Chapter Fifteen
Over the next weeks Callie received a couple more orders for cakes—a small wedding cake and a birthday cake. Also, she had to make Cash’s mom’s birthday cake. She had no idea what he was looking for, so she’d have to give him a call.
No, she was not making up reasons to call him again. This was legit. It was business. He’d asked her to do it. Also to plan the menu with the people at Interlude for the party. And she wanted to see if he’d heard from his dad.
He’d obviously been rattled by the news. After twelve years of not hearing a word from the jerk, it was understandable. She could tell how painful it had been for him to be abandoned by his father, although he was pretty good at hiding it. Enough time had passed that he was cool about things, but she supposed no kid would ever really get over that. So it was pretty freaky that the very next day he’d heard that shocker.
Intense curiosity burned inside her at the reasons for his father’s contact. He said his son wanted to meet his older brother and sister. That could easily be true. But why now? Was Cash’s dad just trying to appease his younger son? And what about Ginnie? How would she feel about this?
Now Callie was curious about Cash’s little sister. Ginnie was quite a bit younger than him. That was probably why she’d never met her. When Callie had graduated from college and moved back to Houston, Ginnie’d been away at Texas A&M. It sounded like they had a good relationship when he’d talked to her on the phone on Saturday. She’d seen that protective streak of Cash’s in evidence when he’d asked about Ginnie’s new boyfriend.
That protective streak that had ended in a bar brawl at the Wild Turkey.
Her heart turned over in her chest, remembering that. He was crazy, but he’d been looking out for her. She didn’t need looking after, but damn, she had to admit she’d liked it.
She consulted with the clients on the two cake orders, sketching out ideas, as well as more of the necessary evil business stuff that had to be done. The baking was the fun part of the business, but she was well aware she’d have to be businesslike about this if she wanted to succeed.
She and Kristy talked and emailed back and forth a few times, tweaking the website, getting her email running and business cards made. When a third order came in, she started laughing.
Damn. She was really going to do this.
One evening later that week, she had an experiment in the oven—cookie shots. She’d shaped the cookie dough into small cups and planned to fill them with liqueur-flavored buttercream. Hopefully it would work out okay. Then her doorbell rang. She answered the door, wiping her hands on the big white apron she’d taken to wearing.
“Daddy!” Her gaze went past him to see Beau standing behind him. Her stomach dropped. “And Beau. What a surprise.” She kept her tone cordial, but inside, her heart galloped like a horse at Sam Houston Race Park. What the hell were they doing here together?
They stepped into the house. Daddy kissed her cheek, and she greeted Beau with a cool smile.
“Feels fucking weird ringing my own doorbell,” Beau muttered.
“It’s not your house,” she snapped back. “It’s my house, remember?” Then she pulled in a deep breath, trying to stay calm. She curled her fingers into her palms.
“We didn’t come here to rehash the divorce settlement,” Daddy said. “We came to talk to you about your crazy idea to open a bakery.”
Callie sighed. “Mama told you.”
“Of course she told me. Callie, what in blazes do you think you know about running a business?”
She tried not to flinch, even though it felt like she’d been slapped. “Here we go again.” She turned her back on them and hastened into the kitchen to check her cookies, using the moment to fight for composure and blink back tears that threatened. She peered into one of the ovens. Still a minute or so left. She straightened and faced the two men who’d followed her.
Beau looked around. “Wow, this place is a mess.”
Another slap. Her chest tightened, but she lifted her chin. “Again, not your house. And I’m working.”
“Callie,” Daddy said. “I know you have your trust fund and you can do what you want with it, but I don’t want to see you throwing your money away.”
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I assume you’re using your trust fund to finance this crazy business idea.”
“No.” She shook her head and crossed her arms to hide her shaking hands. “I’m not. Not right away, anyway.”
Daddy stared at her. She ignored Beau, who was peering into a box of sugar flowers she was working on for the next wedding cake.
“You’re not?” Daddy crossed his arms, too, frowning.
“I’m not. I mean, I may need to use a little. But I’m just starting out, and I have most of what I need. I’ve had a few small business expenses, and I need to buy supplies, but that’s not like millions of dollars or something.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m setting up online, and I’ll see how it goes. If I get busy enough, I’d love to find a little retail space where I could sell my baked goods.”
