by Donna Hill
Needless to say, Maggie was focused. She incorporated fresh crushed pecans from Swayne’s Pecan Orchard to help create a twist on the traditional cupcake. Not only did she press fresh crushed pecans to make a half inch siding around the rim of the rich cream cheese frosting, Maggie crowned the cupcake with a tiara made of thin slices of fresh pineapple dried until the edges curled upwards into the shape of a flower. The beautiful desserts barely had time to stay in the display case. All she needed was one good picture of the cupcake to send to the Dessert Historian website, and she and The Cupcakery would be set for unlimited publicity. She only had a few minutes left before her window of opportunity closed to get the perfect picture posted.
So when the tiny brass bell over the door jingled again, Maggie hollered out she’d be with them in a moment. Her hands shook. She just needed to crown the golden cupcake with the flower at the right angle of perfection. Her helper today, Tiffani Carres, was on a break. A rather long break.
“It’s okay, darlin’, I’ve got all the time in the world to wait for you.”
Without looking up from positioning the sweetened flower, Maggie knew without a doubt that slow Southern drawl oozed from a pair of full lips like melted caramel on a man she could have sworn she’d never lay eyes on again. Heart racing, Maggie puckered her mouth together to keep from grinning. Most women would be gushing into a puddle if a man like Caden Archibald came in here, all slick and charming with his Southern accent. Not her. The man had basically had a one-night stand with her eleven years ago, then left without saying so much as goodbye. But damn, the time they’d had together was fun. Caden raised the bar for other men in her bed.
“I can tell by the deep dimples popping up on those beautiful cheekbones that you are trying to recall all the reasons you have for being upset with me but can’t.”
If he flattered her one more time with that bedroom voice of his, Maggie might jump over the counter and cover his body with icing.
“Caden Archibald,” Maggie returned the greeting with her Southwood Southern drawl matching his Savannah tone. “Of all the cupcake joints...”
Before she got the chance to finish, Caden held his hand in the air. Gold cuff links caught the lighting of the afternoon sun beaming in through the glass door. Always impeccably dressed, Caden wore a pair of light blue slacks with a darker blue blazer over a blue-and-white-striped shirt. The yellow tie offered the perfect amount of pop. Damn, it was like he stepped off the runway at men’s week—another social media event she no longer attended.
“Save it, Magnolia.”
“Maggie,” she corrected him. “I gather after eleven years of radio silence you may have forgotten what I prefer.”
Caden stepped farther into the shop. Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie watched the lady patrons salivate for the second time—the first for the cupcakes and the second for the man. She couldn’t blame them.
“Oh, I know exactly what you prefer. Grab that icing and I’ll show you what I remember.”
A lady at the counter suffocated her laugh into the icing as she eavesdropped on the conversation. Maggie shot her a glare.
“All right, Caden,” she said.
“I only honored your wish,” Caden explained. He stepped closer to the decorating station, leaving a trail of women checking out his backside. “If I recall correctly, you wanted no strings attached.”
Maggie tilted her head and remembered the white chef’s hat hiding her hair. Thank god she looked cute in the thing. “I didn’t expect you to honor them.”
“I am an honorable man,” said Caden, raising a thick brow.
Snorting, Maggie shook her head. “Caden Archibald and honorable do not go together.”
“You wound me.” Caden clutched his heart with his right hand and then his left. He wore no rings. But even if he did marry, somehow Maggie didn’t think he’d flaunt such an advertisement on his fingers.
“Whatever,” Maggie replied. “You’re keeping me from my work. What will you have?”
One of his thick black eyebrows rose, and his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip while he stroked his chin. Shocked at his audacity, Maggie gasped. “Oh my God, are you seriously this childish?”
Caden put his hand in the air for surrender. “What? You’re the one who asked the question.”
Thankfully Tiffani reappeared from the back French doors. “All right, I’m back,” she said cheerfully and then added, as her head did a double take, “Well damn, hello.”
“Hello,” said Caden.
Maggie didn’t bother turning around to face her coworker and the daughter of the owner of the shop. “Tiffani, this is...”
“Caden Archibald, sports agent.” It didn’t surprise Maggie that Tiffani knew Caden’s career. At one point in her life, Tiffani had made plans to be in the WNBA, but a knee injury waylaid her.
“Sports and entertainment agent,” Caden confirmed. “I need to make sure my clients are represented on the field and off.”
Tiffani sidled up to Maggie and elbowed her in the ribs. “So speaking of playing the field...”
