by Jennie Marts
He glanced around the truck. It was old, but the interior had been stripped, painted and outfitted with a new portable sink and a tiny work area. Hip-high counters were affixed to either side of the truck and cupboards and shelves filled in the rest of the area. “It’s great. It seems like a pretty cool set-up.”
“It is. It used to be an old milk delivery truck. I think the dairy closed down, and my brother, Justin found it at an auction. He helped me to strip it down and fix it up. It was a mess when we first got it, but Justin’s pretty good at stuff like this. He planned out where to put the shelves and put in the sink for maximum work efficiency.”
“He did a good job.”
“Yeah, he’s actually a pretty smart guy. He just does dumb things.”
“I can relate.”
Gabby chuckled as she pushed out the window and propped it open with a cropped off baseball bat. “This is my normal Sunday spot. I know the guy that owns this lot, and he lets me use it on Sundays since he’s closed. There are two big churches on either corner, and I get a lot of business from them. Folks are usually hungry as they leave church, and they’ll pick up something to eat for dessert on their way home.”
“Smart.”
He liked the truck. Liked that she used all the space efficiently. He even liked that she used an old baseball bat to prop open the window. She seemed frugal without being cheap or cutting corners. The ingredients she used in the cupcakes were high quality, but she was careful with her measurements and didn’t waste much.
It was inspiring to watch her work so hard for what she wanted. It would have been easier just to offer to give her the money she needed than spend his whole morning helping her. But he knew she wouldn’t take it. Knew her pride wouldn’t let her.
He’d forgotten how hard it was to scrimp and save for everything you need. Playing hockey had been good for him and paid him a ridiculous sum. He worked hard and immersed himself in the game, trying to be the best player he could and to help his team. But he was ashamed at how much money he wasted. Pissed away on drinks and food and things that didn’t matter.
When had he turned into this guy? This wasn’t how he grew up. His parents were solid middle class and raised their kids to respect them and to value money and hard work. Growing up, life had been simple. And nice.
Like this. Like spending a morning baking and creating something and laughing in the kitchen with a gorgeous woman. It was easy. And nice.
She was nice.
And that was exactly why he couldn’t see her anymore.
Couldn’t let himself get carried away by the scent of her perfume mixed with the aroma of vanilla. By the brush of her hand against his as they baked together. By the barest glimpse of the crest of her breast as she leaned over the mixing bowl. By the soft touch of her lips.
She was too sweet. Too real. He was used to fake women—false eyelashes, fake boobs, and fake personalities. Women who were only interested in him for his looks and his money. Women who cared about what being seen with him could do for them.
Not women who actually cared about him. Who asked him questions about his life, about how he felt about things, and then actually cared about his answers.
Not like Gabby did. That’s why he needed to stop this thing now. Nip it in the bud. Get out before she really started to care about him. Because once he let her in, let her get close, he’d inevitably do something stupid and drive her away. Or worse, break her heart.
And he didn’t want to ever hurt Gabby. He wouldn’t.
That’s why it would be easier to walk away now. Leave before she actually started to care about him. Before she started to depend on him.
He couldn’t let that happen. Because he knew she couldn’t depend on him. Maybe—for a little while. But he’d eventually let her down. He always did.
No, it was easier to let her go. He’d help her today. Just to pay her back for helping him last night. But that was it. Then he’d walk away. It was best. For both of them.
So why did it feel so bad? Like by walking away, he might miss out on something really great.
“Hey, are you gonna sit there daydreaming, or are you gonna help me?” Gabby pulled the filled plastic bins of cupcakes onto the counter.
He stood up. Well, tried to stand up. The delivery truck wasn’t quite tall enough for his six feet and three inches so he ducked his head to avoid hitting the roof. “What can I do?”
