Chapter Three
Callie licked some batter off her finger. “Mmm. That is good.” Then she looked up at Cash and found his eyes on her. His very hot, interested eyes. She paused with her finger in her mouth, staring back at him.
Whoa.
Her heart gave a kick in her chest. Cash could not be looking at her that way, as if he wanted to spread batter all over her naked body and lick it off. And she could not be thinking that she might…like that.
She gulped and grabbed a towel to wipe her hands. “Okay,” she said a little breathlessly. “Time to pipe the batter onto the baking sheets.”
She’d already lined them with parchment.
“Um, maybe you could hold the pastry bag for me?” Her skin tingled all over. “While I get the batter in it.” She handed him the flexible cone, and he held it as she scraped in the pale batter. She was standing close enough to smell his aftershave again, the spicy, sexy scent she knew as Cash. Close enough to feel his body heat. Close enough to admire his biceps in a snug T-shirt. She pulled in a deep breath and focused on piping the meringue into perfect rounds on the parchment.
“How many of these are you making? Looks like enough for a football team.”
“If football teams liked macarons. Which I doubt.”
“I play football. I like macarons.”
“Have you ever had one?”
“No.” He grinned, a sexy, dimpled grin. “But your batter tastes damn good. And I like anything sweet.”
“True. Well, you can taste them when we’re done, and you can take some home and serve them to your football buddies.”
Cash still played football on weekends with a bunch of guys. Not the college level he’d played at UT Austin, but still a way for him to have fun with the sport he loved. She pictured him arriving at the football field with a box of fancy little cookies and laughed out loud.
“Yeah, very funny,” he agreed. “As if I’d share.”
She slid the pans into one of the double wall-mounted ovens, closed the doors, turned the temperature down to 325, and set the timer. Then she leaned against the counter. “These only take about ten minutes. But they have to cool before I can sandwich them.”
She surveyed her messy kitchen and the cakes cooling over on the other counter. “I could probably ice those now.”
“Jesus. Are you trying to put yourself in a diabetic coma?”
“Haha.” She pushed away from the counter. “I was experimenting with making sugar flowers yesterday. That was another thing I learned in France. But it’s one of those things where you have more failures than successes at first.”
“Sugar flowers?”
She got to work rolling out fondant icing. “Yes. I’ll show you in a few minutes.”
The timer dinged, and she hurried back to the oven to check her precious macarons. She did a quick exhale. “They look perfect.”
She pulled the trays out and set them aside to cool and returned to her fondant.
Cash started putting bowls and utensils into the sink. “You should sell this stuff, Callie.”
She bit her lip and gave him a quick look through her eyelashes. “Um, I’ve actually been thinking about that.”
“Really?” He ran hot water into the sink and squeezed in detergent.
“It’s a crazy idea.”
“I don’t know. This stuff looks pretty professional.”
She nodded, focusing on her task. She’d spent the last two days either working on the flowers or doing online research into what it took to open a bakery. She’d learned a lot working at Duchesse in France, but opening your own business was a whole other story.
The creative part of it was what really drew her in. Building the beautiful flowers was painstaking, and some might think it tedious, but she loved it. All the attention to detail appealed to her, and she’d been practicing making the gum paste really thin and adding color with edible paints to make the flowers look realistic.
When she had the fondant covering both cakes smoothly, she crossed the kitchen to the dining table and carried a big plastic box over to the island. Cash moved closer, drying his hands, eyeing the box curiously. She removed the lid to reveal her flowers carefully nestled in tissue paper. They were peonies in shades of pink, from pale pink to fuchsia, various sizes, with delicate shaded petals.
“Holy crap,” Cash said. “Those look real.”
She nodded eagerly. “They turned out pretty good.” She pointed at one. “That one’s not so great. I used a little too much paint. And this one’s not quite right, either.”
“Hell, they look perfect to me. You can actually eat those?”
“Yes.”
“Wow.” He met her eyes. “That’s really amazing, Callie. You’re an artist.”