“We weren’t,” Maggie clarified. “Caden is an old acquaintance.”
Caden stroked his chin again, bringing attention to a perfectly groomed goatee. “Acquaintances now?”
“Clearly,” Tiffani began, her eyes darting between the two of them, “you both need a moment together to bump that status up to at least friends.”
Maggie shook her head from side to side. “I have to get this photo uploaded.” She pointed toward the bakery-themed clock above the front door with a plate for a face and a spoon and fork for the hands. “I don’t have a lot of time.”
“I can handle uploading a photo,” said Tiffani. She picked up the camera on the counter.
Caden however, nodded in agreement. “I think that’s a great idea. Maggie, this will only take a moment.”
“I’m busy.” Maggie fanned her hands at the glass display then the crowd.
To be ornery, Tiffani pushed Maggie’s arm down. “It’s time for your break. I’ve got this. You forget, I was raised up in here.”
Scoffing, Maggie rolled her eyes while she untied her black-and-white gingham apron. “Fine, follow me.”
“You know,” Caden said, trailing Maggie through the kitchen, “I am beginning to get the feeling you don’t want to talk to me.”
“What is there to talk about, Caden?” She stopped just short of the screen doors that led to the back alley, where a constant cool breeze always flowed between the bakery and the bookstore behind them.
With a smirk, his dark almond-shaped eyes glanced around the kitchen, veering to the counters and the ceiling, where even Maggie spied a few splatters of batter. The kitchen was a mess. Metal bowls were everywhere. Paper cupcake liners sprinkled the floor near where she’d bumped into the back table earlier today. A steady drip flowed from the faucet of the deep sink filled with more dishes.
When their eyes met, Maggie shrugged off her embarrassment with a shake of her head, causing her chef’s hat to shift to the side. She grabbed the toque and kept it in her hand. “What? You have to crack a few eggs in order to make a masterpiece.”
“It certainly was a beautiful cupcake.” A bit of humor hung in his deep voice.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why do I get the feeling you have something funny to say?”
“I’m just remembering a time when you didn’t know the recipe for strawberry milk.”
Maggie waved her hand. “Eons ago. Why are you here?”
“Not much for the small talk these days?”
“Caden,” Maggie said with a long drawled-out sigh, “have I mentioned I don’t have time for this? I’m busy these days.”
“Busy doing what? Baking cupcakes?”
“Welp, goodbye.” It was better to walk away from Caden now before he sweet-talked her out
of her panties right here in the back of the bakery. Best if she used whatever reason possible, too.
“Maggie,” Caden pleaded and reached for her elbow. “I didn’t mean to make baking sound bad.”
“What were you implying?” she asked, her shoulders squared as she did a head toss to flip her hair off her shoulders.
“I mean one moment you’re gracing the stage of my mother’s beauty pageant—” he began before she cut him off.
“And her son’s bed.”
Caden gave a short head nod. “Wait, are you supposed to be mad at me for what happened between us?”
A flash of lightning struck in her heart. Was she?
Stroking his thumb against her skin, Caden’s dark eyes beamed down on her. “I followed your wishes. Was I wrong?”
Maggie pulled her arm away and avoided his eye contact. She wanted to be the independent tough girl who never regretted her decisions. Biting her lip, she rolled her eyes before facing him again. Suddenly images popped into her head, with them standing here like this, inches apart. A wedding day at a church altar, on the front steps of a hospital with a newborn tucked in a white blanket between them, even them as an elderly couple with gray strands in their hair. With a deep inhale, Maggie averted her eyes to the knot of his tie. Beneath it, his chest rose in the same quick rhythm as hers. Did he see the same thing?
“Maggie.” Caden breathed her name, reminding her of his whispers against her ears.
“Can we wrap this up?”
Caden nodded. “I need you to be in Savannah soon.”
“Funny,” Maggie laughed without even asking why.
“I’m serious,” said Caden. “It’s not for me, it’s for Kit.”
The laughter bubbling in the back of her throat died down. Kit Archibald, Caden’s mother, was the queen of pageant shows. The Southern Style Glitz pageants put beauty queens on the map for success. Contestants often went on to represent their cities in Georgia. Or they went on to the Miss USA, Miss America, Miss World and even the National Sweetheart pageants. Everyone succeeded as a beauty queen except for Maggie. Maggie, a former Miss Southwood, hadn’t won anything other than Miss Congeniality.