She pointed at the placement of everything in the truck. “We’ll keep the cupcakes on the counter. The boxes are in this cupboard. We sell them in boxes of either four, six, or by the dozen and customers can pick different flavors. I usually only carry a few flavors on the truck, and I will sell them individually. But they save money if they buy the multi-packs, so we try to suggest those.”
“Got it.”
“It’s pretty simple. The customer says what kind of cupcake they want, they pay, we box them up, and they go on their way.” She held up her phone and inserted a small white square into the headphone jack. “Have you ever used a card reader?”
“I’ve used one as a customer.”
“They’re pretty easy. And I do a lot of card purchases. Nobody carries cash anymore, and they buy more if they can pay with their card. I’ll show you.”
He leaned over her as she showed him how to work the card reader. The smell of her hair was distracting, and he only heard about half of what she said. But he got the general idea.
She passed him the tent easel with the day’s flavors on it. “Here, you can set up the sign.”
Taking the easel, he stepped out of the truck. The cold air felt good and worked to cool him down. He needed to stop thinking about her hair, about the way it felt as it flowed through his hands, and focus on getting her some business.
Setting up the sign, he turned to see a teenage boy standing on the sidewalk, squinting at him.
“You’re Owen Bannister. From the Colorado Summit.” the boy said, not as a question, but as more of a statement.
Owen was used to this—people randomly pointing out to him who he was. He smiled at the teen. “Yep.”
“Can I get your autograph?”
“Sure.” A sudden thought occurred to him. “I’m only signing cupcake boxes today. So you gotta buy a cupcake, then I’ll sign the box for you.”
The boy turned, and Owen was afraid he’d lost his first customer. Instead the teenager yelled at a woman coming out of the church to his left. “Mom, can we get some cupcakes to take home. If we buy some, Owen Bannister from the Colorado Summit will sign the box for me.”
Owen waited for her to approach then offered the woman his most charming smile. “You can’t possibly be this kid’s mom, you look more like his sister.”
She laughed, almost giggled. “Aren’t you sweet?”
They both knew she looked plenty old enough to be the teenager’s mom, but the small compliment was easy enough on his part, and he liked that it made her smile. “Not as sweet as these cupcakes. Can we get you a dozen?”
“Sure.” She didn’t even ask how much they were, just handed over her card.
“Which flavors do you want?”
“Surprise me.”
He winked and offered her his most charming grin before he turned to Gabby. “We need a dozen assorted cupcakes for the lady and her son.”
Gabby raised an eyebrow, but he knew she was happy to have the sale. She packaged the cupcakes, and he signed his autograph on the top of the cupcake box.
A few other parishioners had gathered around the truck, and the boy held up the box of cupcakes. “Get a dozen cupcakes, and Owen Bannister will autograph the box for you.”
He should hire this kid. He grinned at Gabby and jerked a thumb at the boy.
“I know,” she mouthed, then whispered, “Best advertising ever.”
While Gabby was helping the next customer, Owen called the boy over and slyly passed him a twenty dollar bill. He leaned down and lowered his voice. “Hey kid, I’ll give you this twenty
if you go back in the church and tell everyone that there’s some amazing cupcakes for sale out here and to come out and buy some.”
The kid palmed the twenty and grinned up at him. “Okay. Can I tell them you’re out here too and will autograph their box?”
“Sure.”
The kid told his mom he’d be back in a few minutes and disappeared back into the church.
He must have told the whole congregation because a crowd of people lined up outside the truck. They were selling cupcakes as fast as they could box them.
And the crowd didn’t leave. They stood around, talking and laughing as if they’d started an impromptu block party. Some people were eating the cupcakes right out of the boxes and raving about them to people walking by on the street.
As was typical for Colorado, the sun was shining and even though it was winter, it was warm enough to stand outside and enjoy the fresh air.
It was a busy neighborhood and several people stopped as they walked by or crossed the street to see what all the people were gathered around for. The teenager took his job seriously, and had recruited a couple of his friends to drum up more business. It was the best twenty bucks Owen had spent in a long time.
