Love Takes the Cake Page 6

  Charlotte snorted back a laugh, her head still buried. “I can’t even look at you right now. I’m going to burst into flames I’m so embarrassed.”

  He wanted to see that. He gently prodded her bent arm. “Waiting on an answer here.” Third time was the charm. “Charlotte? Will you go on a date with me?”

  Zoe suddenly barreled back through the kitchen door. “Mom! Say yes. Please!”

  Julie popped her head around the frame. “We really need better soundproofing back here.”

  Charlotte lifted her head, cheeks red, eyes closed. Hope built in Will’s chest. She was caving. Slowly.

  “Mom, if you say yes, I won’t eat sweets for an entire day.” Zoe’s wide-eyed, solemn promise couldn’t have been more perfect if Will had planned it. He held his breath.

  Charlotte looked at her daughter, then at Will. Then at Julie, who gave a thumbs-up, then back at Will, and released a sigh. “Make it two days.”

  “Two?” Indignation filled the little girl’s voice.

  Will raised his eyebrows at her. Mouthed the word please. She frowned, twisted her braid, and then nodded. “Okay. It’s a deal, Mommy.”

  Charlotte met Will’s eyes and offered a timid smile. “It’s a deal.”

  “I can’t believe you thought I was dating my sister.”

  “Will!” Charlotte kicked him under the table, stifling a laugh. Talk about poor timing for their waiter. He delivered a fresh basket of chips and fled the scene.

  When he was gone, she leaned forward across the white tablecloth and lowered her voice. At this point in the evening, they’d probably annoyed their table-neighbors enough with all their laughter. “I didn’t think you were dating your sister. I didn’t know she was your sister. Big difference there.”

  Once again, those hazel eyes kept drawing her in. All of her doubts and fears about this date had dissipated halfway into their appetizer of queso and tortilla chips.

  Earlier Zoe had caught her double-checking her reflection in the mirror. “Don’t worry, Mommy,” she said. “You look like a princess.”

  Now she was beginning to feel like one.

  And it was about time she’d found someone remotely prince-like.

  Will leaned back in his chair, one arm slung along the back. “Eh, details.” He winked.

  She shook her head. “You’re incorrigible.”

  He snagged a chip from the basket and popped it in his mouth. “I was once. Not anymore.”

  “Because of the military?”

  He shrugged. “Partly. You get used to being corrected pretty quickly in basic training.” He picked up another chip, but didn’t eat it. Just turned it end over end in his hand, as if he’d gotten lost in thought. Or in the past.

  She could relate to that. She sensed he wanted to say more, but couldn’t. Wouldn’t? Maybe it was her turn. After all, he’d taken the first step in asking her out. Now that Melissa wasn’t an issue between them—obviously—Charlotte had no reason not to see what could develop.

  That didn’t make her feel any less terrified, but at least it offered possibilities.

  “Do you regret leaving the military?” The words slipped out before she could fully weigh them. If that was the reason for his hesitations in their conversation, then her bringing it up could backfire. She held her breath.

  “No, I’m happy in the reserves.” The chip turned faster in his hands. “There were some family issues that needed to be taken care of a few years ago, and well—I didn’t have much choice.”

  Family issues. She was a single mom. Say no more.

  “I’m still trying to figure out what to do next. I don’t want to be a trainer all my life, though the time in the gym has been productive.”

  She definitely concurred with that, but didn’t have the nerve to say so. “Okay, so no full-time military, and no permanent training plans in the cards for you. What else do you like to do?”

  He studied the chip in his hand as if it held the secret to some long-buried question. “I used to cook a lot, actually.”

  “Really?” She raised her eyebrows. “Are you thinking about giving me competition?”

  He shot her a glance. “Cook. Not bake.”

  “Lucky for you.”

  He grinned at her tease. “Maybe it’s lucky for you.”

  She was already feeling pretty lucky just sitting here across from him. And now she really wanted him to cook for her sometime.

  Will finally dropped the chip, giving her his full attention once more and making her stomach cartwheel with the intensity of it. “So, what about you? Any regrets?”

