Take the Cake Read online

  “Probably. I know I’d never find anyone as modest as you,” Kate replied.

  “Well, there’s always Thomas,” Wren sassed back.

  “Oh, please, that man could make a sequin look shy.”

  Wren blinked at her. “Are you saying that I can’t?”

  Kate looked at Emily. “Help,” she peeped.

  Emily snuffled with laughter. “Uh-uh, you’re on your own.”

  The three women began to laugh.

  Michael glanced up to see the source of the laughter and smiled. She was looking better now, and he was glad for it. The men bantered their way through lunch, and then David checked his watch and began to excuse himself.

  “I’ve gotta get back, Michael, but listen, how about we do this again? Don’t be such a stranger next time.”

  “Sure,” Michael replied, pleased that he had been able to rekindle a friendship that he had let cool to embers. “How’s next week for you?”

  “I’ll check, but off the top of my head, it sounds good,” David said, swigging back his coffee.

  The two men stood up and shook hands and gave each other another hug for good measure. David turned to leave, and then turned back as if on an afterthought, “And listen, if you want to come back here, that’s fine with me.”

  “I thought it might be.” Michael grinned.

  David winked again and left. Michael watched him go and settled back into his seat with a sigh. He didn’t want to go just yet. If he was going to be honest with himself, he wanted to see her. He wanted to see Kate. One of the other women appeared with a bagel on a plate and set it down on the table beside him, giving him a shy smile and disappearing behind the counter again. He looked at the plate in puzzlement.

  ~~~

  “Kate, why am I looking at you right now?” Wren said in an arch tone.

  “Because I’m the best boss you’ve ever had and you can’t help but gaze at me with adoration from time to time?”

  “Well, there is that,” Wren conceded. “But I’m wondering why you’re still here behind the counter, when there’s a perfectly good bagel on a plate for you, sitting on a table over there.” She pointed it out for emphasis.

  “Okay, I’m going.”

  “You’re going to eat that and relax, and I don’t want to see you back here until you’ve had a coffee as well.”

  “Yes’m,” Kate replied, snapping off a mock salute and walking toward the table.

  Wren and Emily watched her go.

  “That’s not very subtle,” offered Emily after a moment’s pause.

  “Subtlety wastes time,” Wren replied. “And it’d be lost on those two anyway.”

  Kate sank into her chair and looked at the bagel: smoked salmon again, her all-time favorite. It never failed to amaze her how well Wren looked after her. She bit into it and chewed slowly, enjoying the flavors of the salmon, cream cheese, and capers. She was on her second mouthful when she glanced to her right and saw a familiar pair of hazel eyes. She chewed and swallowed before she spoke.

  “Hello again,” she said.

  “Hello.” He gave her a gentle smile, making her blink. He seemed restrained for some reason, watching her as if trying to gauge her reaction.

  “How’s your day?” she asked, taking another bite.

  “It’s not bad.” He shrugged. “I just caught up with a friend I haven’t seen for a long time.” He considered it for a moment. “It was good.”

  “Then I’m happy for you.”

  “Just like that? You’re happy for me?” His eyebrows went up.

  “Why not?”

  “I—” he began, then stopped. “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  He watched her in silence, wishing he could think of something to say. He’d had words for David, but David he had known since childhood. This woman was different, and he didn’t know what to say that would please her, and he found suddenly that he wanted to please her very much.

  She worked her way through her lunch, exchanging greetings with other customers as they entered, enjoying brief conversations here and there. He admired the easy way she seemed to relate to everyone. After a while, she glanced at him again and he shifted in his seat, leaning forward a little.

  “So, uh … I don’t want to pry,” he began awkwardly, cursing his clumsy words. It was a miracle he’d managed to get published. She nodded for him to continue, and he felt a rush of relief. “The cupcake in the window …” He gestured toward the display, and then watched as her open expression became one of polite reserve for a moment.

  “It’s for my father,” she said in a soft voice, looking down into her cup.

  “Listen, just tell me to shut up if I’m …” he babbled. He never babbled. What was it with this woman?

  “No, it’s okay.” She reached out a hand to lay it over his as it rested on the table. Her hand felt warm and dry and, he realized, entirely comfortable. “It’s a vanilla butter cupcake, Jack—my dad,” she nodded toward the photo, “used to love them. He always used to tease me about opening a cupcake shop one day, because I used to make so many.”

  This time it was Michael who nodded for her to continue.

