Part 11 (1/2)
”Say 'please,' and tell him about our tradition,” Kim suggested.
”Offer him money.” Rachel dug through her dilapidated Gucci knockoff purse and withdrew a ten-dollar bill. ”And let him know we're celebrating your sister's birthday.”
”You did promise me a cupcake for my birthday,” Kim said with an impish grin. ”Besides, the guy doesn't look like he plans to eat it. He hasn't even glanced at the cupcake since the old woman came in and delivered the box.”
Andi tucked a loose strand of blond hair behind her ear and drew in a deep breath. She wasn't used to taking food from anyone. Usually she was on the other end-giving it away. Her fault. She didn't plan ahead.
Why couldn't any of the businesses here be open twenty-four hours like in Portland? Out of the two dozen eclectic cafes and restaurants along the Astoria waterfront promising to satisfy customers' palates, shouldn't at least one cater to late-night customers like herself? No, they all shut down at 10:30, some earlier, as if they knew she was coming. That's what she got for living in a small town. Antic.i.p.ation but no cake.
However, she was determined not to let her younger sister down. She'd promised Kim a cupcake for her twenty-sixth birthday, and she'd try her best to procure one, even if it meant making a fool of herself.
Andi shot her ever-popular friend Rachel a wry look. ”You know you're better at this than I am.”
Rachel grinned. ”You're going to have to start interacting with the opposite s.e.x again sometime.”
Maybe. But not on the personal level, Rachel's tone suggested. Andi's divorce the previous year had left behind a bitter aftertaste no amount of sweet talk could dissolve.
Pus.h.i.+ng back her chair, she stood up. ”Tonight, all I want is the cupcake.”
ANDI HAD TAKEN only a few steps when the man with the bakery box turned his head and smiled.
He probably thought she was coming over, hoping to find a date. Why shouldn't he? The Captain's Port was filled with people looking for a connection, if not for a lifetime, then at least for the time they shared within the friendly confines of the restaurant's casual, communal atmosphere.
She hesitated midstep before continuing forward. Heat rushed into her cheeks. Dressed in jeans and a navy blue tie and sport jacket, he was even better looking than she'd first thought. Thirtyish. Light brown hair, fair skin, sparkling chocolate brown eyes, oh my. He could have his pick of any woman in the place. Any woman in Astoria, Oregon.
”Hi,” he said.
Andi swallowed the nervous tension gathering at the back of her throat and managed a smile in return. ”Hi. I'm sorry to bother you, but it's my sister's birthday, and I promised her a cupcake.” She nodded toward the see-through box and waved the ten-dollar bill. ”Is there any chance I can persuade you to sell the one you have here?”
His eyebrows shot up. ”You want my cupcake?”
”I meant to bake a batch this afternoon,” she gushed, her words tumbling over themselves, ”but I ended up packing spring break lunches for the needy kids in the school district. Have you heard of the Kids' Coalition backpack program?”
He nodded. ”Yes, I think the Astoria Sun featured the free lunch backpack program on the community page a few weeks ago.”
”I'm a volunteer,” she explained. ”And after I finished, I tried to buy a cupcake but didn't get to the store in time. I've never let my sister down before, and I feel awful.”
The new addition to her list of top ten dream-worthy males leaned back in his chair and pressed his lips together, as if considering her request, then shook his head. ”I'd love to help you, but-”
”Please.” Andi gasped, appalled she'd stooped to begging. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. ”I understand if you can't, it's just that my sister, Kim, my friend Rachel, and I have a tradition.”
”What kind of tradition?”
Andi pointed to their table, and Kim and Rachel smiled and waved. ”Our birthdays are s.p.a.ced four months apart, so we split a celebration cupcake three ways and set new goals for ourselves from one person's birthday to the next. It's easier than trying to set goals for an entire year.”
”I don't suppose you could set your goals without the cupcake?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with amus.e.m.e.nt.
Andi smiled. ”It wouldn't be the same.”
”If the cupcake were mine to give, it would be yours. But this particular cupcake was delivered for a research project I have at work.”
”Wish I had your job.” Andi dropped into the chair he pulled out for her and placed her hands flat on the table. ”What if I told you it's been a really tough day, tough week, tough year?”
He pushed his empty coffee cup aside, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward. ”I'd say I could argue the same.”
”But did you spend the last three hours running all over town looking for a cupcake?” she challenged, playfully mimicking Rachel's flirtatious, sing-song tone. ”The Pig 'n Pancake was closed, along with the supermarket, and the cafe down the street said they don't even sell them anymore. And then . . . I met you.”
He covered her left hand with his own, and although the unexpected contact made her jump, she ignored the impulse to pull her fingers away. His gesture seemed more an act of compa.s.sion than anything else, and, frankly, she liked the feel of his firm yet gentle touch.
”What if I told you,” he said, leaning forward, ”that I've traveled five hundred and seventy miles and waited sixty-three days to taste this one cupcake?”
Andi leaned toward him as well. ”I'd say that's ridiculous. There's no cupcake in Astoria worth all that trouble.”
”What if this particular cupcake isn't from Astoria?”
”No?” She took another look at the box but didn't see a label. ”Where's it from?”
”Hollande's French Pastry Parlor outside of Portland.”
”What if I told you I would send you a dozen Hollande's cupcakes tomorrow?”
”What if I told you,” he said, stopping to release a deep, throaty chuckle, ”this is the last morsel of food I have to eat before I starve to death today?”
Andi laughed. ”I'd say that's a good way to go. Or I could invite you to my place and cook you dinner.”
Her heart stopped, stunned by her own words, then rebooted a moment later when their gazes locked, and he smiled at her.
”You can have the cupcake on one condition.”
”Which is?”
Giving her a wink, he slid the bakery box toward her. Then he leaned his head in close and whispered in her ear.
An Excerpt from THE CUPCAKE DIARIES: TASTE OF ROMANCE.
All I really need is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt!
-Charles Schulz FOCUS, KIM REPRIMANDED herself. Keep to the task at hand and stop eavesdropping on other people's conversations.
But she didn't need to hear the crack of the teenage boy's heart to feel his pain. Or to remember the last time she'd heard the wretched words ”I'm leaving” spoken to her.
She tried to ignore the couple as she picked up the pastry bag filled with pink icing and continued to decorate the tops of the strawberry preserve cupcakes. However, the discussion between the high school boy and what she a.s.sumed to be his girlfriend kept her attentive.
”When will I see you again?” he asked.
Kim glanced toward them, leaned closer, and held her breath.