He nodded, appreciating her thoughtfulness. But he knew that was the type of woman that Paisley was. “Can I help?”
She tipped her head to the side. “How are you at decorating cookies?”
“Never done it before but that’s never stopped me,” he said smoothly. “Lead on.”
She didn’t quibble, which told him that she didn’t have the time and could use more hands. When he stepped out of the coffee shop, he noticed she had Lyle, Delaney and Olive waiting in the car. He opened the door to the back seat for Paisley and then got in the front passenger seat next to the driver.
Lyle didn’t say a word, just put the car in gear, and drove them to their location. There wasn’t any conversation in the back seat, but did hear the tapping of nails on the touch screens and guessed that they were texting about him.
He turned his head and met Olive’s steady gaze. Since Delaney had previously given him the finger, it was safe to assume he wasn’t their favorite person.
“Hello, ladies, I’m sure you’ve heard that I’m not really Jack.”
“Yeah, we heard,” Delaney said in a clipped tone.
“I’m sorry for deceiving you. I was in town for a role and I needed to keep it quiet.”
“We get it,” Olive said. “We have NDAs that we have to sign all the time. It’s the hurting our friend by lying to her while you were sleeping with her that’s harder to forgive.”
“Olive,” Paisley hissed.
“Go, girl!” Delaney said.
“I understand where you both are coming from. I’ve apologized to her as well. But for today, can we all put that aside and help with Paisley’s emergency?”
Olive, who had always been nice to him, nodded. “We all make mistakes and owning them is important.”
“I agree.”
Delaney sort of huffed and pulled out her phone, looking down at it and ignoring the rest of them.
“So what’s the cookie emergency?” he asked.
“Mrs. B, an elderly friend of mine who is decorating cookies for children who are coming here for her group carol tonight, had some cancellations due to flu.”
“How many cookies are we talking about?” he asked, deciding to focus on Paisley. She was, after all, the reason he was in this car and going to decorate cookies. He had never done that before. Not even for a role.
“Probably close to five hundred,” she said.
That sounded like a ridiculous number of cookies. “Forcaroling?”
“Yes. They work with after-school programs for kids whose parents aren’t home in the afternoon. Mrs. B and her group also play secret Santa for the kids. This is one of the many events they hold,” Paisley informed him, as Lyle pulled into the underground parking garage of a high-rise apartment building. The driver got out and held the door for Delaney and Sean did the same for Paisley. Olive got out on Delaney’s side.
He offered Paisley his hand, which she took, and when their eyes met he felt that sizzle of awareness between them. “Thanks for letting me come along.”
She smiled up at him. “Thanks for wanting to.”
She tugged her hand free and he closed the door, following her into the building. They went to the third-floor apartment of Mrs. B, and Sean learned her full name was Mildred Buchner. She’d been a teacher for forty years before she retired. She had hair that reminded him of Lucille Ball’s, an easy smile and a kind of booming laugh that made everyone take notice.
She took one look at him with a practiced eye. “How many cookies have you decorated?”
“None,” he reported.
“Then you go over there with Candace on the snowmen. One big swipe of white frosting seems about your skill level.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, going over to a card table that was set up with large pots of white frosting and stacks of cut-out snowmen-out sugar cookies. “Hi. I’m Sean.”
“Candace,” the elderly woman returned. “I see you’ve been delegated to the talentless table.”