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“I doubt that. I could watch you work. I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s beautiful, the work you do.” He took a breath. Gathered his courage. “If you don’t mind, when you’re done, we could talk, just you and me.”
Ava stared over the top frills of the cake. She blinked hard, as if she were trying to bring him into focus. Or make sense of what he was saying. “Talk?”
“Sure. We’ve met before, don’t you remember? Maybe we can go down the street for a cup of coffee. Get to know each other better.”
“What?” The spatula dropped from her supple artist’s fingers and clattered on the metal tabletop. “You want to get to know me better?”
Uh-oh. She didn’t look happy about that. He’d never had that reaction from a woman before. Okay, maybe he’d jumped the gun. “Do you have a boyfriend? I should have asked first. I noticed you weren’t wearing a wedding ring and I assumed—”
She cut him off, circling around the table like a five-star army general. “You assumed? What’s wrong with you?”
He couldn’t believe how mad she looked. “Hey, what did I do? I just wanted to talk.”
“Talk? Oh, is that what men like you call it? You need to get some morals.”
Well, at least she was a lady with serious principles. He liked that. He respected Ava’s inner fiber. It was a little passionate, but he liked that, too. He held up both hands, a show of surrender. “Hey, I didn’t know you were attached. Why wouldn’t you be? Look at you. Of course you have a boyfriend. He probably worships at your feet.”
“No, I don’t have a boyfriend, but what about you and Chloe? You’re getting married! You should leave. Go.”
Normally, he might take offense at her dismissal, but he didn’t seem to mind.
No boyfriend, huh? Okay, call him interested. No, call him dazzled, that’s what he was. She fascinated him, all pure inner fire and feeling. But this wasn’t going well. Usually he got a better response than this.
“What am I going to have to tell your bride?” Her sweetheart-shaped face turned pink with fury. “The poor woman thinks she’s getting married to Mr. Right. Little does she know you’re Mr. Yuck, wanting to get to know me the evening before your wedding. I don’t think you want to chat either!”
So, that was it. Whew. For a minute there, he was afraid she really didn’t like him. “You misunderstood.”
“Misunderstood? Oh, I don’t think so.”
Men, Ava fumed. What was wrong with the species? This was why she wasn’t married. Too many of the gender were just like this guy, and nothing made her madder. Spitting mad. “I’m a good Christian girl. Get a clue, buddy. Are you misunderstanding me now?”
“Uh, no. I noticed the gold cross. You look like a very nice Christian girl to me.”
He was being agreeable now, but it didn’t matter. “Poor Chloe. Now what do I do? Do I tell her? Or do I make you do it? A man like you doesn’t deserve a nice wife like her. What kind of man would do that to the woman he was about to marry?”
He chuckled. Actually chuckled, the sound rich as cream. His dimples deepened. Tiny, attractive laugh lines crinkled around his kind, warm brown eyes.
That was the problem. He didn’t look like a cheater. He looked like a nice guy. What did a girl do in a world where icky men could look as good as the nice ones?
She’d had this problem before. This was why she had a newly instated policy of staying away from every last one of them, unless they needed to buy a cake from her, of course. She intended to stick to her current no-man policy one hundred percent. “This is the last time I’m telling you to leave.”
“Okay, stand down, soldier.” He held up both hands as if he were surrendering. “I’ll go. But please accept my apology. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Obviously you weren’t thinking at all. Or you thought that I looked easy, and let me tell you, you couldn’t be more wrong.”
“Ava McKaslin, you look like class to me. I can’t help noticing that you aren’t happy with my interest.”
“You got that right. Hey! You’re not heading toward the door.”
“We’re not done discussing the cake.” He had the audacity to grin again.
That grin became more charming each time he used it, Ava thought, making him look like the absolute perfect guy.
She’d been fooled by dimples and charm too many times before. “The cake will be ready and delivered at the country club’s service entrance by nine tomorrow morning, as agreed. There. Discussion done.”
“Chloe will be relieved. You aren’t going to mention this little misunderstanding to her, right?”
Didn’t that take the prize? “I don’t know. I may have to consult my sisters and my minister on this one. She should know the kind of man she’s marrying.”
“I’m not the groom.”
“Oh, sure you’re not.” Ava rolled her eyes. Some men would resort to anything. Men like him had made her give up dating. Perhaps forever. Good thing she’d vowed to turn all her energy to making a success of her business, because it would be impossible to make marriage work considering the men running around these days.
She reloaded her spatula with frosting. “You’re not gone yet.”
