Don't Call Me Cupcake

by Tara Sheets

  Emma fidgeted with the napkin in her lap. “No, of course I like you. I mean, I don’t like like you.” D’oh! “I barely know you.” She gave a nervous laugh. “Look, you’re fine. It just seems odd to me that someone like you would consider living here. It doesn’t fit.”

  The young waitress showed up again, all smiles. She had refreshed her lipstick, and barely even glanced in Emma’s direction as she placed a small tray of bread and cheese on the table before taking their orders and floating away.

  Hunter placed a napkin on his lap and picked up a slice of French bread. “You don’t think I fit in here?”

  Emma tried not to laugh, but failed. “Oh, come on. It’s obvious you don’t fit in. I mean, look around you.” She gestured to the restaurant crowd, most of whom were swigging beers in old T-shirts and ball caps. A couple of guys were yelling at a Mariners game on TV, and AC/DC’s “Back in Black” played on the antique jukebox in the corner.

  Hunter sat back, amusement creasing the corners of his eyes. “So my clothes are the problem?”

  Your clothes, your sexy smile, your seize-the-world attitude. “I don’t know, you just seem more like someone who’d be happier in a big city. I mean, what allure does this place have for someone like you?”

  “‘Someone like you.’ You keep saying that, as if you have me all figured out.”

  Emma took a sip of her water, ignoring his piercing gaze. “Well, I know from what you’ve already said that you’re a big real estate investor. I know you’re from Seattle and that you plan to expand your business onto the islands. But aside from opening your café, it just seems weird to me that you’d suddenly want to live here.”

  “Maybe I’m tired of the big city and just want a change of scenery.”

  Emma didn’t miss the weariness in his gaze, and something else. Something sharper. “But why? What are you escaping from?”

  Hunter’s gaze flicked to the bar, his mouth drawing into a hard line.

  She wished she hadn’t said it. It was no business of hers. She barely knew him. But it was clear he wasn’t happy about something. If she had to assess him right now, she’d probably prescribe one of her “Lavender Bliss” cupcakes. Something to impart peace and contentment. He needed it. She could feel it.

  A muscle clenched in his jaw, but his emerald eyes gave nothing away. He was the master of his emotions. “I’m just focused on this new expansion project. What better way to understand the island culture than to live here? Besides, whether you believe me or not, I find this place very—”

  A roar erupted at the bar as the Mariners hit a home run on TV. Someone dropped a beer glass and it shattered on the floor.

  “—charming,” Hunter finished.

  Right. He was totally hiding something. But that suited her just fine. He could be all Mr. Secretive if he wanted to be. She thought of Juliette and their plan to gather night-blooming jasmine for the infamous “Go Away” cupcake. Yeah, she had her own secrets.

  Emma shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

  Throughout the rest of dinner, she filled him in on local business traditions, including the Spring Fling dance coming up in a couple of weeks. Every year, the people in town got together for a huge party to celebrate the beginning of summer.

  By the time dessert came, she was feeling relaxed and a little fuzzy around the edges from her third glass of wine. The strawberry shortcake with homemade whipped cream was delicious, and befriending the devil was turning out to be a piece of cake.

  He was so easy to talk to that she almost forgot she was putting on an act. All she had to do was play nice for a few more weeks, and the magic spell on the summer solstice would take care of everything. A glowing sense of optimism settled over her. Or it could have just been the wine. Either way, she’d take it.

  She grinned and ate another bite of shortcake. “You know, whatever your plans are.” Were her words a little slurry? Nah. “I bet you’ll be long gone before autumn hits.”

  He took a sip of his beer. “Is that right?”

  “Uh-huh. I’m positive. Once the rain comes, there’s going to be nothing here you find charming.” She sucked whipped cream off the tip of her finger and sat back with a brilliant smile.

  He studied her from beneath dark lashes. “Nothing?”

  “Nope.” Emma shook her head. “It’s going to be cold and rainy and gray. And you’re going to want something hot and sunny and”—a lock of hair fell over her eyes and she swiped at it—“golden.”