  Speaking of single motherhood. She bit her lower lip, wishing she had a chip to spin now. She didn’t want to lie—and he’d already met Zoe. But still . . .

  “That word—regret—it seems so harsh.” She lifted one shoulder. “I don’t regret Zoe. Not for one single second. I just sometimes regret the way all of that came about.”

  He nodded. “Bad breakup?”

  “Ha. That’s an understatement. More like shocking.” She hesitated. “When I told him I was pregnant, he didn’t want to be part of Zoe’s life. At all.” The words poured out, faster and faster, as if some inner dam had burst. She hadn’t vented this story in a long time. “Apparently it cramped his fiancée’s style. I haven’t seen him since he wrote me a pretty pathetic check and told me to hit the road.”

  “That’s unbelievable. Zoe is . . . just . . . she’s . . .” Will hesitated, as if searching for the right words.

  She waited, fully understanding his dilemma—Zoe blew her mind daily with her sweetness, her charm, her talents. She was so blessed.

  “She’s just so awesome.”

  Exactly. She was awesome. “Thank you.” It was completely her dad’s loss. Zoe deserved more than a donor—she deserved a full-time father figure to dote on her.

  All the more reason for Charlotte to choose carefully.

  She picked a chip out of the basket and began breaking it into several pieces on her plate. “I never bothered trying to sue. Couldn’t afford a lawyer at the time, and decided I’d rather make my own way than drag him unwanted into Zoe’s life.”

  And God had provided for her—for them—one step at a time the entire way. She still didn’t deserve such grace.

  “Wait a minute.” Will frowned, scooting his water glass out of the way so he could lean forward. He braced his arms against the table and lowered his voice. “Did you say fiancée a minute ago?”

  She’d wondered if he’d caught that part. She nodded, trying unsuccessfully to throttle back the fear. “My boyfriend—Zoe’s dad—was engaged to another woman while we were together.” Even now, the shame of that truth rubbed a raw spot.

  “And you didn’t know.” It wasn’t a question. The matter-of-fact way he uttered it warmed a long-frozen spot in Charlotte’s heart.

  “Right. I didn’t know.”

  The usual rush of memories—vivid reminders of that cold football game, that horrible showdown in the stadium in front of the entire school, the pounding of her broken heart now beating for two—didn’t come. Instead, there was calm. Peace. As if she’d finally taken a step away from her past and into her future.

  Will cleared a spot as the waiter brought their plates of enchiladas. When the waiter had refilled their water glasses and left, Will turned back to her with eyes she could only describe as kind. “You’ve been through a lot.”

  She spread her napkin in her lap. “Not as much as some.”

  Will took that in, nodding. “Not as much as some. But I’m sorry you—and Zoe—had to go through that kind of pain.”

  “I should have known better.” She picked up her knife and began to cut into the mass of beef and cheese on her plate. “He didn’t pass the eye test.”

  “The eye test?”

  “The eyes don’t lie. It’s what I tell Zoe all the time.” She forked a piece of the cheesy tortilla. “He never could look me directly in the eyes.”

  “What a coward.”

/>   She could come up with a dozen other accurate, suitable names, but she was tired of talking about her ex. “That’s enough about me.” She blew on her next bite to cool it off, grateful that the mountain in her past was already starting to fade behind them. “Tell me more about Melissa. Are you guys pretty close?”

  “Nah. I just bring her two giant cookies every week because I hate her guts.” Will said it with such a straight face she almost snorted her food.

  And just like that, they were back to laughing, annoying their table-neighbors, sharing bites of their dinner—and making Charlotte wonder why they hadn’t done this a long, long time ago.

  He hadn’t told her about Melissa. About the paralysis, about his regrets, about the night his selfish mistake almost destroyed one of the people he loved most in the world. He’d had the perfect window to disclose it all, but he couldn’t make himself put a damper on such a great evening.

