by Debbie Mason
“I really wish I didn’t have to ask you to do this, Skye. But it’s my first big catering event, and I need your help. There’s a lot of influential people attending, and it’ll be great publicity for the bakery. I don’t want to mess it up.”
One more reason she shouldn’t be there, Skye thought. Half the people attending the social were on her hit list. But after hearing how important today was for Grace, she decided she had to get over herself and suck it up. She’d do whatever she had to to make the event a success. “You won’t. Once they taste your strawberry shortcake and strawberry tart, you’ll be booked through to next year.” And thinking of the theme for the social, her voice grew more enthusiastic. At least the Sugar Plum Cake Fairy wouldn’t be expected to make an appearance.
“I’m so glad you moved to Christmas. You’re good for my confidence. I hope you don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.” Grace’s smile faded when Skye inadvertently grimaced. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
“You know me, footloose and fancy-free,” Skye said, forcing a lighthearted tone to her voice. “Never know when the mood will strike me. But don’t worry, I’ll give you plenty of notice.”
New York had been Skye’s home base for the last ten years, but she spent so much time travelling to remote corners of the world with her environmental causes that she was rarely there. Over the last year, even before she’d lost her money, her bohemian lifestyle had started to lose its appeal. She’d been thinking of settling down and starting a foundation of her own. But her financial problems had effectively ended that idea.
“Oh, I thought you were happy here.” Grace wrinkled her nose. “Is it Madison? Did you guys have a fight when you told her you lost your trust fund? You seemed to be getting along okay.”
“No, we’re good. I, uh, I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” Skye stared out the passenger-side window at the aspens nestled against the rocky cliffs that encircled the private valley. As the landscape blurred into a verdant blob, she blinked back tears. She didn’t know why the idea of leaving the small town—Maddie and her girls, the friends she’d made—left her feeling so darn emotional. She cleared her throat. “I’ll probably camp out for a while, see how it goes.”
“You’re not living in a tent, Skye,” Grace said firmly, tapping her finger on the steering wheel. “Promise me you won’t do anything for now. I have an idea, but I have to talk it over with Jack first.”
“I don’t plan…” Skye began, then groaned as they drove through the open wrought-iron gates and up the long, paved circular drive. And it wasn’t because the last time she’d driven through those gates she had been with Ethan. No, it was because she recognized the man standing on the cobblestone walkway in front of the O’Connors’ stunning home talking to Liz O’Connor. Ethan’s mother looked youthfully pretty with a black headband holding back her toffee-colored, shoulder-length hair. She made even a white denim skirt and black-and-white T-shirt look coolly elegant.
“What’s wrong? Are you going to be sick?”
Skye sunk down in her seat. “The man in the black Stetson is Richard Stevens, Claudia’s father. You have to do me a big favor, Grace. No one can find out I’m broke. If anyone asks, tell them I’m just helping you out,” she said desperately. All she’d need was for her father to hear she’d lost her trust fund. He’d never let her live it down, and neither would Claudia.
“Of course. Madison is the only one who knows you’re on the payroll.” Grace made a face. “And Jack.”
“You don’t think he’d tell Gage or Ethan, do you?” Skye asked, bending down to dig her cell phone from her purse.
“I don’t think so, but I’ll call him just to make sure.”
“Thanks. I’d better call Maddie.” Skye already had her phone to her ear. When the call went to voice mail, she left a message. They were heading to Lily’s baseball game, so hopefully Maddie would get it before coming to the social.
Liz and Richard turned when Grace pulled the white van in front of the house. Catching sight of Skye, Ethan’s mother’s lips set in a disapproving line. Let the fun begin, Skye thought. She forced a smile for Richard, who offered her a surprised one in return. He opened her door. “Kendall Davis,” he said in a booming voice as he hauled her into his arms. Richard was a loud, gregarious man in his midsixties who looked like Robert Redford. “Claudia told me you were here. I was going to look you up before I left. You haven’t changed a bit. Still pretty as a picture. How long has it been?”