  Hunter’s mouth kicked up at the corner. “I won’t argue with that.” His voice was low-pitched and a little whiskey-rough around the edges. It made her skin flush and her knees feel all rubbery.

  He started to reach out, then stopped. “You have a little bit”—he pointed to the corner of her mouth—“just there.”

  Her comfortable wine haze evaporated as heat burned across her face. She wiped the back of her hand across her bottom lip. Her hair had to be a frizzing mop, by now. What time was it, anyway? Time to go. And the puppy! She still needed to pick him up.

  “Well,” she said as brightly as she could. “This was nice, but I really have to get going.” She stood up fast and fumbled in her purse for some cash.

  “No, allow me.” He signaled the waitress and handed her a card. “Are you sure you don’t want another drink?”

  “No, thanks.” Emma settled her bag on her shoulder. “I have to go. He’s waiting for me.” She thought of the puppy at Mrs. Mooney’s. Was he snuggled up in bed by now? He had to be. She never realized how much puppies slept. And he made the funniest noises sometimes when he was sleeping. Dreaming, maybe. Such a sweet thing. Too bad she couldn’t keep him.

  “Who’s ‘he’?” Hunter asked.

  “He doesn’t have a name yet,” she said absently. He was probably missing her, poor little guy. Maybe she’d bring his puppy crate into her bedroom tonight.

  Hunter gave her a puzzled look. She was so preoccupied, it took her a moment to realize she wasn’t making any sense. “Oh, he’s my puppy. Well, he’s not really mine. I’m just watching him until I can find him a suitable home.”

  Hunter signed the check and stood. “I’ll walk you back.”

  “No need.” Emma waved a hand. It was far too “datey” for him to walk her back to the shop, anyway. What then? A kiss at the door? Ha! Her face flamed. It was definitely time to go.

  “I’m heading in that direction, anyway,” Hunter said.

  Oh, right. Bethany’s Bed & Breakfast. Poor Hunter. He had no idea what he was in for, with that woman. Or maybe he’d go for it. He wouldn’t be the first man dazzled by her hubcaps.

  Just as they made it to the entrance, Ms. Mack Truck herself rolled through the door.

  “Oh my God, hi!” Bethany gushed. She stood inside the threshold in skintight iridescent yoga pants and a matching halter top. Her hair was expertly curled and her perfect makeup looked airbrushed, which kind of ruined the whole “I just did yoga” look. On either side of Bethany, her two friends, Starla and Cherie, beamed like matching headlights.

  Emma remembered them well, since they were all popular girls back in high school. For the year that Emma dated Rodney, her ex, they pretended to be nice. But it didn’t last long. They were the cattiest women Emma had ever known, and age hadn’t changed them much.

  “Oh, Hunter, you didn’t tell me you knew Emma.” Bethany smiled like a piranha, her lululemon scales glistening in the halogen light above the entrance. “We all went to high school together.”

  “We’ve been discussing plans for the summer festival,” Hunter said.

  “Oh, that sounds like a whole lot of boring work for a Saturday night.” Bethany laughed. “You should stay and hang out with us.”

  “Yes, stay.” Starla smoothed her sleek black hair. As a recently divorced real estate agent, she looked stylish in slacks and matching jewelry, but she still chewed her gum like it owed her money.

  “It’ll be super fun.” Cherie giggled.

  Yep. It was
high school all over again.

  “You can try the new drink James made us last time,” Starla added.

  Bethany leaned closer to Hunter. “It’s kind of a girly drink, but I have a feeling you’d just love it.” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and let it out slowly.

  Emma had to give Bethany credit. The woman knew how to cast a lure. If Bimbo Basics had been a class back in high school, she’d have aced it without even studying.

  Bethany fiddled with the decorative laces on her halter top, drawing attention to her very large, very fake boobs.

  Forget acing the test, Emma thought in annoyance. Bethany could’ve taught the class. “I have to get going,” she said. “See you guys later.”

  To her own—and no doubt, Bethany’s—complete shock, Hunter lightly placed his hand on Emma’s back. “Sorry, ladies, but we have to go. Maybe next time.”