Owen loved to watch Gabby as she smiled and teased with the customers. It was obvious that she knew some of them from the neighborhood, but her smile was as warm as the Colorado sunshine, and they all seemed to respond to her caring and sweet personality.
If he had to admit it, there were probably a few people who were there just for him. Fans of the hockey team who bought cupcakes because they wanted his autograph or to talk to him. He must have signed thirty boxes. But he was having fun, playing around with the fans and enjoying watching Gabby rake in the sales.
After an hour, she held up her hands and a single cupcake. “We’ve almost sold out,” she yelled to the crowd. “We’re down to one last cupcake. I’m wondering how much one of you would pay to split this last cupcake with the famous Owen Bannister. It’s chocolate with chocolate frosting—and it’s delicious.”
“Which one? The cupcake or Owen?” the teenager’s mom yelled out. She and a few of her friends had stuck around to join in the fun.
Gabby laughed. “Both.”
“I’ll give you twenty for it,” the mom said as her friends teased her.
“I’ll give you thirty to see Bannister smash that cupcake into the goal,” an exuberant fan yelled. The crowd was eating it up, joining in the impromptu auction.
Another guy joined in. “I’m a Detroit fan. I’d rather see you smash it into his face. I’d pay forty for that.”
A guy in an expensive suit held up a fifty dollar bill. “I can’t let a Detroit fan win. I love the Summit. I’ll pay fifty to have you smash it into his face then let me take a picture.”
“Sold,” Gabby yelled and waved Owen into the truck. She was laughing and having a great time. “Get up here, buddy. Haven’t you always wanted to have your cake and eat it, too?”
Owen laughed and took the fifty from the guy in the suit. “I thought you said you were a fan.”
The crowd roared with laughter and fans patted Owen on the back as he climbed into the truck. He grinned at Gabby. “How did this happen? I was helping. Wasn’t I helping?”
She chuckled, a sadistic gleam in her eye as she grabbed the bill from his hand. “You did help. You just helped me make fifty dollars.”
“I think this will officially make us even for you helping me at the hotel.” He tipped his head down and grinned. “Go easy on me, Angel. I think I still have frosting in my ear from last night.”
She laughed and peeled back the wrapper. Yelling out to the crowd, she called, “Are you ready? Count it down with me! Three. Two. One!” She smashed the cupcake against his cheek, the frosting sticking to his face as the cake crumbled off and fell.
Owen grinned and turned to the crowd amidst cheers and applause. He swiped a finger through the frosting smeared on his cheek and sucked it into his mouth. “Delicious. Chocolate is my favorite flavor. But I think I should share all this fun.”
Gabby was leaned over the counter, holding her stomach as she cracked up. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her up, rubbing his cheek against hers and spreading the frosting across her face. She shrieked with laughter as he nuzzled into her neck, scattering the gooey cake across her chin.
Caught up in the moment, he gave her a quick kiss, smashing the frosting into her lips, then let her go and turned to crowd. Their applause thundered—not as much as the Denver stadium—but enough.
He pointed at Gabby. “Gabby Davis, ladies and gentleman. Cupcake-maker extraordinaire. Visit her shop. It’s the Simply Sweet Bakery down on Adams. That’s our show for the day.” He waved, and the crowd responded with laughter and murmured thank yous as they slowly dispersed, Gabby’s white cupcake boxes in their hands.
He grinned at her. “Not a bad day, huh?”
She giggled and wiped a chunk of frosting from his chin. “I can’t believe it. I sold every one. And people were having such a great time. And leaving tips. It was awesome. Thank you.”
“Yeah, it was awesome. I had a lot of fun.”
“The crowd loved you.”
“They loved your cupcakes.”
She grinned at him, her chin tipped up. It would be so easy to kiss her. To take that delicious mouth. To fill his hands with her luscious curves. Everything in him ached to pull her to him and kiss her until she couldn’t stand up.