Her father shook his head regretfully. “What’s happened to you, Callie? You used to be such a sweet, obedient girl.”
For a few seconds, she couldn’t speak. Pressure built in her chest, squeezing the air out her lungs. Yes, she used to be a sweet, obedient little girl, because she thought that was how she could win her parents’ love and affection. Now, she wanted to cry for the girl she’d been, trying so hard to be good. Just wanting to be loved for more than her good manners and social standing and suitable husband.
No more. She wasn’t that girl anymore.
She fought to keep her voice steady. “I used to be what you wanted me to be, Daddy. But that wasn’t really me, and I wasn’t really happy. Now I’m doing what I want, and I’m having fun.” She swallowed. “I’m accomplishing something, something all my own.”
“You upset your mama the other day, with your tattoo—”
“What?” Beau’s head jerked around. “Tattoo?”
Callie rolled her eyes.
“And missing church,” Daddy continued. “And then starting this business without even telling us.”
Now her entire body trembled with pent-up frustration. She’d never in her life gone against her parents’ wishes. She’d always tried to please them, hoping and hoping for their approval and affection. The fact that they were disappointed in her yet again might have been enough to crumble her at one point in her life. But where had trying to please them ever gotten her?
She’d thought she loved Beau. But, looking back, she’d never been truly happy in their marriage. She’d been doing what her parents wanted, and what Beau wanted—putting on a smiling face, going to her fun little job, doing charity work, hosting dinners, charming clients. It had felt empty and meaningless—well, other than the charity work; she enjoyed the work she did with the Make-A-Wish Foundation—and when Beau had cheated on her, it had nearly destroyed what little self-esteem she had.
She wasn’t going to let them continue to do that to her.
“You got a tattoo?” Beau asked.
“Yes. But never mind that.”
Beau huffed. “You’re going to run the business out of here?”
“Yes.” She gave a firm nod. “That’s the plan.”
“You can’t do that.”
Callie crossed over to the corner where she’d set up a small office area, hoping her unsteady legs would support her. She picked up her business license, strode back to Beau, and slapped it into his hand. “Oh yes I can.”
He glanced at the paper, then stared at her. “You’re serious about this.”
Daddy moved to Beau’s side and took the license to study it.
“Of course I am.” She shook her head. “Would you like to see my business plan, Daddy? I told Mama you could review it if you wanted.” She picked up a folder and handed it to her father. She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, trying to appear confident as he flipped through the pages.
After a moment, Daddy lifted his gaze. His thick eyebrows rose, and he nodded slowly. “I’m impressed.”
Callie’s breath stuck in her throat for a moment. She’d never heard that from her father. But this wasn’t about impressing him. This was about doing what she loved to do. “And apparently surprised,” she said. “Thanks for thinking so highly of me.”
“Callie.” Daddy actually looked chagrined.
She sighed. “Thank you, Daddy.” Her timer dinged. “If you’ll excuse me. I have work to do.”
She moved to the oven to remove the cookie cups, giving them her back, biting down hard on her bottom lip, her eyes stinging.
When she turned to set the tray on a cooling rack, they were still standing there watching her.
“I have clients already, and I’m getting a lot of positive feedback about my work,” she said. “I’m proud of what I’m doing, and if you aren’t…then please, just go, and leave me alone.”
“Callie, don’t be so dramatic,” Beau said.
Dramatic? What the hell? Spots flashed in front of her vision, and she opened her mouth. Before she could say anything, Daddy surprisingly spoke up. “Those cookies smell amazing.”
She closed her eyes briefly, then started lifting her cookie cups from the baking tray to another rack. “Thanks, Daddy.” She had to focus on being gentle as they were still warm and soft.
“Okay.” Daddy glanced at Beau. “I’m leaving. See you this weekend at the country club, Beau.”
“Yeah. Good night, Joshua.”
“You can leave, too.” Callie focused on her cookies.
“Callie.” Beau moved closer. “I hate seeing you doing this.”
She squinted at him. “Doing what?”
“Working like this. Running a business out of our home.”
“My home.” She gritted her teeth.
“It’s ridiculous. Our divorce is ridiculous.”
“Oh my God. We are not doing this.”
“Callie. What if I told you I still love you?”
