Meant to Be Mine (A Porter Family Novel Book #2)

by Becky Wade

  The mayor stopped by for his daily chocolate glazed donut. Then came a group of four female co-workers.

  Most days, Ty found it hard to believe he worked in a donut shop. Thing was, he’d have done a lot worse to spend time with Celia. This job was easier than shooting fish in a barrel, and he liked talking to people. Plus, coming here gave him a reason to escape his empty house. He hated his empty house.

  At the sound of footsteps, he turned to see Celia walking toward him holding a yellow one-layer cake. Thanks to the hairnet she’d probably just removed, her curls were messy and made her look like she’d rolled out of bed after a long night in the sack. He caught a whiff of vanilla.

  As fierce as Celia was, Ty had learned to read her face. Right now he saw pride and vulnerability both, and the sight caused something within him to burn with tenderness. He cared for Celia way more than he’d planned to care, which was straight-up painful and pointless. He cleared this throat. “What kind of cake is this?”

  “Brown butter cake.”

  He reached for two paper plates and plastic forks. “We get the first two servings, right?”

  “Right.” She set down the cake and carefully sliced it.

  He never wanted her to discover that he was paying part of her salary. Just the thought made him uneasy, because he knew how much stock she put in her belief that she’d succeeded at Cream or Sugar without his help.

  “In celebration of your new land.” She handed him his plate.

  “Our new land.”

  “Your new land—”

  “That I’d like to share with you if you’ll let me.”

  “How about we eat?” They stood facing each other, taking their first bites at the same time.

  Warm cake melted like a river of sweet butter in Ty’s mouth, so good it almost blew his head off. He swallowed. “You’re extremely attractive to me in this moment.”

  “That’s the cake talking.”

  “You’re ruthless. You know exactly what you’re doing to me, but you don’t have any pity.”

  Even though she shook her head over his nonsense, he could see her delight.

  “You’re a genius, Celia. Like the Mozart of cake.”

  “No!”

  “You are. You’re incredible. Can I have your autograph?” He was trying to decide how to trap her against the bakery display case and make out with her when an elderly couple entered the shop. They approached the counter, moving slower than pond water.

  “I’m going to sweet-talk these two,” Ty whispered, “into buying this.”

  “Don’t oversell it. They might try it and hate it.”

  “Not a chance.”

  It only took him thirty seconds to convince the couple to buy Celia’s cake, and that was because he spent the first twenty-five seconds asking them about their day. In no time, he had them seated at a table with coffees and slices of cake.

  He found Celia hiding behind the cookie display. He took hold of her hand, his grip strong and secure. These were the first strangers to ever pay for her cooking, and he knew that she desperately wanted them to like it.

  The old folks finally managed to get cake into their mouths. While they chewed, which seemed to take an hour, nervousness crept over Ty, tightening his muscles. He’d ridden bulls for eight years, almost lost his life a dozen times, and now he was nervous.

  “Well?” Ty asked them. “What do you think? Was I right?”

  The husband turned to face them. “You were right. This cake is wonderful. Wonderful. Dear?”

  His wife nodded, patting her lips with her napkin. “Oh my, yes. This reminds me of a cake my mother made when I was a girl. I never thought to taste anything like it again.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He squeezed Celia’s hand to draw her attention. She was so close he could see the spiky ends of her eyelashes. “Looks like this is a good day for both of us. They love your cake.”

  “Wow,” she murmured. “They love my cake.”

  They loved my cake! Celia thought while cleaning Cream or Sugar’s kitchen. She kept replaying the moment when that adorable old couple had called it wonderful. They, and all the customers that had eaten it after them, had loved it. It seemed too good to be true. She’d crafted the recipe herself, poured every drop of knowledge and instinct she had into it.

  They loved my cake. The validation sang through her like a cool breeze while she locked up the shop. After all her years of undiverted concentration on Addie, she had something new to call her own. Baking was her thing, her great passion.