Despite Maggie’s distaste for pageants now, Miss Kit had always been kind to her. “Is everything okay with your mom?” Even though his nod was slow, a sinking feeling washed over her.
“I think so. She’s requesting certain people attend her meeting. Especially you.”
Maggie crossed her arms over her chest. “And you came here right away, thinking you would sweep me off my feet?”
“I am a sports agent, Maggie,” Caden clarified. “I have clients here.”
Her lips stretched into the shape of an O. Heat crept up her neck and with the combination of the late midday sun and the hot oven air, a bead of sweat trickled down her spine. “Well, I’ll have to send your mom my apologies. I can’t make it.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Caden crossed his arms and leaned forward.
“I have obligations, Caden,” she replied, fanning her hand toward the bakery. “And speaking of, I need to get this picture uploaded before noon.”
Caden stepped in her way. “What’s the deal with you and the cupcakes?”
One of the stipulations placed on her in order to get her trust fund was to keep the deal with her father quiet and off social media. Except for her new budget-friendly advice for socialites on Haute Tips, Maggie had disconnected from the world. Which also meant no one knew what she was up to. Maggie nibbled on her bottom lip for a moment, contemplating telling Caden the embarrassing truth—that she’d been placed on restrictions by her father.
“I enjoy what I do,” Maggie said truthfully. “People count on me here.”
“People counted on you in Miami, New York, LA, Milan.”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “Stalker much?”
“I can read, Maggie.” Caden chuckled and shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the door. “My clients are often at a lot of events you attend. I’ve seen photos and articles about the Pecan Princess.”
The moniker said out loud evoked an eye roll. “Whatever. I’ve got to get inside. To get this photo posted.”
“So you won’t come to my mother’s meeting?”
A piece of Maggie’s heart broke. “I love Kit, Caden, I really do, but I can’t be there Saturday. I can’t walk away from my responsibilities here.”
Caden’s eyes lit up as his brows rose. “Magnolia and responsibilities... I never thought I’d hear those two words put together.”
“You said something about being honorable,” Maggie jeered with a squint of her eyes. “I really have to get back inside.”
Pushing down the lump in her throat, Maggie stomped through the kitchen. Was this what her father meant about never taking responsibility for anything in her life? After eleven years and clearly spying on her via social media, Caden still had one opinion of her. Did everyone else?
The noise level inside increased when Maggie entered the front of the bakery. Tiffani was managing to serve the customers. Patrons were smiling, laughing. Some pinched the pieces off cupcakes from their white paper linings, some used their fingers to swipe the cream cheese frosting and others bit into the dried pineapple flower. Whatever their way of doing it, everyone appeared to be happy.
Still, Maggie had to ask. “How’s it going?”
Tiffani beamed. “This might be the biggest crowd yet.”
As Tiffani went on about the orders for later on today and for tomorrow, Maggie looked over at the empty dessert stand where she had had the perfect cupcake posed and ready. Her phone sat on the counter next to a smear of white frosting and pecan sprinkles. The spoon and fork hands of the clock above the door all pointed to twelve.
“Everything went okay with the website?”
“So about that,” Tiffani began.
Panic seized Maggie’s heart. “Please don’t tell me anything went wrong. I had the website up. All you had to do was upload the photo.” Immediately Maggie reached for her phone. A family photo, set as her home screen, greeted Maggie now. Taken at her sister Kenzie’s wedding, it featured Kenzie, Maggie and Bailey, Maggie’s seventeen-year-old niece.
“So, what had happened was,” Tiffani stuttered, “you had the website saved and you had the camera on, which overlapped the time on your phone. I got busy with the customers, but I knew I had time.” She pointed toward the clock above the door, which just now indicated the deadline time for posting photos. “I forgot that I used to set the clock back the night before if I knew I was going to be late so Mama won’t fuss at me. Girl, you were already ten minutes late when you handed me the camera.”
Wordlessly, Maggie stood there. She blinked a few times, trying to register what Tiffani had just said. She’d had one shot with the Dessert Historian.
“Since it appears you didn’t make your deadline,” said Caden’s deep voice behind her, “can I get confirmation that you can attend Kit’s conference?”
Copyright © 2019 by Carolyn Hall
ISBN-13: 9781488034411
What the Heart Wants & Sealed with a Kiss
Copyright © 2019 by Harlequin Books S.A.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:
What the Heart Wants
Copyright © 2019 by Donna Hill
Sealed with a Kiss
Copyright © 2019 by Renee Daniel Flagler
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