“It’s been a while.” Skye smiled. She’d always liked Claudia’s dad. “You look great, Richard. You’re doing well?”
“Can’t complain, darlin’. Now, tell me what you’re doing here. Last I heard from your father you’d been arrested for chaining yourself to a tree in Brazil.”
Her cheeks heated. “Um, that was about six years ago.”
“Oh, right, it was a forklift up in Montana.”
“No, that was—”
He snapped his fingers. “Gotcha. Canadian embassy in Washington to protest the tar sands.” Grinning, he hooked an arm around her neck. “This little gal’s a pistol, Lizzie. Never knew what she’d get up to next. When she was ten, she snuck out of the house one night and set the neighbor’s horses free.” He chuckled. “Surprised your father still has a hair left on his head. Have you—”
“Richard, we probably should let Ms. Davis get to work,” Liz interrupted him in an unamused voice. “The guests will be arriving shortly.”
He frowned, looking from Skye to Grace, who’d started to unload the van. “You’re working at a bakery?”
“Just lending my friend a hand.” She patted his arm. “It was great to see you, Richard.”
“You too, darlin’. We’ll talk later.”
“Grace, the boys are in the back setting up the tables. Get them to give you a hand. You can go through the house to the backyard,” Liz said. She looped her arm through Richard’s. “Come and see that horse I was telling you about.”
“You should let Skye have a look at him. She’s a regular horse whisperer.” He chuckled and winked at Skye. “On second thought, you better not. She’s liable to set him free.”
Ethan’s mother, whose lips were once again pressed in a disapproving line, gave a disdainful “Hmm.”
Grace, standing with two containers in her arms, stared after Liz and Richard. “Okay,” she said. “I thought you were exaggerating, but you’re not. Mrs. O’Connor is definitely not a fan of yours.”
“Yeah. And hopefully Richard cans the reminiscing or you’ll be on your own. If he tells her about my run-in with the NRA last year, she’ll have me tossed from the premises.”
Pulling a tray from the back of the van, Grace cast Skye a nervous glance. “I think there’s a man from the NRA on the guest list. You won’t—”
“Don’t worry, Grace. I won’t do anything to embarrass you or the bakery. I promise.” She grabbed two trays from the van and turned to head up the stairs.
Ethan stood on the porch in a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to bare his tanned forearms. A pair of navy dress pants showed off his narrow waist and long, muscular legs. “Glad to hear that, cupcake,” he said, taking the trays from her.
She sighed. “Can you please give the ‘cupcake’ thing a rest?”
His hazel eyes warmed and his lips tipped up at the corners. “You prefer Cake Fairy?”
“Maybe you didn’t notice, but I’m not wearing my costume. I’m not the Sugar Plum Cake Fairy today.” Thank the universe.
“Oh, I noticed,” he said as his eyes took a lazy head-to-toe tour of her body. “And you still look good enough to eat.”
Chapter Five
Ethan never lost his temper. His colleagues at the district attorney’s office used to call him Mr. Unflappable. But at this precise moment, Mr. Unflappable was having a difficult time keeping his cool. He didn’t know which woman to lay the blame on: his mother or Skye. Probably Skye.
Every time she walked by him in her fril
ly purple-and-white-striped apron, she’d snort or say something derogatory under her breath. As far as he could tell, she hadn’t been saying the same to his supporters or soliciting votes for his opponent. Yet. And of course Ethan knew this because he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Something his hawk-eyed mother didn’t miss and which had already earned him two sharp-toned lectures.
Even now, he watched as Skye approached a white-linen-draped table with a glass pitcher of strawberry punch. He tensed when he recognized Frank Riley, the local NRA representative sitting with five other members at the table.
His mother nudged him. “Ethan said the exact same thing the other day, isn’t that right, dear?” Liz said, addressing him through a tight smile.