  As he pulled his truck into the parking lot next to Charlotte’s apartment, he hoped that decision wouldn’t bite him later. He swung into an empty space. Julie’s car was parked in the spot next to them—or he could only assume it was Julie’s, judging by the pink fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror, The Dough Knot decal on the back windshield, and a bumper sticker that read My Cupcakes Could Beat Up Your Honor Student.

  “You and Julie are good friends?” He shifted the truck into park, not in a hurry to get out and end their night.

  “A lot more than that. We’re almost like business partners. She’s part time at the bakery and helps me out with Zoe when I need it.” Charlotte tucked her hair behind her ears, eyes bright even in the dimness of the truck cab. She always lit up when talking about something—or someone—important to her. Her theory was right—eyes don’t lie. “She’s my best friend.”

  “That’s great you get to work together.” He gestured toward the apartment. “So, did she give you a curfew?” He hoped midnight. Though he doubted Charlotte would turn into a pumpkin or however that fairy tale went. And the whole “left her shoe” behind thing was a genius way to get a guaranteed call back from the prince. Too bad he and Charlotte were in his truck tonight, or he might try to play the same card.

  Because right now, he couldn’t imagine waiting until next Tuesday at 5:40 to see Charlotte again.

  “She didn’t say.” Charlotte glanced at the clock on his dashboard. “It’s not quite ten o’clock yet.”

  “Then there’s plenty of time to ask you a question.” He leaned toward her, unable to resist the magnetic pull she had on him since the first moment he stepped into The Dough Knot and saw her in that cute little apron.

  “What question?” Her hand brushed his on the truck seat, and their fingers threaded together as if they’d had a lifetime of practice.

  “A very important one.” His eyes lowered to her lips, pink and glossy, and a hint of color flushed her cheeks to match.

  “Important how?” She lifted her chin a notch, eyes expectant. Waiting.

  He leaned an inch closer, his voice deepening. His heart started a stampede in his chest. “Important to me.”

  Her dark lashes fluttered shut.

  He shouldn’t do this. It was their first date. But it felt as if he’d known her his entire life. As if all those weeks of small talk at the bakery had counted as dates leading up to this moment. He had no intention of wasting this moment or attempting to recreate it later. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to live right now. With Charlotte.

  He pressed his lips against hers.

  She kissed him back, her grip on his hand tightening. He used it to pull her closer on the bench seat, then cupped his hand around her neck and deepened their kiss. Her free hand clutched the front of his shirt, wrinkling the green button-down he’d spent fifteen minutes ironing earlier that evening.

  He didn’t mind.

  She broke away first, turning to press her cheek against his and catch her breath. “That wasn’t a question.”

  It had most definitely been a statement. He grinned, rubbing his cheek against hers before pulling away to look her in the eyes. “I was just going to ask if I could kiss you.”

  She studied him a second. “No you weren’t. You had a real question, and you got sidetracked.”

  She’d nailed that one. His eyes couldn’t lie, either, apparently. He grinned back, wanting to kiss her again. He leaned forward to do just that, but she pressed her palm flat against his chest and held him off. “Wait a second. What’s the real question?”

  He stole a quick peck on her cheek anyway. “Brittany and Adam’s couple’s shower is coming up. And I want you to come.”

  “I have to, silly. I’m delivering the cookie cake, remember?”

  She was even more adorable when confused. He reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear before she could do it first. “I know. I mean, I want you to come with me. As my date.”

  It would completely throw Adam for a loop after their conversation the other day at the gym, but he’d explain ahead of time what had changed, if need be. His friend would be happy for him.

  Hopefully, Melissa would be too.

  His exuberance dimmed slightly. Melissa. He had put the guilt out of his head all this time, wrapped up in the joy of this . . . this thing developing with Charlotte.

  Would Melissa ever have this kind of relationship with someone? Ever feel this connection? Her fiancé had bailed on her. Her accident had been Will’s fault. It didn’t seem fair, or right, that he was free to do as he pleased while she remained so limited.