  Emma walked briskly down Front Street with Hunter beside her. He followed her out. She couldn’t believe it. He followed her out! Olympic-sized cleavage and expert hair flipping, and he turned it all down, just like that.

  She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. It made sense, given that he looked the way he did. Being fawned over was probably no big deal. Just another day in the life.

  Back at her shop, Emma closed up and brought the puppy outside to meet him. He ran circles around Hunter’s legs, tail wagging in pure joy.

  “Juliette gave him to me last night,” Emma said. “I guess he’s going to live at my place for a little while, until I find a family for him.”

  “Hey, buddy.” Hunter dropped down to pet the puppy. The expression on his face was so full of genuine admiration that Emma caught her breath. God, he was gorgeous. And he liked her dog! And you’re being a complete idiot right now, she reminded herself. It’s not even your dog, remember?

  “You need a name, buddy. What’s your name?” He scratched the puppy behind the ears and scooped him up.

  Emma tried to ignore the deep sense of pleasure that spiraled through her at the sight of them together. It was like her body was sending out alert signals. Attention: girl parts! Hot guy holding a puppy!

  She shoved the feeling aside. “He doesn’t have a name yet. I haven’t come up with anything.”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Hunter set the puppy back down. “I better get going.”

  She crossed her arms, hugging herself. “Thanks for dinner. I’ll see you next week.”

  “How’s three o’clock on Wednesday?”

  Emma nodded. Molly would be working that shift, so she’d have time to show him the files. That was almost four days away. Plenty of time for his hotness factor to fade. No problems there.

  He leaned down and ruffled the puppy’s fur. “Bye, buddy.”

  Emma watched as he crossed the street and headed toward the B&B. She heaved a sigh. “What am I going to do about him, buddy?”

  The puppy let out a joyful bark and thumped his tail.

  She peered down at him. “Buddy?”

  He wagged his tail so hard, it spun in circles.

  “No way. That can’t be your name. It’s so basic. Like something a little kid would come up with.”

  Buddy wasn’t interested in being sophisticated. He was, however, interested in chasing the tip of his tail.

  Emma scooped him up and rubbed her face against his soft fur. “All right, Buddy,” she whispered. “You picked it. You live with it.”

  Chapter Nine

  Emma fed Buddy in the kitchen the following evening. “You’re still going to get a better name as soon as I find you a family,” she promised, patting his head. “Consider it just a placeholder.”

  She had just posted an ad in the local paper that morning. Even though she adored him, he deserved more. He deserved a place with loving parents and noisy kids who ran wild down the halls and dropped Cheerios under the breakfast table for happy dogs to discover. A place where people gathered and celebrated, where they held on and supported one another and loved one another, no matter what happened. A real home.

  Behind her, the ancient recipe book thumped open on the counter. She didn’t have to turn around to know it had opened to the “Day of Bliss” recipe. Emma sighed and closed the book for the third time that day. “Give it up,” she told the house. “I keep telling you, that recipe is broken.”

  Emma was just about to dive into the piles of unread mail on the entry table, when the house shuddered and a door slammed upstairs.

  “My sentiments, exactly,” she said, peering at all the overdue bills. How was she ever going to get caught up? There were so many late payments.

  Someone knocked on the front door.

  The curtains in the kitchen window swirled up and out, like open sails on the wind. Emma glanced up from the bill she was reading. The knock came again, and Emma got the feeling the house wasn’t thrilled with the visitor.

  She walked into the foyer and tugged open the door, then froze.

  Rodney Winters, her ex-fiancé, stood on the front porch.

  He was still handsome, but he seemed rougher around the edges than she remembered. His cornflower blue eyes were bloodshot with dark circles, and his blond hair was in need of a trim. The faint scent of cigarettes and whiskey wafted in the air between them.

  Buddy ran up and sniffed at his shoes, then turned away and trotted into the living room. He was unimpressed with Rodney. Smart dog.

  “Hey, Angel,” Rodney said.