He sighed, resigned as he backed through the kitchen doorway. “I guess I’ll see you at the wedding, huh?”
“Not if I can help it.” Really, what gave this guy the idea that she was interested? “I’d better follow you to the door to make sure you really leave. Then I’m going to lock it, so no more riffraff can get in.”
“At least I’m not the backdoor burglar, or you would have really been in trouble. That spatula loaded with frosting wouldn’t be much of a weapon against a revolver.” He paused in the front door, framed by the brilliant June sunshine. His grin went cosmic. “By the way, you have frosting on your nose. It’s cute. Real cute.”
“You’re not so attractive, Mr. Yuck.”
“Ava, listen. I’m not the groom. When you deliver the cake, stick around for the wedding. You’ll see I’m the best man. So, how about it?”
She grabbed his arm and gave him a shove. It was impossible not to notice he felt like solid steel. Once he’d rocked backward a step, she was able to slam the door. Not that he was harmful, she thought as she threw the dead bolt, but she’d had enough of not-so-stellar men.
So why did she gravitate to the front windows that gave her a perfect view of the parking lot?
Because she wanted to make sure he left, the horrible man, trying to pick up a woman on the night before his wedding. Despicable.
It was hard to believe a human being was capable of behaving so badly, but she’d been propositioned like that before. Three wedding cakes ago. Darrin Fullerton had thought that when she delivered the two-tier caramel coconut cake that she was ready to serve up something else, too. It still shocked her. Too many men needed to spend more time reading their Bibles. Filling their minds with uplifting and spiritual subjects. Learning to recite the Psalms. List the seven deadly sins. That kind of thing.
The groom climbed into a bright red luxury sports car—not surprising—and zipped away. As he passed by the shop’s glassed front, his driver’s side window whipped down and he lifted his designer aviator sunglasses to give her a wink.
Horrible. Anger turned her vision to pure crimson. Seconds passed until she could see normally again. The parking lot was empty, the red sports car long gone.
Her cell phone chimed. The cheerful jingle came from very near. She looked down and found it in her apron pocket. The display said it was her twin sister, Aubrey. “Howdy.”
“I’m just pulling up into the lot. I can see your frowny face from here.”
“I have more than a frowny face on. It’s my down-on-men face.”
“Wow. What happened?”
“Oh, another groom trying to get one last party in before he commits.” Ava spotted her bright yellow SUV cautiously creeping across the empty lot. Her sister had borrowed it and was coming closer. “What is it with men and commitment? I don’t get why it’s so terrifying. It’s not any more frightening than a lot of things. Like premature baldness.”
“Crow’s feet.”
“New car payments. Now that’s scary. Which is why I’m glad I’ve given up on dating. Who cares if I ever get married?”
“You do.”
“Too true.” Ava sighed. “I’ve got a few more minutes to finish up, and then I’m good to go.”
Aubrey brought the vehicle to a slow stop at the curb outside the window. She leaned forward, squinting through the windshield. “You brought a change of clothes, right? Or are you going to the movies like that?”
“I knew I forgot something.” Ava snapped the phone shut. Who needed a man when she had enough disaster in her life?
Too bad the kind of man she needed—perfect in every way, no selfishness, no flaws or questionable morals—didn’t exist.
So what was a nice girl to do? Settle for Mr. So-So or Marginally Moral? As if!
Ava unlocked the door for Aubrey and went back to work. There was the wedding cake in all its loveliness, fresh and beautiful like the new promise a wedding should be. But would she ever know what that new promising love felt like? No.
Disappointed, she grabbed a clean spatula from the drawer by the sink and went back to work, making sugar roses. Trying not to dwell on the sadness that was buried so deep inside she could almost pretend it didn’t exist. She didn’t want to live her life without knowing true love.
But with the men she kept running into, she had no other choice.
Chapter Two
The next morning, Brice pulled into the country club’s parking lot and killed the engine. It was 8:53 a.m. Hadn’t Ava promised the cake would be delivered by nine?
He climbed out into the hot sunshine, made hotter by the monkey suit he had to wear. He hooked a finger beneath his tie and tugged until he had a little more breathing room. After remoting the door locks, he hadn’t gone five steps before his cell rang. He thumbed it from his pocket. Seeing his sister’s number on the call screen made his step lighter. “Having cold feet yet?”
“No way. I can’t wait to get married. I don’t have a single doubt. Where are you?”
“Where do you think?”
“Ha! You’re up to something. You’re not answering me.” She sounded happy, her voice light and easy.