  They loved my cake, she marveled while driving toward the gingerbread house, filled with gratitude. Before Ty’s reentry into her life, she’d been a cafeteria administration lady. Now she was a house-owning, Prius-driving pastry chef.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Early the next afternoon, Celia’s cell phone rang right as she was sliding a batch of apricot muffins into the oven. Same as yesterday, Ty had insisted on watching the front so that she could bake. She bumped the oven door closed with her elbow, wedged her phone against her ear, and went to work wiping down the counter. “Hi, Uncle Danny. How are you?”

  “Not very well.”

  At the listless tone of his voice, she straightened. “What’s happened?”

  “Remember Betty?”

  “The one you met online?”

  “Right, right. The one who lives in Hugo, Oklahoma.”

  “I remember.”

  “Well, I drove up to see her. We’re not a love connection”—it sounded like he was cupping his hand over the phone—“but we were having a nice time anyway. We went to the movies last night and as we were leaving the theater I slipped on a step and fell.”

  “What? Are you all right?”

  “I fractured my pelvis.”

  Her heart thudded at the news. “Oh no.”

  “Can you believe it? I was just mountain biking in Moab! And now I’ve been brought low by a stairstep. A stairstep, C.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Surfers are birds that are meant to fly free, you know? We’re not meant to be grounded.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “I’m at Betty’s house. I couldn’t go back to the hotel after they released me from the hospital because I can’t walk. All I can do is lie in bed. Betty’s been a trooper, but this situation is so not cool.”

  “I’m leaving right now.” She folded her towel and stripped off her hairnet. “I’ll come and get you and bring you home.”

  “I’m not sure I’m up for the drive.”

  “It’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t know . . .”

  “Can you text me Betty’s address?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m on my way.” She peeled off her apron and grabbed her purse. Just as she reached the back door, she remembered that she couldn’t leave Cream or Sugar without notifying Ty and asking for his help. She hurried to the front and found him dropping a few quarters into the outstretched hand of Tawny Bettenfield.

  Tawny looked over at her. “Hi, Celia.”

  “Hi.”

  Tawny wore a pencil skirt, a sleeveless silk top, and a chunky pale blue necklace. Sleek dark hair cascaded down her back. Why, oh why, did Tawny’s place of employment have to be located on the square? The proximity made it far too easy for her to visit Ty.

  “What’s with the purse?” Ty regarded Celia with worry.

  “I’ll tell you in a minute.”

  Tawny smiled at Celia, then at Ty. By the looks of it, she’d purchased her usual chocolate chip cookie. Celia suspected that Tawny had never actually eaten a single cookie. The cookies were simply a cheap and dependable way to gain access to Ty.

  Tawny tipped a finger back and forth between herself and Ty. “We were just laughing about the time we tried to catch crawfish in fifth grade.”

  Celia nodded stiffly.

  Tawny detailed the crawfish story, then explained to Celia that many people in Holley held crawfish boils in March.

>   Celia urgently needed to hit the road so that she could rescue Uncle Danny, but she wasn’t about to leave Ty alone with this woman. Tawny never treated Celia with anything other than friendliness. Yet Celia knew, down low at gut level, that Tawny was not to be trusted and was most definitely not her friend. She waited through the story, fussing with her cuticles.

  “Well.” Tawny aimed a breezy look of camaraderie at Ty. “I’d better head back to work.” She lifted her white paper sack a few inches. “Can’t wait for my daily treat.”

  The moment the door shut behind Tawny, Celia addressed Ty. “Uncle Danny’s in Hugo, Oklahoma, and he just called to tell me that he’s fractured his pelvis.”

  His forehead furrowed. “Is he okay?”

  “As okay as he can be, I guess.”

  “Why is he in Hugo?”

  “To meet one of his Internet love interests.”

  Ty whistled under his breath.

  “I’m going to drive there and bring him home.”

  “I’ll take you.”

  “Thank you for offering, but I can’t leave unless you’re able to cover for me here, then pick Addie up from school and keep her until I get home. Can—I know it’s a lot to ask. But can you do that for me?”

