“What are you doing here?” I snap. His eyebrows lower in that glowering way of his, but I’m not deterred. “Please tell me Stella didn’t send you.”
“Stella didn’t send me,” he says, frowning. “And is that any way to greet a potential client?”
My mouth pops open. “Potential client?”
“I made an appointment. With that handy appointment page you have on your website.”
Wait. What? “You’re my three o’clock?” Oh my God. He used a fake name. I glance at my planner, where I wrote Nancy and Bob, 3 p.m.
Nancy and Bob McCloud. Tucker’s parents.
I’m going to kill him.
Tucker nods in response to my question. Rubs his hand along his jaw, and I swear I can hear the rasping of his whiskers from here. Not that there’s a huge amount of distance between us. Remember what I said? About Cake Nation being small and cozy?
Yeah. Tucker is anything but small, and he feels extra close. In fact, his mere presence is eating up all the space, and his overwhelming gravitational pull is tugging me in. Pulling me closer.
I try my best to resist, but it’s difficult. Without thought, I step closer, until I’m standing directly in front of him, and I can smell his delicious, intoxicating scent.
For a moment, I sort of forget about everything, and just enjoy the fact that Tucker is here. With me. In my place of business—the place of my dreams.
But then I remember that he is my next potential client and I need to remain strictly business.
“Why did you make an appointment using your parents’ names?” I ask him.
“I need an anniversary cake.” He shrugs. “And I knew you wouldn’t meet with me if I said your appointment was with me.”
He’s right about that, but I’m still a little confused. I blame Tucker. For existing. “Who do you need the anniversary cake for?”
“My parents. Bob and Nancy.” He smiles, and it completely transforms his face. His smile is adorable, reminding me of a time when he was young and sweet and all mine. “They’re going to celebrate their fortieth not this weekend but the next one.”
“Oh. Forty years? How wonderful.” I blink at him, then turn and sit on the pale blue velvet sofa, grabbing my planner and flipping it open. “Unfortunately, I have two weddings that weekend.”
I’m trying my best to sound extra disappointed, but truthfully, I’m relieved that I’m not available to make and deliver that cake. The more distance between Tucker and me, the better. I don’t want him back in my life.
He complicates things. Just by existing.
“Are those two weddings on Saturday?” he asks just before he settles on the sofa.
Right next to me.
He’s so close, I can feel his body heat radiating, drawing me in.
“Yes. Saturday.” I nod, feeling like a dummy. I wish he’d chosen the chair. He’s so close.
Too close.
“I know this is sort of last minute, but Georgia was talking about how great your cakes are, and Stella said we should ask if you’re available. Luckily for us, their anniversary party is on Sunday. Oh, and it’s a surprise, so you can’t tell anyone, especially Mom and Dad.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and turns his head, contemplating me. “Whatcha think? You up for it?”
My logical brain screams, No! Don’t do it! Tell him to get the hell out of your business—and your life!
But my heart…
And my body…
“Sure. I’ll do it,” I say with a tremulous smile.
Yeah. My heart and body have different ideas.