She was annoying, but right. Ethan had to start paying attention to the conversation at hand. Mrs. Rich, a long-time Democrat with considerable influence, was talking about throwing her support behind him. “Yes, I—” He broke off when Skye bent down to pour the punch in Riley’s glass, and the older man patted her butt at the same time he loudly denounced the anti-gun lobbyists to his friends. Aw hell. Ethan recognized the look that came over her face. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said to Mrs. Rich and headed for the table.
“Skye,” he called out, trying to gain her attention. She glanced up at the same time as she tipped the pitcher, pouring pink liquid onto the man, a strawberry coming to rest in the lap of his gray pants. At Riley’s bellowed obscenity, Ethan heard his mother gasp from behind him and saw Grace’s frantic expression as she hurried over.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m such a klutz,” Skye said, looking anything but apologetic until she caught sight of Grace. Then she winced and reached for the strawberry, apparently thought twice about it, and grabbed some napkins off the table instead.
Riley glared at her, snatching the napkins from her hand as she prepared to pat him down. “I’ll be sending you the cleaning bill, young lady. And I suggest you start looking for another job.”
Ethan rested his hand on Riley’s shoulder. “It was an accident, Frank, and Ms. Davis apologized. I’ll take care of your—”
Claudia, wearing a nautical blue-and-white dress, swooped in to save the day. “Come with me, Mr. Riley. I’ll have you fixed up as good as new in no time.” She poured on the charm as she led the man toward the house, drawing a laugh from him. Given the look Riley shot in Skye’s direction, Ethan figured the joke had been at her expense.
Skye’s cheeks flushed as she mopped up the folding chair. Ethan went to offer his help, but the men at the table diverted his attention with a question about his stance on armed security guards in local schools. Skye lifted her head and opened her mouth. Thankfully, his mother and Grace arrived at the same time and cut off her response.
“I’m really sorry, Grace,” Skye said as she picked up the container. “I—”
His mother took the crystal pitcher from Skye. “I realize you’re understaffed, Grace, but I think it would be best for Ms. Davis to leave. I’ll take care of the punch.”
Once again, Ethan excused himself and herded the three women out of earshot. He took the pitcher from his mother and handed it back to Skye. “She’s not going anywhere, Mom,” he said, even though he thought it might be a good idea if she did. But seeing the vulnerable expression on her face, he couldn’t help but defend her. “Grace needs her, and it was—”
“—an accident,” Skye said, glancing at him from under her long lashes. “I spilled the punch because he startled me when he patted my bottom, Mrs. O’Connor. I could legitimately charge him with sexual harassment, you know. But I won’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s about a hundred degrees in the shade, and your guests are thirsty.”
Grace cast a nervous glance from his mother to Skye and retrieved the pitcher. “I’ll take care of the punch, Skye. You can serve the cupcakes, okay?”
Before Skye had a chance to respond, his mother said, “I have another pitcher. I’ll give you a hand, Grace. Ms. Davis, if there’s one more incident—”
“I’ll handle it, Mom,” Ethan said, placing a hand on Skye’s shoulder.
“I don’t need to be handled, Ethan.” She wriggled out from under his hand as Grace led his mother away. “It was his fault I spilled the punch.”
“Tell that to someone you haven’t poured champagne on. I saw your face, cupcake. You spilled the punch on him because of what he said, not what he did.”
“Only a sexist nincompoop would say something like that.” He struggled to keep a straight face at her word choice, and her caramel eyes narrowed at him. “Did you actually expect me to stand there and smile while some aging lothario groped my bottom?”
“No. I don’t like anyone groping you but me.” Her jaw dropped, and he continued, “If you’d given me a chance, I would have taken care of him, Skye.”
“You are such a…” She made a frustrated sound in her throat. “I don’t need you to protect me, Ethan. I’ve been looking after myself for a long time.”
At her raised voice, heads turned in their direction. Exactly the kind of attention Ethan wanted to avoid. Once again, he was reminded why he needed to keep his distance from Skylar Davis. “I realize that, but are you forgetting your promise to Grace?”