Heat flashed through her veins. “No, no, no! Don’t even say that. You cheated on me. You don’t love me.”
He made a frustrated sound. “Why do you keep throwing that in my face?”
She stared at him in disbelief. “What is even happening here? Our marriage ended over a year ago. This is ridiculous. Just leave, Beau. Please. We have nothing more to say to each other, and what I do with my life is none of your business.”
Beau’s face tightened. Then he turned and left.
Callie slumped against the counter, her knees buckling. Tears welled up behind her eyelids, and she drew in a long, slow breath. Well. That had been unpleasant.
She’d never be as good as Josh Junior in her parents’ eyes. Yet she wasn’t as much of a rebel as Griff was. He’d given up caring long ago. She didn’t like the bitterness he carried, but she knew it protected him from being hurt. Maybe she needed to be tougher, like him.
She was working on that.
She hadn’t expected her parents to be excited about her plans. She hadn’t expected them to really even notice. She definitely hadn’t expected them to be so opposed to it. What was she hurting?
Oh yeah, their image.
She thought about their reactions and how maybe, just maybe, Daddy would grudgingly admit she knew what she was doing. Beau, not so much.
She also hadn’t expected Beau to try to tell her he still loved her. A string of curses ran through her head. What was that about? But at least she knew for sure that she was over him, because she hadn’t even been tempted to take him seriously.
She contrasted his reaction to her starting her own business to Cash’s. Cash had been surprised at first, but interested, and then totally supportive. He hadn’t tried to talk her out of it.
She shouldn’t be thinking about Cash, though it was hard not to after everything they’d shared last weekend. A longing to talk to him and hear his steady voice and encouraging words swept over her.
She did need to talk to him about the party for his mom.
So she picked up her cell phone and dialed his number.
He answered with, “Hi, Callie.” Obviously she was programmed into his contacts. Warmth spread through her chest.
“Hey. Guess who was just here, trying to talk me out of this crazy bakery idea?”
After a beat of silence, he said, “Your dad?”
“Yep. And Beau. They’re both horrified that I’m doing something so demeaning.”
“Demeaning? Bullshit. You’re an artist.”
That warmth inside her spread wider. “Thank you.”
“Are you okay?”
“Oh yeah. I…I stood up to them.”
“Good for you.”
Some of the tension eased out of her body. “Yeah. And I think my dad was kind of surprised by my business plan.” She sat on a stool, feeling lighter and calmer. “Anyway. I need to ask you some questions about the party for your mom, and the birthday cake. Do you have time right now?”
“Sure.”
“Do you know how many people will be there?”
“Yeah, I just checked with her friend Barb, and they’ve confirmed eight friends. With Ginnie, Kevin, me, and you, that will be twelve.”
Her mouth fell open. “Me?”
“Yeah. I want you to come. You’re helping to plan it, and you’re doing the cake.”
“I’ve… I don’t even know your mom. Are you sure she’d be okay with that?”
“Hell yeah, she’ll be fine with it.”
Would she think there was something more to their relationship than there really was? How was Cash going to introduce her? She should probably decline the invitation so things didn’t get more complicated. But it was nice of him to invite her, and they were friends…sort of… “Okay. So, um, the menu. I looked online, and you get three choices of salads, three main courses, and unlimited desserts. Except I’m bringing the cake, so when I talked to them, they said they’d give us a choice of three starters as well in the fixed price. Is there anything in particular your mom likes?”
“Hang on. Let me go onto the website.”
Callie opened her browser and found the site, also. Together they decided on selections.
“Now what about the cake? What kind of cake does your mom like, and do you have a design in mind?”
“I have no clue. All those flowers you make are cool, but it looks like a lot of work.”
She smiled. “You’re going to pay me for it, right?”
“Of course I am!” He sounded so horrified that she laughed.
“I was teasing. What’s her favorite color?”
“Christ. Um, I think it’s pink.”
“Hmm. Okay. What about a pink lemonade cake?”
“Sure.”
She shook her head. “Do you want me to sketch out a design and send it to you first?”
“Nah. Whatever you come up with will rock.”
“You’re not helping me much.”
“I don’t know anything about fancy cakes.”
“Go to my new website and look at some of the pictures.”
“Your website is up?”
“Yep.” She gave him the URL.