  He tried to shove the doubts away, but they wouldn’t quite budge. Maybe he was moving too fast. Maybe he should slow down and not get involved—

  Charlotte slid closer to him, craned her neck, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’d love to come with you.”

  He shoved the doubts away and returned her kiss.

  How could one man possibly be so talented? Will obviously possessed a variety of survival skills from his time in the service. He knew how to iron, could parallel park on a dime, and sang along to the radio better than the majority of the artists playing. On top of that, boy, could he kiss.

  And she hadn’t even tasted his bacon mac and cheese yet.

  Charlotte shot Will a sidelong glance as he helped her unload the snickerdoodle cookie cake onto the dessert table at the party, this time hosted by one of Adam’s family members. Sometimes that niggling voice in her head tried to convince her that the man standing beside her was too good to be true. Why would a really attractive, sweet, gentlemanly type of guy be interested in her? Somehow, she’d only ever attracted the party guys, the liars, the permanent frat boys with a case of Peter Pan syndrome—afraid to grow up.

  So far, Will Martin seemed like the real deal.

  And it terrified her.

  The other night after their date—and extended kissing session in the parking lot—she’d confided her uncertainties to Julie, who encouraged her to just sit back and enjoy the fairy tale.

  She couldn’t help but finish the unspoken cliché: enjoy the fairy tale . . . while it lasted.

  She tried to shake off the negativity and sense of foreboding. Things were finally going well in the love department. She had to quit being so negative and take Julie’s advice—enjoy the moment and quit expecting it to blow up in her face at any second.

  She set a dessert knife beside the cake. Julie was off duty tonight, babysitting Zoe for her again, so Will offered to help her with whatever she needed. She tried not to think about how awkward it felt arriving at the party as part of a hired service, and then staying as a guest. But Will had invited her, and he was the best man, so surely no one minded.

  She glanced down at her black dress pants and long-sleeved coral top. Hopefully this wasn’t another semiformal party where the other women would be in cocktail dresses. Not that she had one to wear even if it had been. Rarely—no, never—did the occasion arise for her to need one anymore.

  “Looks like you’re all set here.” Will
stood behind her and rubbed her shoulders. “If you move that cake one more time, I’m going to think you have a twitch.”

  “You’re right. I’ll try to stop.” She winced at how nervous she sounded. She automatically reached out to tweak something else on the table, then stopped herself and turned to face Will instead.

  “I’m glad you came.” He smiled down at her. “Everything looks great. And that cake is going to be the hit of the party.”

  “I’ll say.” Adam came into the kitchen, snagged a cherry tomato from the veggie tray at the next table, and popped it in his mouth. “Brittany’s already worried about not fitting in her wedding dress after all of The Dough Knot’s treats.”

  Charlotte winced. That was all she needed—Bridezilla to have another reason to attack. She eyed the veggie tray. Maybe she could put the cookie cake in the background and move the veggies—

  “Don’t even think about it.” Will tucked her hand through the crook of his arm and tugged her away from the table. He bent to whisper in her ear. “Quit worrying so much. You did your job—now just be my date.”

  His warm voice in her ear sent shivers down her spine. She relaxed against his arm. “Sounds good.”

  They joined the rest of the guests in the sunroom at the back of the house, which had been decorated in red, black, and white. Bold—like Brittany. If Julie was here, they’d be discussing what color themes they’d use in their own weddings one day. Charlotte had never allowed herself to think that far ahead. It seemed so out of reach. But here, now, holding on to Will’s arm . . . maybe purple. Purple and silver.

  She sat on the edge of an empty loveseat. Will sank into the space next to her, and seconds later, a thin blonde in a red sheath dress squeezed in next to him. “Will Martin? I wondered if that was you.” She shook her head, red lips parting. “It’s been years.”

  Charlotte glanced around, suddenly realizing there was a lot more red in the room than just the decorations. Every guest, even the guys, were wearing black, red, or some form of both. Brittany had paired red slacks with a black sparkly top. Adam wore a black polo, and the three women lining the couch opposite the sunroom wore a variety of black and red dresses.