall and winter have always been their time to be together.
“Well, Ryan will make that clear, right?”
“Yes. Or I’ll go down there and make it clear myself,” Amanda says, grinning. “But Ryan knows some guy in Seattle, a fill-in hockey producer, who is desperate to get a shot to produce his own package and he can suggest him. But in the meantime, Ryan can be our spy on the road. He’ll be traveling with Nate.”
I burst out laughing. “Okay, how did our planets line up so this would happen? I’m dating a hockey player. My brother-in-law will be the default producer for his team and will produce his games?”
My phone buzzes. I lean over and see that it’s Nate.
“Hello?” I say, picking up the phone.
“Okay, Bae, the good news is I have all chocolate cupcakes and those freakish edible flowers you wanted,” Nate says.
I brace myself. “And the bad news?”
“I’m stuck on the tollway. There’s an accident, and it’s bumper to bumper.”
My headache goes up another notch. “Okay. Estimated time of arrival?”
“At this rate? Seven.”
Shit. Nate will be walking in with the party guests, and CiCi will be in hysterics.
“I just wanted to let you know,” Nate says, interrupting my thoughts. “But I’m on my way, so don’t worry. You’ll have cupcakes. With edible flowers.”
Suddenly I don’t give a shit if CiCi freaks out or not. Here’s Nate, chasing down cupcakes and edible flowers and sitting in miles of traffic simply because it’s for me.