“You’re right,” she said, looking suitably chastened. “I don’t want her to lose business because of me.” She nibbled on her fingernail. “Maybe you could tell him I have a medical condition?”
And this was why he had a difficult time keeping his distance. She was cute as hell. “Any particular condition you had in mind, cupcake?”
She pressed her lips together. “Forget it. I’ll apologize and pay his dry cleaning bill.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Claudia smoothed things over. And I’ll take care of his dry cleaning bill.”
“I’m sure she did. No one does sucking up better than Claudia,” she said with a curl of her upper lip. Something caught her attention, and she frowned at him. “You invited Fred and Ted?”
“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?” he said, glancing over his shoulder to see the two older men, who looked like the actors from Grumpy Old Men, taking their seats at one of the tables. Then he realized why she’d ask. “If you would’ve let me get a word in edgewise at Gage and Madison’s wedding instead of ripping into me after misconstruing what I’d said, you wouldn’t have to ask.” His response came out clipped at the reminder of how, after the amazing night they’d shared, she’d turned his best friend’s wedding into a shit show over a simple misunderstanding and a difference of opinion and refused to speak to him.
“No? So if I offered to marry them, right here, right now, you wouldn’t object?”
“Okay, for the last time, Fred and Ted are not gay.”
“As if they’re going to come out to you, Mr. Poster Boy for the Republican Party.”
There was no reasoning with her, and he didn’t know why he bothered to try. Sure he did, but he was slowly coming to the realization that everyone was right. It was about time he got his head in the game and that meant keeping away from Skye. “I’m not getting into this with you now. And for Grace’s sake, if you can’t put your own agenda aside, then it’s best if you leave. I’m sure Claudia, my mother, and Nell won’t mind pitching in to help Grace.”
“Ethan.” His mother waved him over to Mrs. Rich’s table. He walked away, leaving Skye staring after him.
Ethan spent the next hour working the tables. He managed to keep his distance from Skye. Ignoring her? That was easier said than done. Every time she laughed—and that was just one more thing he liked about Skye; she laughed a lot—he’d find himself seeking her out. In his defense, she had an amazing laugh. He returned his attention to the CEO from Albright Energy, who’d been railing against the stranglehold that newly proposed legislation would put on his company.
Since he’d heard it before, Ethan easily picked up the thread of the conversation. “I agree with you. You’re heavily regulated by the state as it is, and the additional rules ar
e unnecessary. We need to empower local self-government and put an end to the one-size-fits-all government that Bennett endorses,” he said, referring to his opponent.
After another ten minutes of discussing a recently released report by the Energy Department that determined fracking didn’t contaminate drinking water, the three men assured Ethan he had their endorsement. Slapping him on the back in turn, they headed to a table. Claudia stopped to have a word with them before joining Ethan, his mother, and Richard. “That went well,” Claudia said with a pleased smile as she reached his side.
“Were you able to smooth things over with Mr. Riley?” his mother asked Claudia.
“Yes, Ethan has his full support, and he’s quite taken with your housekeeper. Rosa found him a pair of pants and got the stain out of his. She’s pressing them as we speak.”
“Well, that’s good to hear at least. I still can’t believe the nerve of that girl. I told Grace in no uncertain terms that if I host another event, I don’t want her here.”
“Mom, relax, it was an accident.”
Claudia’s father laughed. “I highly doubt it, son. That little gal came out of the womb with a protest sign clutched in her tiny fist. She stands up for what she believes in, and Lord help you if you get in her way. Her father had his hands full, let me tell you. She’s got gumption, that one. Might not agree with her politics, but always did admire her passion for the issues. And don’t let her fool you, she’s smart as a whip. Made the mistake of debating the merits of a vegetarian lifestyle with her when she was twelve. She won.”
“That’s not what you said when you had to bail her out of jail at sixteen for throwing red paint on Mrs. Harmon’s fur coat, Daddy,” Claudia said with a petulant look on her face. “For Ethan’s sake, let’s hope she keeps her leftist politics to herself for the rest of the day.”