  “I lost him when I was nineteen,” she said quietly.

  “I’m sorry—” Michael began automatically.

  Kate waved him off. “It’s not your fault.” She smiled.

  “So …” He paused. “What happened?”

  “Car accident,” she said. “I was driving, and we got blindsided by a van. My head got hit pretty hard, and Jack didn’t make it.”

  Michael gazed at her, then without thinking, placed his hand over hers, cupping her hand between his, rubbing his thumb in reassuring circles in an unconscious pattern.

  She bit her lip. “So the next thing I know, I’m waking up in the hospital, and my big brother is telling me that Jack was gone, and this …” She lifted her free hand to sweep her hair away from her forehead, revealing a long white scar that ran along her hairline down to her left temple.

  Michael winced. The two of them sat in a companionable silence before Kate gave a small start.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized in a rush. “I didn’t mean to bring you down with that tale of woe—”

  “Don’t be sorry. I appreciate you telling me,” Michael replied. “It’s okay. Really.”

  Kate looked flustered. “I really am sorry, you know. I don’t usually go around telling people stuff like that.”

  “Then I’m flattered that you did,” Michael admitted, realizing that it was the truth. The words were coming to him more easily now. “I don’t often get to see you for a chat; you seem pretty busy.”

  Kate laughed at that. “I know, which is why Wren has suddenly started a campaign for me to start taking a lunch break.”

  “I’ll have to time my visits more carefully then,” Michael replied, feeling emboldened by the feel of the hand that she seemed content to leave resting between his.

  “Well, I’ll try to make time to talk to you more in the future too,” she teased. “And then the girls will think that you’re a special customer.”

  “So are you,” Michael replied, the words suddenly appearing on his tongue unbidden.

  “I’m what?”

  “Special,” he said, then, greatly daring, reached out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

  Wren watched them from her spot behind the coffee machine, holding her breath as Galahad reached out to touch Kate’s hair. Kate hadn’t withdrawn, and he was still holding her hand. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

  Then there was the matter of Emily.

  And there was also the matter of Galahad’s friend. He was going to be another challenge entirely, but that was okay. In fact, it was better than okay; she liked a challenge.

  Wren’s small smile widened into a satisfied grin. This was going to be fun.

  Chapter 5

  Second Mouse Satisfaction

  Michael and Kate were still ta
lking quietly at the table when a shadow fell across the doorway of the shop. Kate looked up and did a double take, slipping away from the table—and Michael’s hands—with a cry of delight.

  “Brother Bear!”

  Michael sat watching as Kate launched herself at a man who took two laughing strides toward her before gathering her up into a hug that swept her feet off the floor. Kate cupped his face in her small hands to cover his cheeks with kisses. Her small frame in his arms was apparently no effort.

  Michael had seen enough. He gathered his papers and waited for them to pass before he made his way out of the store.

  Wren watched him go, shaking her head. “Silly man,” she said to herself.

  Once outside, Michael walked on, devouring the pavement with long strides, his hands jammed in his jeans pockets, his chin all but tucked into his chest, deep in thought. What had seemed a perfect moment and been broken by the stranger’s loud arrival. More importantly, Michael’s cautious happiness had evaporated as Kate had torn herself away from his gentle grasp. The way she had thrown herself at the stranger spoke of a long and easy intimacy. Of course she was taken; no one that attractive in New York could be single.

  And yet …

  Michael stopped short, making the person walking behind him almost trip and have to step around him. Lost in his own thoughts, he was oblivious to the filthy look he received. Kate had called the stranger Brother Bear … and she’d mentioned having an older brother when she had told him about the accident.

  His writer’s memory clicked into gear, and the clues began to fall into place: the framed picture in the store window, Kate’s melancholy state, their quiet conversation, and then the arrival of the person she’d called Brother Bear who had brown eyes just like Kate’s. Just like hers because they were related. Michael clenched his hands into fists and sighed; he’d been a fool. He could have said something, asked her something, anything. If only he could think of something to say, but it was too late to go back now. He walked on, thinking about the touch of her hair, the warmth of her skin, and the feel of her hand in his. He’d visit the bakery again soon, to set things to rights.