She tipped her head and gave him a wry smile. “It just took me a while to figure out what my medium is. All those drawing and painting classes were fun, but I never got really into that stuff. For some reason, I love playing around with sugar.”
He smiled. “There you go.”
She began to assemble the flowers and leaves, arranging them on top of the fondant cakes, using the best ones together. She stepped back to eye the creation. “There. I hope Mama likes it.”
“Does she know you do this?”
“No. I mean, she knows I like to bake. I always did, even when I was a teenager. She didn’t really know what to make of it. I think she was afraid I’d get fat.” She made a face. Mama was always on a diet, counting calories and working out to keep her slender shape. But both she and her mother had small bone structures and were naturally slim, so she’d never understood Mama’s obsession with not putting on weight. “But I learned to do this stuff in Europe.”
“Well, I’m sure she’ll love it.”
“I need to take a picture. Hang on.” She arranged the cake so the light was right and took a few pictures. She’d post them on Instagram and Facebook later.
“Okay! Let’s check those macarons.”
“Time to eat them?”
“Nope. Now we put them together with the cookie dough.”
She carefully peeled each cookie off the parchment. One broke. “Damn. They’re so delicate. I always lose a couple.” The rest came off easily, though, and she piped cookie dough carefully onto the flat side of a macaron and topped it with another. She handed the first one to Cash. “Here. Try it.”
He took a bite. It crumbled a little, but that was okay. He slowly chewed and swallowed, and she watched his face, her insides quivering as she shifted from one foot to the other.
“Jesus. I think I just heard angels singing.”
Happiness bloomed in her chest. “Yay!”
He popped the rest into his mouth. “Christ. Why does it taste so good?”
“Lots of butter.”
He groaned. “Great. Do I need to worry about my cholesterol?”
“You’re a young, fit man. I’m sure you don’t.” Um yeah, he was definitely fit. Firm. Muscled.
“Right now I don’t even care. Give me another one of those.”
She smiled and handed one over, then continued assembling. “Oh! I just had an idea of what I could do with the leftover flowers.” She paused, then reached for a plate. Carefully, she built a macaron tower, then topped it with some of the smaller rejected flowers, adding one at the base. She stepped back.
“Nice.” Cash nodded.
“It’s not bad. But seriously…if I made the macarons bigger…like an eight-inch cake, layered them with filling, and decorated with flowers that matched…oh yeah.” Excitement bubbled up inside her, like it did whenever she got a new idea. “Oh, I want to try that right now!”
“Think you’ve got enough sweets at the moment, darlin’.”
“I know.” She sighed. “Maybe tomorrow.”
He burst out laughing.
“Oh never mind. I have to go to my parents’ tomorrow for the birthday party.” She frowned.
“You don’t look like you’re jumping up and down about that.”
“They still haven’t forgiven me for leaving Beau.”
“Jesus.”
She scrunched her face up into a smile. “It’s okay. I can handle them. I just hope they haven’t invited him.”
“Ugh. They have kept in touch with him.”
She eyed him. “You know that?”
“Yeah. Beau had lunch with your dad the other day at the Houston Club.”
“Shit.” She sighed. “Eat that macaron tower, I was just playing around with it.”
“Don’t want it to go to waste.” He wolfed down the cookies, then patted his flat abs. “Good thing I went for a run this morning.”
“Well, I guess I’d better clean up. After I do a few more pictures.” She moved a plate and snapped some more images.
“I’ll help.”
“You don’t have to. I mean thank you, but…” She met his eyes. “I’m fine.”
He nodded slowly. “I know you are, darlin’.”
They shared a slow smile, and Callie tried to ignore the sparks that heated her bloodstream. Damn. Last night she’d blamed that tug of attraction on all the booze. Today…she couldn’t blame it on anything. But it was wrong. Cash was a friend. In fact, he wasn’t even her friend—he was Beau’s.
When they had restored order to her kitchen, save for the boxes of goodies, she said, “Thank you for Mama Maybelle’s. And the help. And for looking after me last night.” She was still embarrassed that her memories of coming home were so murky, though parts of it had come back to her through the morning. Hopefully she hadn’t said or done anything that would be mortifying…like act on the attraction she’d felt. Ack.