  “Sure, but—”

  “I’ll check in with you once I’m on the road.” She started toward the back door, Ty limping behind her. “Oh, and when the timer goes off, will you take the muffins out of the oven?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t know if Donetta will want us to close the shop early today or if she’ll want to come back in and relieve you so you can get Addie from school on time.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll speak with Donetta, and we’ll take care of it.”

  She pushed through the back door and hurried down the steps.

  He kept pace, propping his hand on the roof of the Prius as she scooted into the driver’s seat. “Celia, if you’ll slow down, I’ll work everything out so that I can come with you. I want to come with you. Let me drive you there.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. It’s just two hours away. If you’ll take care of the shop and Addie for me, that’s more than enough. Thank you. I appreciate the help.”

  Reluctantly, he stepped back so she could close her door. She reversed from her parking spot. He’d raised a hand to shield his eyes. The motion had caused the hem of his T-shirt to ride up on one side, revealing a glimpse of lean abs. Oh boy. Even frowning, he was illegally sexy.

  She put the Prius in drive and pulled onto the road.

  A plump woman wearing a Hawaiian muumuu and a brown bowl haircut answered Celia’s knock.

  “Betty?”

  “Yes, and you must be Celia.”

  “I am.”

  “Come on in.” Betty, who looked to be the same general age as Danny, issued Celia into a musty foyer. “Your poor uncle took a fall.”

  “I heard.”

  “He’s right over here.” Betty led the way into a living room reminiscent of Hoarders. Stacks of old magazines lined every wall, some stacks reaching the ceiling, others leaning precariously. Two long-haired cats covered the dark green sofa, collectible knickknacks filled the side table, and a pile of sweaters had buried one of the two chairs. In the middle of it all sat a rollaway twin bed, which had been elevated at the head by more magazines. Uncle Danny lay on it, snoring softly, clothed in nothing more than a shark tooth necklace and a pair of plaid boxers.

  “Here he is,” Betty pointed out, in case Celia hadn’t noticed.

  Celia felt her cheeks heat as she took in an eyeful of the nut-brown skin of Danny’s chest, arms, and legs. Modesty had never been Uncle Danny’s strongest virtue.

  “Have a seat.” Betty spoke softly, in deference to the sleeping patient. She indicated the one open chair, and Celia sat. Betty took to the sofa alongside the cats, which put nearly naked Danny smack in between them.

  “Your uncle’s had a hard, hard time since the accident last night.”

  He didn’t appear to be having too hard a time at the moment.

  “He fell on a step and crack, he fractured his pelvis like a wishbone.”

  There was only one way to look at Betty—across Danny’s bare abdomen. “I’m terribly sorry that this happened.” Celia valiantly tried to ignore the abdomen. “Especially while he was here visiting you.”

  “Do you think he’s all right? He’s been sleeping a lot.”

  “I assume he’s fine.”

  “They’ve heavily dosed him with medications, so maybe that’s why. I just don’t know.” She pressed her lips together, her attention combing Danny’s form. “I’m worried. I don’t want him slipping into a coma or something.”

  “I’m pretty sure he’s fine.” Celia hadn’t anticipated arriving here and finding him asleep. What protocol applied when retrieving an injured uncle from an Internet date gone wrong? Did you immediately wake the uncle and usher him to your car? Or did regular rules for napping apply? “Maybe I should wake him? So that the two of us can be on our way.”

  “You were hoping to leave today?” Betty shook her head. “I don’t think he’ll be able to travel so soon.”

  “Did the doctors give you instructions when they released him?”

  Betty lifted a cat and pulled a few papers from underneath the animal. She handed the stapled sheets across Danny’s legs to Celia. While Betty relayed in doomsday tones what the doctors had told her, Celia scanned the information. Danny needed rest and immobility so that the pelvis could knit back together. “Did the doctors say anything about surgery?”

  “They said it’s not necessary. The pelvis will heal itself in time. He’s pretty bad off right at the moment, though. Oh dear.” Betty’s spine straightened with a joint pop. “Did he stop breathing?”