  ~~~

  “It’s so good to see you!”

  Kate had stopped kissing her brother’s cheeks and had instead wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him and wiggling to be set down.

  “Easy there, Babycake,” he said in a laughing voice as he let Kate down, then looked across to the counter to see Wren grinning at him, and his face lit up with glee. “Pocket Rocket!”

  “Oh, no,” Wren muttered, her grin faltering as she began backing away from the counter. Paul rounded it, moving toward her with surprising grace despite his immense size as she looked around for a convenient means of escape. She feinted to her left, but he stepped to the right, neatly blocking her access to the kitchen, shaking his head as he began to laugh in anticipation. Wren sighed and straightened up from her crouching stance. “Oh, go on then, you big lug.” She opened her arms in surrender.

  He whooped and picked her up, giving her a hug that sent the breath out of her in a whoosh before dipping her back onto her feet. Wren staggered back a pace then laughed as she pushed at his chest to get him to move. “Jesus, Paul, and I thought you were the size of a house the last time you were in.”

  Emily, who had appeared in the kitchen doorway to investigate the ruckus, shrank back when Paul rounded on her.

  “And who do we have here?”

  “Easy, Bear. Play gentle,” warned Wren. “This is Emily.”

  Paul grinned at Emily, who offered him a shy smile in return as he reached out and shook her hand.

  “Great to meet you, Emily. I’m Kate’s brother, Paul.”

  “You’re related?” Emily’s confusion was plain to see as she looked from Kate to Paul and then back again. Paul towered over Kate, and his scruffy jeans and tight-fitting T-shirt only served to emphasize his tanned and very muscular arms.

  “Tell me about it.” Kate smirked. “Mom used to say that after birthing him,” she said, jerking a thumb toward Paul, “she was pretty gun-shy for a while, so I’m lucky to be standing here.”

  “Yeah, right,” scoffed Paul. “As if Mom and Dad could keep their hands off each other.”

  “Eww, parental sex lives, too much information.” Wren winced, making Kate laugh.

  “Well, they’re not here to deny it,” Paul said. “Speaking of which …” He moved toward Kate again and draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in to kiss her temple. “I saw the window display. Jack would’ve loved it.”

  Emily, who had been filled in on the significance of the day by Wren, gave a nod of understanding. “How come you guys refer to your dad by his first name?”

  Kate nodded at Paul, who began to explain. “After Mom died, Dad wanted to take us on a holiday to get away, so we came to New York. One day we were in the Natural History Museum and lost sight of Jack. So the two of us were walking along, hand in hand, calling out ‘Dad … Dad …’ and we could see him in the distance, but he wasn’t responding, then—”

  Kate cut in, “Then Bear here called out ‘Jack,’ and Jack’s head snapped around and he came straight back to where we were.”

  Wren smiled. She’d heard this story before, but she loved the way Kate’s and Paul’s faces glowed whenever they recounted it.

  Paul continued, “And when he caught up to us, we said, ‘Didn’t you hear us calling?’ And he said, ‘Sure, but there are heaps of dads here. You could have been calling to any one of them.’ So from then on, he was Jack.”

  Emily laughed. “That’s so cute!”

  Kate smiled. “That’s so Jack.”

  “And you’ve honored him well, sis,” Paul said with a grin.

