by Kyle Autumn
“No?” I ask, leaning a shoulder against the wall next to me. “Why’s that?”
She shrugs and picks at one of her nails. “There are enough in the world, I guess.”
I squint at her. “Is that your official answer? Or the one in your heart?”
Again, she lifts her shoulders and drops them. “Does it matter?”
“Of course it does,” I tell her. “It’s your truth, and your truth always matters.” If I learned anything from Danny, it was that. And I’ll pass it on to this Dani now.
She swallows hard and shuffles her feet. Then she takes a deep breath and releases it. “I just don’t think I’d be a good mom.”
I put a hand on her arm, thinking she needs a little one-on-one contact. “You’ve got plenty of time to figure that out. No need to worry about it now, right?”
After biting the inside of her cheek, she points to the register. “Want to show me how to work this thing? I’m sure I can get the hang of it.”
Okay. I take the hint. She doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. And that’s okay with me. It was starting to get a little too personal anyway. I don’t know what’s appropriate for employees, but that discussion was probably too much.
So I open the cash register and demonstrate how to work it. When the oven timer goes off, we take the cakes out, let them cool, and then frost them as requested by the customer—with butterflies and balloons. She asks to taste the frosting, and I let her.
Anything to keep from asking her the questions on the tip of my tongue.
Like Why would your engaged brother look at me like I was his world?
∞∞∞
Jeremy
When the front door shuts, I jolt awake on the couch. I didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep, but getting up so fucking early is obviously going to take some getting used to.
Dani prances over to me as I pull myself upright to sit instead of lie down. She thrusts her hand toward me, some kind of fabric clutched between her fingers. “She gave me my own apron and everything! I get to be, like, her apprentice or something. It’s so freaking cool! Where are Mom and Dad?”
She’s talking about Amelia, her new boss right now. Not Amelia, my hot-as-fuck neighbor. No part of me wants to distinguish between the two, but for Dani’s sake, I probably should.
That does not win out today. Sleep—or the lack thereof—has created enough fuzz in my brain that I can’t stop the question from leaving my mouth.
“Was she sad today?”
Dani’s hand, the one with the apron, falls to her side. Then she pops her free hand onto her hip. “So help me god, did you already sleep with her, Jer? She’s my boss! Don’t mess this up fo—”
“Whoa! Slow down.” I throw my hands out in front of me in a surrender gesture. Then I use them to push myself off the couch and wipe the sleep from my eyes. “I only saw her for a few seconds yesterday before she ran away from me like I have the plague.”
“Good!” She follows me into the kitchen. “I hope she continues to run away from you. I need this job or else I have to go back home.” When she reaches the fridge, which I’ve opened, she pushes it shut. “And I don’t want to go back home. At all.”
“Okay!” I raise my hands a second time before slowly reaching for the handle and opening the fridge again. “Mom and Dad will be back later. Can I get you something to eat as a peace offering for something I haven’t even done?”
She raises a single eyebrow and points a finger at me. “I hear the unspoken yet in there. I’m not dumb.”
With my gaze inside the fridge, I say, “I didn’t say you were. But I don’t know why”—I reach inside for the leftovers from dinner with our parents last night—“you think I would do that to you.”
When I shut the door, Dani’s eyes are so wide that I’m afraid her face my split. I scoot past her and grab a pot out of the cabinet to reheat this curry and rice for both of us. But Dani seems to have other plans—plans that include fighting with me over how much of a shithead I am.
“Are you freaking serious right now? Do you not remember five years ago?” she spits at me.
As I turn the stove on, I take a deep breath. Of course I remember five years ago. I was there. And, even though it was a mistake, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it. I regret the hurt I caused everyone, but a man never regrets damn good sex. For my sister’s sake, I pretend that I do though.
“I remember,” I tell her as I stir the curry and rice in the pot. “And I’ve apologized a million times. You have to let me live that down, Dani.”