  Alarm spiking, Celia jerked her gaze to Danny. He only gurgled, shifted his face to another angle, and resumed snoring. Both women watched him, Betty with a fretful expression, Celia balancing the hospital papers on her knees. She was afraid to relax any deeper into the chair. It smelled like a mixture of mothball and yogurt.

  Betty started hiccuping. “Sorry. I have a recurring case.”

  “No problem.”

  They smiled with strained pleasantry at each other.

  Danny released a honking, shuddering snore.

  “Perhaps . . . perhaps we could cover him with a blanket?” Celia suggested.

  “Oh, believe me,” Betty answered with feeling. “I tried.”

  “Well.” Celia looked at her watch. “I’d best wake him up so that we can get on the road.” Gently she shook his shoulder. “Uncle Danny? Uncle Danny?”

  It took some doing, but he came around.

  “Hey,” he wheezed. He’d been soaking in so much Texas sun that the whites of his eyes appeared almost neon against his tanned skin. “You’re here.”

  “I’m here.”

  His hand fumbled for hers, and she grabbed it, squeezing warmly. She hadn’t forgotten all the times he’d been there for her when no one else had been.

  “I don’t think I’m going to be able to go on a ride with Addie today.”

  She smiled. “No. The only thing you’re going to be doing today is driving back to Holley with me.”

  He winced. “I don’t know about that, C. Don’t think I can handle the drive today. My pelvis, like, seriously hurts. Bad.”

  Celia made sympathetic noises. Inwardly, though, his words concerned her. She could not leave him here, yet the two of them couldn’t stay here overnight. If she’d had a dust allergy, she’d be dead already. More important, she had a daughter back in Holley. She’d never left Addie for a whole night with anyone. Not once.

  Danny rolled his head toward Betty. “Hey there, Betty.”

  “Hello, Danny.”

  “Is it time for another dose of painkillers?”

  Betty and Celia consulted, checked his prescription, and determined he was due for more pills.

  “Just a sip,” Celia said as she held a gla
ss of water to his mouth so he could drink down the meds. God help them all if he tanked up on water and needed to use the restroom.

  Betty excused herself and went to click computer keys in a nearby room. Celia spent the next twenty minutes doing her best to cajole Danny into driving home. He was woozy and kind, but he was also terrified of moving . . . anywhere. He insisted that he couldn’t make the trip. After a time, his eyes grew heavy, and he resumed the snoring, gurgling, and leg twitching thing.

  Celia perched on the edge of her chair, watching one TV show after another while Danny slept, wondering how in the world she was going to get Danny home.

  Gradually, the sky darkened. Shadows stretched across the living room, elongating with Celia’s worries. She turned on a lamp. The cats prowled the house, eying Celia with suspicion.

  In all the years she’d known him, Celia had never had to force Uncle Danny to do anything. Was she really going to have to override his pain and his wishes in order to somehow carry him? wheel him? drag him? to her Prius—

  A quiet rapping came from the window behind her.

  Startled, Celia turned toward the sound.

  On the other side of the glass, silhouetted by bands of orange and pink sunset, stood Ty. The slow smile he gave her was just about the most beautiful thing Celia had ever seen.

  He wore the same white Dallas Mavericks T-shirt and jeans he’d had on earlier, but he might as well have been wearing a super hero’s red cape.

  Celia hurried to the door. “Addie?”

  “Is doing great. My mom and dad are with her at your house.”

  “I thought I told you not to come.”

  “With you I’ve learned it’s best to act first and ask permission second.”

  “In this case I’ll forgive you, because I’m really, really glad to see you.”

  “Come ’ere.” He took her into his arms and hugged her tightly. She placed her cheek against his chest and hugged him back. She was in terrible trouble, because his hug felt to her like what she imagined a real husband’s hug would feel like. Reassuring, warm, endlessly strong. More achingly tempting to Celia than even The Kiss had been.