  The old endearment tasted like ashes on her tongue. Emma couldn’t find her voice. The past came crashing back in waves and she struggled against the undertow.

  He leaned one hand casually against the doorframe. It reminded her of the first time he paid attention to her in high school, leaning against her locker. He had been the football star running back; the king of the school. All smooth-talking charm and sunshine blond hair. No one was more surprised than Emma when he singled her out during their senior year.

  She had been a quiet girl who didn’t belong in Rodney’s circle. At the time, she couldn’t believe her luck. Rodney Winters, the most popular boy in school, liked her. Her! For the rest of that year, she basked in the glory of his attention. He represented everything she had ever wanted: a sense of belonging, companionship, acceptance, and what she hoped was love. But not long after graduation, he grew distant. Then he moved away to college in California and forgot about her.

  When Emma turned twenty-one, Rodney came home again. He had decided college was too conforming, the teachers too self-absorbed, and he wanted to live life on his own terms. It wasn’t until much later that Emma found out it was because those pesky college classes kept getting in the way of the parties, and he was expelled for failing grades.

  Still a little in love with him, Emma let him back into her life. Her grandmother’s cancer had progressed and Emma needed to feel connected to someone, more than ever. In retrospect, that was the only reason she agreed to marry him when he proposed on her twenty-second birthday. By that time, she had already learned Rodney was far from perfect. He drank a lot. He wasn’t always accountable. He could spin any story to suit his needs. But he was familiar, and with her grandmother dying and life feeling so uncertain, Emma needed something familiar.

  Shortly after her grandmother died, Emma came home one day to find the canister above the kitchen cupboard empty. It was where she stashed every extra bit of money she had, which added up to a few thousand dollars. Rodney was supposed to contribute to their future savings with his job as a local mechanic, but by then he was giving all his money to Johnnie Walker. Everything in that tin had been Emma’s and he took it all, leaving just a scribbled note behind:

  E—I’m sorry but I can’t marry you. Ever since your grandma got sick, it’s like I’m not important anymore. You used to be fun, but I guess people change.

  I’ve got to be free.—R

  Later she found out he really meant “free” to see other people. After stealing her money, he had run off to the mainland w
ith some barfly. His abandonment had hurt so much, but the past eighteen months had changed her.

  After the initial shock of his betrayal wore off, it was like the whole world cracked open. She could be herself without having to make excuses. She could blast her favorite music anytime she wanted. Eat pancakes for dinner. Go without makeup and not feel self-conscious. She could do whimsical art projects or discuss spells with Juliette or talk out loud to the house without having to endure Rodney’s disapproving looks. Oh, he’d heard the rumors about the Holloway family abilities, but he wasn’t a real believer. Rodney was all about being the “special” one, and nobody was allowed to eclipse that. Emma didn’t even realize how much she had tailored herself to fit into his life, until he was gone.

  Now she understood that the truly important people were the ones who accepted her, no matter what. Her grandmother always told her, “Those who matter don’t mind, honey. And those who mind, don’t matter.” Emma had grown up and learned to embrace the life she was given, instead of trying so hard to fit into someone else’s. The lustrous glow of Rodney Winters had finally died away.

  Her hands trembled but she forced her voice to remain steady. “What are you doing here?”

  “I just got back into town and wanted to see you.” He shifted a little closer, all easy, masculine grace, until his broad shoulders filled the doorway. “You grew your hair out again,” he murmured. “Just how I like it.”

  He reached out to stroke her hair.

  She jerked back. It bothered her that he seemed completely at ease, standing on her doorstep. As if no time had passed. As if they still shared a life together.

  Rodney chuckled and hooked a hand into the pocket of his jeans, letting his gaze slide down her body. “You look good.”

  She crossed her arms tightly around her chest. He had been her first everything. He was the only man on the planet who had ever seen her naked. She didn’t like the fact, but there it was. It never ceased to amaze her how you could be so close to someone one moment, and then completely out of their lives the next. Emma knew she could never be one of those people who flitted from one person to another. She put far too much importance on relationships to be so fickle.