“Oh, just like everyone else has let me?” She huffs over to the kitchen table and plops down in a chair. “I’ve been the laughingstock of the school since fifth grade. So, no, I don’t have to let you, Jeremy. I don’t.”
I hear Dr. Setts in my head. Deep breath in through your nose, Jeremy. Then release it slowly from your mouth. There you go. Good job. Now, understand where her emotions are coming from…
I understand. I do. It’s the part where it affects me too and makes me angry that I need more work on. But, if I’m ever going to grow up and be the adult I’m expected to be, I guess I need to figure that part out. No better time than now, as they say.
Instead of lashing out or getting mad at her for her feelings, I keep stirring our dinner. Stirring, stirring, stirring. And figuring out how to change the subject without my sister feeling like I’m dismissing her. But I honestly can’t talk about this shit anymore. I want to move on. For good.
“What did you learn today?” I ask her, hoping she’ll move on with me.
To my surprise, she does. Probably because she’s really excited about this part of her life, and I love to see Dani happy.
“She showed me how to make the coffee, work the register, and answer the phone to take down orders.” She picks at her nails, fighting a smile back—though she’s unsuccessful. “And then she let me help frost a cake for a customer. It was so cool!”
Her enthusiasm brings a smile to my face, and once our dinner is warmed through, I plate it and bring it to her. I hope she stays this happy through dinner so we don’t have to talk about the past anymore. The future seems like a much better topic. Even if she’s skeptical about it.
While we eat, she tells me more about her day with Amelia. Her new boss. My sexy neighbor. As she talks about being with her, I imagine what it’d be like to be with her too. To caress her bare skin. To brush her hair off her neck. To press my lips against her stomach.
Apparently, a part of me can’t help it. I’m a warm-blooded man, after all. But imagining things isn’t a crime. However, I don’t have to act on my desires, Dr. Setts would tell me. So I stay engaged in the conversation with my sister, happy that she’s happy here.
When we’re done with dinner, she takes our bowls to the sink and washes the dishes. With a little free time, I decide to head out front and sit on the patio to enjoy the sunset. But, when I look to my right, I find my sexy neighbor attempting to mow her lawn.
Attempting because the lawn mower won’t start no matter how many times she pulls on it.
It wouldn’t be very neighborly of me to sit here and watch her do it, so I jog over to her yard and ask her if she needs some help.
She jumps like I’ve startled her, her hand flying to her chest as she spins to face me. “Oh god.” She tries to laugh it off, but her chest rises and falls in rapid succession.
“Sorry,” I tell her. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just saw you trying to start this thing to no avail, so I thought I’d offer my help.”
“Oh, thanks, but I can do it.” Her long, dark hair floats around her head as wind breezes through it. So she reaches up to secure all of it with her hands and guides it over her shoulder.
Much in the way I was imagining I’ll do when I finally get her alone. Which makes my NatEx uniform pants a little tighter than they were before.
So I turn around and tell her, “I’ll just get changed and come back to help, okay?”
“N
o, really, I’m fine,” she says to my retreating back.
Two minutes later, though, she still hasn’t gotten the thing started when I return, my errant hard-on tamed the best I can do.
“It’s not a big deal,” I say, holding my hand out. “Let me try?”
Reluctantly, she drops her hands to her sides and steps away. “Be my guest.”
I get closer to the lawn mower and reach down for the handle of the pull cord. But, on the second try, the cord snaps and the end spins right back into the hole. And I topple backward, right into her.
Somehow, I manage to spin so I’m facing her and wrap my arms around her so she doesn’t fall down. In a matter of seconds, we’re steady, but I can’t let her go. And I realize that the pressure on my back is from her arms as she squeezes me too.
“I guess it was my turn to run into you,” I tell her, hoping to lighten the moment.