But he still had a smidgen of good sense in him and knew that would only be leading her on—giving her the idea that there was something between them. Or that there could be something between them.
And he knew there couldn’t be. It had been fun—really fun. In fact, he couldn’t think of a time he’d had so much fun or laughed as much, or as easily, as he had with her today. But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t think about that. Time to cut this thing off and move on.
He checked his watch. “We’d better get things packed up if you’re going to have time to get those other cupcakes delivered to that party tonight.”
His voice must have come across as a little too serious. Her face fell, a look of confusion in her eyes for just a moment, then she pasted back on her smile. “Yeah. Of course.”
They cleaned up the truck and headed back to the bakery. They didn’t speak much on the trip back, and Owen could feel the tension in the air. He knew he’d hurt her feelings, been a little too curt in his response to her, and he felt like shit about it. But it couldn’t be helped. Better he feel like shit than her.
Pulling up to the bakery, Owen hopped out and carried the empty tubs inside. “I should probably head out.”
“Yeah. I’ve already taken up too much of your time today. Sorry about that.” She’d followed him in and dumped the rest of the supplies on the counter next to him.
He leaned a hip against the counter. “I don’t need you to be sorry. I had fun. I just don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”
She lifted an eyebrow as she looked up at him. “And what kind of impression would that be?” The sarcasm dripped from her voice.
“Look, I’m not the kind of guy you need hanging around you.”
“Oh, the old ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ routine. I pegged you for being a little more original.”
Damn. He had to give her props for the tough act.
He rubbed a hand across his scruff of whiskers and shook his head. “It’s not like that. I just don’t have the best of reputations.” And he sure as hell didn’t want to ruin hers. And he would.
She shrugged, trying for nonchalance, but he could see the hurt in her eyes. “I don’t remember asking you to hang around at all. You volunteered to help today. I appreciate it. But I know you’re a busy guy, and I don’t want to keep you.”
Ouch. Damned if she didn’t give as good as she got. He’d been dismissed. “Thanks again for helping me last night. I really do appreciate it.” He crossed to the door, but turned before he let hims
elf out. “It’s been fun. See ya, Angel.”
Chapter Five
Gabby pulled into her client’s driveway and turned off the car. Getting out, she slammed the door behind her.
Who did that guy think he was? Owen Bannister could take his “See ya, Angel” and stick it. And there weren’t a lot of angels running around the place she imagined he could go to.
She grabbed the boxes of cupcakes and headed for the door. She hadn’t asked him to help her. Hadn’t needed or even wanted his help.
Okay. Maybe that was a lie. She had needed help. From someone. Anyone.
And if she were being honest, she’d wanted it from him. If she were really being honest, she’d wanted a lot of things from him. Including his body.
Dang—why did the guy have to be so good-looking? And muscular? And charming?
It didn’t matter. He’d made it clear he wasn’t interested. Even though he’d been the one to kiss her. Both times. Well, three times now, if you counted last night.
And she definitely counted last night. Just thinking about it had her blood heating and funny little tinglies bouncing around in her chest.
Even if he’d turned out to be a class-A jerk, the guy could kiss.
And bake. Surprisingly, he’d actually been a huge help to her today. He hadn’t needed a lot of instruction and worked quickly and efficiently helping her to prepare the cupcakes. And he’d been a huge help in selling them. She’d sold out in record time today and made close to a hundred dollars in tips alone.
She wondered how many of those customers thought they were donating to a good cause. Like Owen was only there to help a charity. Well, she was the only charity that was getting that money. And she needed it. The tips alone would help pay the electric bill for the bakery this month.
Had he considered her a charity case, too? Had he only been helping her because he felt sorry for her? No. He couldn’t be. Most people didn’t kiss someone like that just because they felt sorry for them.
He’d felt something too. She knew it.
Great. Now she was thinking about the kiss again. She needed to stop. Focus on her client.