Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
A pretty woman with curly blond hair greeted us with a wave and a friendly, “Ha-lloo!” before continuing a conversation about pie crust with a group of tourists. She wore a navy polka-dot dress under a frilly red apron that matched her ruby-red lipstick. I liked her style.
I wondered if she was the local Scott hired, and because I was nosy, I angled my head for a peek into the adjacent kitchen. I couldn’t see much, but it looked as if she was the only one working in the shop. I spied a few pies cooling on a marble ledge and breathed in the heady scent of sugar and spice and warm apples, then turned my attention to the display case filled with treats.
Cakes, scones, traditional biscuits, macarons, tarts…I was impressed.
The store itself was as charming as the website hinted. Black and white marble tiled flooring, a high ceiling with ornate molding, and a funky gemstone chandelier. The walls were a soft eucalyptus that complemented the mint logo and the—
“Theo?”
I whirled to the register, swallowing around the Sahara in my mouth at the sight of the yummy hunk carrying a tray of miniature fruit tarts.
Wow, he was dreamy. The combination of his slightly disheveled hair, sexy beard, twinkling eyes, and that apron did something to me. As in…I lost my voice.
And then I must have lost my mind. I stared at him blankly and opened my mouth, willing myself to say something suave and intelligent.
“Yes, hello. It’s me. Theo. From the plane.”
Or not.
Scott chuckled, setting the tray on the counter. A wide grin took over his handsome face as he moved toward me. “Yeah. Theo from the plane. I remember you.”
My face felt like a furnace. I lowered my eyes as if that would keep my blush in check. I doubt it worked.
“I just happened to be in the neighborhood,” I bluffed. “Your shop is great and your baked goods look positively delectable.”
“Thanks. Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“Cupcakes.”
His eyes crinkled in amusement. “I think you mean fairy cakes.”
We smiled as if we were old friends sharing an inside joke. And just like that, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
I nodded. “That’s right. Do you by chance have red velvet, vanilla, and lemon-drizzle fairy cakes? If so, I’d like a dozen, please.”
Scott snickered and pointed at a cake display. “No fairy cakes, but—”
“We usually only make them by special order,” the polka dot print-wearing bubbly blond intercepted. “Sorry, love. Would you like a slice of cake instead? Scott’s red velvet cake is positively lush!”
“I heard that somewhere.”
Oh, dear. I sounded wistful. Wistful and infatuated. Shoot. Pull it together, Theo.
The woman cast a curious look between Scott and me. “Do you know each other?”
“Yes.” Scott grinned, wiping his hands on his apron, his gaze still fixed on me.
“We’re airplane acquaintance friends,” I pronounced.
“Airplane acquaintance friends?” she repeated.
Now she was smiling too—that sort of indulgent smile that made me feel like an idiot even though I doubted that was her intent. It was just me being…me.
And I couldn’t seem to stop.
“Yes, hello. I’m Theodore Belden. Pleased to meet you.” I offered her my hand, gave it a good shake.
“I’m Becca. Lovely to meet you too.”
Then I turned to Scott, unthinking with my hand still outstretched.
He slipped his palm into mine and squeezed it. “We’ve met.”
“Ha! Right. I know. Um…” I took the opportunity to admire his bulging biceps threatening the integrity of his red plaid shirt, and unfortunately…kept talking. “We were on the same flight to London last week. It was a long bumpy flight, but we made it. And this is Giles. He’s nice and he’s moving to San Francisco next year.”
Okay, that was a mixed-up jumble of sheer nonsense. Thankfully, Becca came to my rescue.
“Oh, I love San Francisco! Scott and I were there three years ago last November and—” She craned her neck when the door chimed. “We have customers. May I cut you a slice of red velvet while they have a look about?”
Giles raised his hand. “Yes, please.”
“Come this way,” she instructed with a winning smile.
I waited for Giles and Becca to move ahead, hoping for another shot at suave—or at least not socially inept while I had Scott to myself.
I was completely unprepared, though. I hadn’t thought I’d see him again. This was supposed to be a closure field trip, not a painful accidental meeting sans script. What was I going to say to the man who’d stroked me to oblivion in a bathroom stall?
Think, Theo, think.
“I love macarons,” I blurt-yelled, smudging my forefinger on the glass.
Oh, my…wow.
“Let’s hook you up. One of each flavor,” Scott volunteered, pulling a small white bakery box from under the counter.
“No, no. That’s not necessary.”
“I insist.” He twirled a pair of tongs between his fingers and carefully began stacking macarons like dominos in the box. “It’s good to see you.”