It works and she laughs. Though it’s a quick sound, it’s light and airy, and I imagine it’s a sound she doesn’t make a lot. That sadness in her eyes—I recognize it because I have it too. I’m sure it’s not for the same reason, but despair recognizes its counterpart when it sees it. And it does in her eyes.
“I guess so,” she confirms, a small smile on her lips.
“I don’t think we’ve properly met,” I say. “I’m Jeremy. Your new neighbor.”
“Jeremy,” she repeats like she’s trying it out on her tongue. The sound wiggles its way into my heart before she speaks again. “I’m Meli. Did you get the muffins?”
I nod, the memory of how those tasted fresh on my tongue. And I wonder how close to chocolate she’d taste. “I thought your name was Amelia.”
Her brow furrows. “It is.”
“You said Meli,” I remind her.
Her lips part as she sucks in a breath, but she quickly schools the expression back to neutral. “Whichever is fine.”
The breeze picks up again and the scent of cupcakes and flowers tickles my nose. I fight with everything I have not to inhale and tease myself with what I can’t have. A night with her, naked and spread out for me. A morning with her, eating strawberries in bed. Stolen moments with her, my mouth on her breast.
God, I want to kiss her. So badly. Her lips are perfect for mine, and with them this close, it’s all I can do not to lean down and press mine against them. Because, with me, one thing leads to another, and I don’t need this thing leading to that right now. Especially not with her. So it’s my turn to break away from this and shut it down. Before she feels exactly how much I want to do those things with her.
I slip my arms from around her waist and hold the broken lawn mower piece up. “I’ll, uh, fix this for you.” To clear my throat, I cough into my free fist. “Sorry about that. You can use mine for now if you want.”
“I can fix it.” She rises onto her toes and snatches the piece from my hand. “It’s okay.”
I shake my head. “I broke it though. I can’t let you do that.”
She shakes hers back at me. “And it’s my lawn mower, so you shouldn’t have to worry about it.”
I was supposed to be enjoying the sunset, so I don’t want to argue. Instead, I let it go, pretend like she’s won, and start backing away. “Whatever you say. You’re the boss.”
A half smirk tilts one corner of her lips. Then her eyes light up as she says, “Hmm. I guess I am.”
Before I can respond, she breezes past me and palms the lawn mower’s handle to take it back to her garage. All I can manage to do is watch her behind as she walks away from me. Her garage door begins to shut sooner than I can shake myself out of the stupor she’s left me in. Once it’s all the way down and I realize she’s not coming back out, I find my way back to the porch.
Enjoying the sunset, though, doesn’t happen. Instead, I remind myself of all the reasons why cupcakes and flowers cannot, under any circumstances, become my new favorite scent.
Chapter 4
Amelia
I’m pulling Mrs. Robins’s red velvet cake out of the oven when Danielle pops her head through the door to the front of the bakery.
“My ride is here,” she says, jutting her head toward the front. “I’ll get a ride with you tomorrow?”
“Bright and early,” I respond while taking my oven mitts off. “Thanks for your help today. You did a great job.”
“Thanks for the chance!” She flounces out the door, waving on her way.
The cake has to cool, so I follow her out. No, it’s not because I hope to catch another glimpse of her brother. Who now wants to call me Meli like he’s family. Like he’s…Danny.
I huff a breath out, continuing to lie to myself as Danielle sets the bell over the front door off when she leaves. It’s not the same car as yesterday, so my heart sinks. He likely isn’t out there. I remind myself that I live next door to him, so it’s not like I can’t see him any time I want. And then I remind myself that I should never want to see him.
Because the woman in the car Danielle’s entering is probably his fiancée.
The woman so perfect for him that Danielle thinks it’s disgusting. Which is compliment from a teenage girl. And I can see part of why she thinks so. This woman is downright stunning. Sleek, straight hair pulled back into a tight, neat ponytail at the nape of her neck. A professional business jacket draped over her shoulders. A small, slender nose above her perfect mouth.