  “But how come you’re not in the photo?” Emily asked.

  Paul smiled. “Who do you think was holding the camera? I’m still there.”

  “You’re always there,” Kate replied with a gentle smile.

  “Yep, you might not see me, but I’ll always be with you, Kat.”

  ~~~

  Michael peered around in the gloom, smiling when David raised his hand to give a languid wave. He worked his way through the Friday afternoon crowd and saw that David had somehow managed to get a bar table and already had a beer and a shot waiting for Michael’s arrival.

  “Forrester,” David greeted him with a lazy nod.

  “Watson,” Michael replied, picking up the shot and raising an eyebrow at David.

  “Down the hatch,” David said.

  Michael threw the shot back, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and quickly took a sip of beer. “I’m glad you called,” he said as he set his glass down.

  Michael watched his friend cast a happy gaze around the patrons of the bar, a good proportion of which were women, then thought about his own productivity for the day. He’d gone home from the bakery and, after much thought over a few hours, had written a sentence. Not much to show for the day. Certainly nothing to a journalist with deadlines like David, but given Michael’s productivity of late, it was notable. David had called him earlier that evening and invited him out for a drink, and Michael had accepted. It seemed a better option than staring at his computer all evening.

  David gave a happy shrug. “Deadlines are met, so my weekend has started. Let’s play, Forrester.”

  “You’re on,” Michael muttered as he picked up his beer again. He was taking another sip when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He fumbled for it and answered, one hand pressed over his other ear so that he could hear better. “Hello?”

  “Hey, son, sounds like you’re having fun somewhere.”

  “Dad.” Michael couldn’t stop the happy grin on his face. “How are you?”

  “Doing good at this end, but we miss you. Your mother wanted me to call. What are you up to this weekend?”

  That was, Michael knew, code for “We both miss you. Come home.”

  “I’m having a drink with David tonight. 
… Yeah, the Watson kid.” He grinned as David raised his glass in acknowledgment. “So maybe Sunday?”

  “That sounds great. Listen, I won’t keep you on the phone, then, but please come over on Sunday. I know your mother will jump at the chance to feed you.”

  “You won’t hear me arguing,” Michael replied. “See you on Sunday, Dad. Love you.”

  “Will do. Love you too, son. I think your mother’s cooking already.”

  ~~~

  “You mean I don’t get a home cooked meal?” Paul said, his eyes pleading. “C’mon, Kat, I’m starved.”

  Paul had spent the afternoon hanging out at the bakery, making the girls laugh and performing some quality control checks on the cupcake supply. As it turned out, his visit had been well timed in more ways than one. Kate had signed for a delivery of ingredients and had immediately pressed Paul into service with the heavy lifting. He had helped Kate clean up the store after closing and now wanted to do something for dinner. Kate’s first instinct had been to suggest take-out, much to Paul’s disappointment.

  “Oh, come on, then,” she said, sighing and picking up her bag. “But I’ve got to stop for a few things on the way home.”

  “No problem,” Paul replied with a grin.

  “And you’re paying.”

  “Fair call,” he agreed.

  They stopped at a grocery store on the way home, and Kate picked up a few things, after sending Paul to a liquor store further down the block to get a bottle of wine to enjoy with their meal.

  Once home, Kate kicked off her shoes and changed shirts, then busied herself making dinner while Paul uncorked a bottle of white and kept up a steady stream of conversation. She directed Paul to “make the table look pretty,” and after some searching, he had produced a tablecloth and some candles. Soon they were sitting down to a meal of creamy, chicken and asparagus pasta with crusty garlic bread.

  Paul raised his wine glass. “To Jack and Gwen,” he said.

  Kate chinked her glass against his. “Amen.”

  “Amen,” he replied, and then got down to the business of the meal.

  A while later, Paul used the last of the garlic bread to clean up the sauce in his bowl, having already gone back for seconds. He leaned back in his chair and gave a sigh that was replete with satisfaction.