Computer keys clicked as Cash typed it in. “Oh hey, now. That looks really nice.”
“Thank you. You can click on the photos tab and see some pictures.”
“I see.” He went silent momentarily. “Okay, so that wedding cake you made last weekend was pale blue…was that blue velvet?”
“No. The cake was vanilla. If I make a pink lemonade cake, I’d ice it in pink, with pink flowers.”
“Okay, like the one you made your mom, only pink.”
“Well, it’ll be smaller, because there are only twelve people, whereas my mom’s party had fifty.”
“Oh yeah, for sure we don’t need it that big. Okay. Just be creative and make something beautiful.”
She laughed. “Okay.” She paused. “Have you heard from your dad yet?”
“Nah. Who knows. He could have been blowing smoke up— Well. He may never call.”
“I guess.”
They chatted a while longer about various things, Callie updating him on business progress, him telling her about a big project they were working on a bid for, although he didn’t share a lot of details about it.
“Well, I’d better get back to my cookie shots.”
“Your what?”
“Cookie shots.” She described them to him. “I think they’re cool enough to fill now.”
“Oh man, that sounds good.”
“I hope so. I made a lot of them. I’m not even sure what to do with them all. This is when I need a little shop, so I could sell them and get feedback.”
“Yeah. That would be good.”
Her heart climbed up her throat and lodged there. Again, he wasn’t belittling her or trying to talk her out of her dream. Her eyes stung at the fact that Cash supported her when her own family didn’t.
“Okay,” she choked out. “I’ll talk to you soon about the party.”
She ended the call and sucked in a long, slow breath, then moved to the counter to pipe filling into one of the small cups. She popped the first one into her mouth. Damn. That was freakin’ good!
What was she going to do with all these cookie shots?
…
Cash got home from the office the next day at nearly seven, tired and hungry enough to eat his boots. He flicked through the envelopes that had been in his mailbox—crap, crap, and crap—tossed them aside, and headed to the fridge for a beer.
His doorbell rang, and he paused, head inside the fridge. He pulled out a bottle, set it on the counter, and headed to the door.
Callie.
Christ.
Callie.
He opened the door. Because…Callie. “Hey.”
She held up a box. “Cookie shots.”
He shook his head, smiling. “Awesome. I’m starving.”
She walked in but frowned. “Why are you starving?”
“Just got home. Haven’t had dinner yet.”
“Well, cookie shots can’t be your dinner.”
“It can be my appetizer. Lemme at ’em, darlin’.”
She held the box out of his reach, which made him laugh. “You have to eat a meal first.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Yeah, I had a salad at home.”
“A salad.” He shook his head. “You need more than that. I have leftover pizza.”
“Sounds…delicious.”
He grinned, opening his fridge door. He withdrew the box of Giuseppe’s pizza. “You want a piece or not?”
“Eh, sure.” She leaned against the counter that separated his small kitchen from the dining area. His kitchen that was about a tenth the size of hers. “What kind is it?”
“Their special. Ham, pepperoni, mushrooms, green peppers, and olives.”
“Ugh. I hate olives.”
“Right. We’ll pick the olives off your piece.” He remembered that from a time in college they’d all been out for pizza, probably not long after she and Beau had started dating.
He sighed as he slid a pan with the pizza into the oven.
“You need to turn it on,” Callie said.
“I know that, darlin’.” He punched the buttons to turn on the oven and set the temperature at 450.
“You’re supposed to turn it on and let it warm up to temperature before you put the food in.”
“What difference does it make? The food’s still going to get warm. It’ll take longer if I wait for the oven to get hot.”
“Also, at that temperature it’s likely to burn. You should turn it down.”
“Callie.” He walked to the counter, placed his hands flat on the granite, and leaned over so they were nose to nose. “Shut up.”
Their eyes met, and awareness snapped between them. Her lips twitched. “Just trying to help.”
He breathed in her sweet vanilla and brown sugar scent, leaned in a little closer, and kissed her, catching her bottom lip in his teeth. She sucked in a breath through her nose, and the heat around them intensified. “I think you were just trying to annoy me, darlin’.” He licked over that plump lip, then drew back. “Something to drink? I was about to have a beer.”
“Um. Sure. I’ll have a beer.”
He pulled another bottle from the fridge, popped the top, and poured it into a glass for her. He slid it across the counter.