Perfect, perfect, perfect. It’s no wonder he backed away from me so quickly the other day. He has everything he could possibly want at home.
Well, good for him. It’s not like I need to start something up right now anyway. Not with business taking off. Not with my need to hire someone to replace Gerald.
Oh, speaking of…
As I start mixing the vegan cream cheese frosting together, I set my phone between my shoulder and my ear and wait for my sister to pick up. When she does, I dive right into the heart of the matter.
“Do we have any leads on the job?” I toss some more powdered sugar into the bowl and mix.
“Well, hello to you too, sis.”
“Sorry. Hi,” I say before putting the frosting bowl under the mixer. Then I turn it on and walk away so I can hear my sister. “Do we have anyone to interview? Is anyone interested in Gerald’s job?”
“We do. One candidate, and I set up an interview for Thursday at four.”
“Here at the bakery?” I ask her, checking on the frosting.
“Of course.” Then she must cover the phone, because her voice is muffled as she yells something that sounds like, “Aria Haven Farrell. Get down from there!” When she’s back, she says, “Your niece is a terror. Want her before I sell her on the black market?”
“She’s adorable, Cass. Enjoy her while she’s young.” I switch the phone to my other ear. “Before you know it, she’ll be terrorizing boys and you’ll yearn for these days.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you at four on Thursday.”
“Thanks!” I turn the mixer off and then remember the other reason why I called. “Oh, hey. You still there?”
“I am, though I wish I were on a beach with a piña colada in my hand.”
I laugh into the phone. “Well, I have good news.”
“You’re taking me on vacation?”
I laugh again, bracing my hand on the counter. “No, not quite. I hired someone to help around the bakery.”
“Oh my god, you did? You actually did it?”
“Don’t sound so shocked.” I push off the counter and put the frosting in the fridge to firm up. “I got new neighbors and the daughter needed a job for the summer. So it’s not permanent, but it helps for now.”
“Has she started?”
“She has.” Leaning against the fridge, I put my thumbnail in my mouth. “Gerald will need to help me figure out what paperwork to have her fill out, but that’s fine.”
After several seconds, Cass says, “And?” She draws the word out.
“And,” I tell her, “it’s fine. She’s great. Fits right in. E
ager to learn.”
My sister waits several more seconds before saying, “Why does that not seem like the whole story?”
I sigh long and loud. “Because it’s not. But it’s not about her. She’s a lot of help here. I’m glad that worked out and I don’t have to try to find someone.”
“Okay,” she says, “so what’s the rest of the story? Does she smell bad? Is she stealing from the till?”
“I wish it were one of those,” I tell her, pacing the kitchen now. “Those could be fixed much more easily.”
“Hey! I said get down from there!” my sister exclaims, her voice farther away than before. Then she snaps her fingers. To me, she says, “Will you just tell me already?”
“Should I call you b—”
“Nope. Now. Out with it,” she insists.
I pause my pacing in front of the fridge and sigh again, twirling a finger through my ponytail. “Well, one of my new neighbors is her older brother.”
“And?” she asks, drawing it out again.
I roll my eyes and then stare at the ceiling. “You’re going to make me spell it out for you?”
“Of course I am. How long has it been since I’ve heard you talk about someone like this?”
“That’s the problem though,” I tell her. “It’s been that long, but he’s not someone I should get involved with, Cass. Not at all.”
“Why? Is he married or something? Is another one of your new neighbors his wife?”
Hesitantly, I answer her with, “Well, no…”
“Oh!” she gasps. Quietly, she asks, “Does he have a husband?”
“No!” I laugh back. But then I sober up when reality reminds me of the real situation. “He’s”—deep breath—“engaged.”
“So…” She stretches the word out for entirely too long. “Not married, then?”
“Cass!” I shake my head, smiling at my sister’s ridiculousness. “That’s not okay.”
“Hey! All I’m saying is that it’s not official or anything. And it’d be a whole lot different if it were.”