Brice was glad for his little sister. He wouldn’t mind having that kind of happiness in his life. He checked his Rolex. Another minute had ticked by. He shouldered through the club’s main door. “Where I am is none of your business. Is Mom giving you problems?”
“When isn’t she giving me problems? She means well. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself so I don’t flip out. She’s made two of my bridesmaids cry. She’s decided the wedding planner isn’t capable and is trying to take over.”
“Do you need me to come run interference?”
“Do you know what I need you to do?” Chloe sounded as if she was very glad he’d asked. “I’d love it if you could swing by the club and check on the cake.”
I know what you’re up to little sister, he thought. But he didn’t mind. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking of Ava since he’d left her shop yesterday.
It ate at him that she thought he was the groom. She was right—from her mistaken perspective he did look like a Mr. Yuck. Now, that was a misperception he had to change, even if he had to show her two forms of ID to do it.
Because he didn’t want to encourage his sister, he tried to sound indifferent. Not at all interested. “Tell me what you know about this baker you went with.”
“Ha! You like her. I know you do.”
“I don’t know her.” Yet. But he intended to change that.
As he began looking around the room, he spotted her through the closed French doors into the ballroom and he froze in place. Ava. Seeing her was like the first light of dawn rising, and that was something he’d never felt before. Ever.
“I met Ava when we were volunteering at the community church’s shelter kitchen.” Chloe sounded very far away, although the cell connection was crystal clear. “She’s sweet and kind and hysterical. We had a great time, until they asked her to leave.”
What had she said? Brice’s mind was spinning. He couldn’t seem to focus. All he could think of was Ava. Her thick, shiny hair was tied up into a haphazard ponytail, bouncing in time with her movements. She was busily going over the cake, checking each colorful flower and sparkling golden accent.
She hadn’t noticed him yet and seemed lost in her own world. She had a set of earbuds in, probably listening to a pocket-sized digital music player. She wore jeans and a yellow T-shirt that said on the back “Every Kind of Heaven” in white script.
Was the saying true? It had to be. She did look like everything sweet and good in the world.
“Brice? Are you listening to me?”
He felt dazed, as if he’d been run over by a bus. He couldn’t orient himself in place and time. Any minute Ava would look up, and when she saw him, she’d leap to the same conclusion as before—that he was Mr. Yuck. If he didn’t act quickly, would she start lobbing frosting at him?
He’d never quite had that effect on a woman before.
“Look, Chloe. I gotta go. Call if you need anything, okay?”
“Sure. You’ll make sure Ava doesn’t need any help, right? She’s just starting her business and she hasn’t hired anyone yet. She’ll need some assistance with all the favors we ordered. Remember, if you change your mind and decide to bring a date to my wedding, feel free.”
“Sure. Right,” he said vaguely.
Ava. He was having the toughest time concentrating on anything else. His thoughts kept drifting to the woman on the other side of the door.
When he opened it, he heard a lightly muttered, “Oops!”
Ava’s voice made his senses spin.
Think, Brice. He clicked off his phone and stepped into the ballroom.
Morning light spilled through the long row of closed French doors and onto her. She looked tinier than he remembered. Maybe it was that she had such a big personality that she gave the impression of stature. She was surprisingly petite with slender lines and almost skinny arms and legs. There was no one else helping. How she’d delivered that big cake by herself was a mystery. It had to be heavy.
He knew the moment she sensed his presence. The line of her slender shoulders stiffened. Every muscle went completely rigid. She pulled the earbuds out of her ears, turning toward him in one swift movement.
“You.” If looks could kill, he’d at least be bleeding. “What are you doing here? You’re just like Darrin Fullerton. He showed up when I was delivering the cake to beg me not to say anything to his bride. He’d been drunk, he’d said, and didn’t know what he was doing when he propositioned me. As if that’s any excuse!”
Quick, Brice, look innocent. He held up both hands in surrender. “Wait. I’m nothing like that Fullerton guy. I’m a completely innocent best man. Really.”
“Innocent? I don’t think so.”
Ava gave him her best squinty-eyed look. He was bigger than she remembered, a good six feet tall. When she’d shoved him out the door of her bakery, it had been like trying to move a bulldozer.
She went up on tiptoe so she could glare at him directly, not exactly eye to eye, but it was the best she could manage, being so short. “Are you ashamed of yourself? At all?”
He didn’t look unashamed. “Chloe’s going to love that cake. You did an amazing job.”
“Now if only I can control the urge to lob the top tier at you.”
“Do you think you can restrain that urge for a few seconds? I’ve got something to show you.” He reached into his back pocket.