Still looking a bit dazed from the kiss, she picked up the glass and took a gulp. And another.
“I need to change.” He tugged at his tie to loosen it. “Be right back.”
“Sure.”
He shed his suit jacket as he jogged up to his bedroom and then into the walk-in closet. He hung it up, tossed his shirt into the bag he used to take his shirts to the cleaners every week, and hung the suit pants up as well. He pulled open a drawer to grab a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Moments later he was walking barefoot into the kitchen as Callie was climbing onto a stool at the counter.
He glanced at the oven and saw the temperature was now 375. He shook his head. “You had to do it, didn’t you?”
She grinned.
“Is it burning?”
“Well, no.” She looked around. “Have I ever told you that I like your place?”
“Not sure.” She’d been there before, of course, lots of times with Beau in the few years since he’d bought this townhouse.
“I love the feel of it. All the trees and shrubs outside, the big windows… It’s cozy.”
“It’s pretty small and ordinary compared to your mansion.”
“You could afford something bigger, with all the money you and Beau are raking in.”
He shrugged. “I don’t need anything bigger. This place has three bedrooms, more than I need. Ginnie stays with Mama when she comes home. I don’t need a mansion.”
“Yeah, my house is way too huge. And your place feels comfortable.”
They ended up watching another episode of Daredevil as they ate pizza, then Cash devoured a bunch of cookie shots. “Damn, these are good. Do you ever have anything that doesn’t turn out?”
“No.” Then she laughed. “Okay, a few times. But usually for me, ‘not turning out’ just means it doesn’t look perfect and still tastes okay.”
“I’ll gladly take any of your rejects. One more episode?”
One more turned into two. They sat next to each other on the couch, somehow ending up closer. When Callie’s bare arm brushed his, every hair on his body stood on end with the electricity of it. Her hip bumped his when she leaned forward to pick up her beer and heat surged to his groin. He wanted to pull her onto his lap, slide his hands up under her shirt, and kiss her into next week.
Distracted from the TV show, he studied her smooth legs, her bare feet propped on his coffee table, her toenails now painted soft pink. He watched her toes curl, and glanced sideways to see her eyes widen at a particularly dramatic moment in the show. “I can’t believe he did that,” she said.
Yeah, whatever. He needed to focus on the show and not be aware of Callie’s every breath and change of position.
Fuuuuuck.
Easier said than done. Now distracted by her legs, he let his gaze roam over smooth thighs and calves, wishing he could touch them. Wishing he could wrangle her out of those shorts and under him on the couch with those slender ankles over his shoulders. His dick lengthened and thickened, and he shifted on the couch.
She glanced at him, eyebrows raised as if she knew he was hurting for her, the corners of her mouth lifting. “You okay?”
Tension snapped between them, and he knew without a doubt she was as aware of him as he was of her. “Yeah,” he choked out. “Sure.”
Jesus, how was he supposed to admit he was turned on just by sitting beside her on the couch and looking at her bare legs?
The show ended and Callie groaned. “Damn. It’s nearly eleven. I don’t want to stop watching, but I’d better get home.”
Hell. That made him want to weep with frustration, his erection painful. He turned to her, still hopeful that maybe she’d decide to jump him now that the show was over. But no…she stood.
Then she stretched, which made her T-shirt lift up and reveal a strip of skin just above the low-rise waist of her shorts. Cash’s mouth watered with the urge to press his mouth right there on her firm stomach. He swallowed, his dick aching, his hands itching to touch. Hands off. Hands off.
“Thanks for the cookies,” he managed to say in a calm tone as he stood, too.
“You’re welcome.” She moved to pick up her purse and car keys, pausing near the door. “I guess I’ll see you next weekend. At your mom’s party.”
“Yeah. I’ll talk to you before then. We’ll figure out a plan.”
“Sounds good.”
They eyed each other for a long, wordless moment, heat expanding around them. He knew they were thinking the same thing—they both wanted more. But they were uncertain of exactly what their relationship now was.
Finally, Callie broke the silence. “Good night, Cash.”
“Night, darlin’.”
He watched her from the door to make sure she was safely in her car. Crickets chirped in the shrubbery, the night air soft and damp. Then her taillights disappeared around the bend in his street.