“No problem. Glad you’re okay today.” He paused. “You ever need anything, you call me, right, Callie?”
“Sure. But I’m good.” She’d called on him too many times for help. She needed to learn to stand on her own two feet. Having married Beau right after college, this was the first time she’d ever lived alone, and she had to prove she could do this.
Macarons went into a glossy white cardboard box she’d bought at the baker supply store, and she handed it to Cash. “Here you go.”
“Hey, my mom’s birthday is next month. You think you could make a fancy cake like that for her?”
“Oh, I’d love to!”
“That’d be awesome. We’re still not sure what we’re going to do, maybe a small party. I’ll let you know.”
“Okay, great.”
“You still set on getting inked?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head but said, “Okay, I’ll make an appointment for next weekend, okay?”
“Sure.” Her smile felt glum. “I don’t have much else going on.”
He stood at the door, keys in his hands, watching her. Then he nodded. “Okay then. Bye, darlin’.”
She waited in the open door and watched him walk down the driveway, bakery box perched on his arm, and climb into his truck. Then she closed the door and turned back into her big empty house.
Now it felt even emptier without Cash’s big presence.
She wandered back to the kitchen, which smelled like vanilla and sugar, two of her favorite scents. Her cake wasn’t quite as perfect as she’d like it, but she knew it would impress people. Probably not her parents. If she wasn’t married to Beau and a member of the Junior League and busy organizing charity balls, she wasn’t a true Sutherland.
…
“Happy birthday, Mama.” Callie leaned in to air kiss her mother’s cheek. “I brought you this.” The cake was packed in a big white box, and she’d tied a pretty pink and purple ribbon around the box and into a big bow.
“I said no presents, honey.”
“It’s not exactly a present. It’s your birthday cake.”
“Ah, Callie, that’s so sweet.”
“I told Daddy not to buy a cake because I was bringing one. I can’t wait for you to see it.”
She carried the cake into the kitchen of her parents’ River Oaks home.
“Who else is coming?” she asked.
“Just family.”
Just family. Ha. That meant a full house, given the size of their family.
“Josh Junior,” Mama continued.
Of course. Josh was Daddy’s mini-me, working with him in the real estate development business Daddy had taken over from Mama’s family.
“And Griff is coming.”
“Oh my God! Really?”
Mama smiled, clearly happy to see her other son. “Yes. He flew from Florida just for the party.”
Mama and Daddy weren’t happy Griff had taken off for Florida years ago, when they thought he should have been working in the family business, but Griff had always been the black sheep of the family. Callie missed him so much, but she understood his rebellion. Where she’d tried so hard to please Mama and Daddy, Griff had enjoyed pissing them off. She and Griff had a bond, a feeling of being on the outside of their own family, while Josh Junior was the favored son.
“And Aunt Emily and Uncle Jason are coming, and of course Grandma and Grandpa Sutherland.”
“I can’t wait to see them. I love your dress,” she said truthfully. The black-and-white print dress draped perfectly over Mama’s slim frame. “Is it new?”
“Yes. From Manon. She told me she offered you your old job. Are you going to go back there?”
“I don’t know. Probably not.”
“What would you like to drink, dear? We’ll open the champagne later, but we can have a glass of white wine now if you’d like.”
“Sure.” She could probably handle one glass of wine after her excesses the other night.
Mama poured wine and handed her a glass. Then the front door opened and voices carried through to the back of the house. “Oh, someone is here. Excuse me.”
Mama’s high heels tapped against the hardwood floor as she hurried off.
“Hey, cupcake.”
Callie turned to see her father enter the kitchen. He was handsome at fifty-four, his still-dark hair thick and shiny. His short beard and mustache were neatly trimmed, but his eyebrows were as wild as always.
She smiled at the childhood nickname. Apparently she’d loved sweets since birth. She moved toward him for a hug. “Hi, Daddy.”
When she’d learned that he had cheated on her mother more than once, she’d felt let down and betrayed. She’d lost respect for her father. But she’d come to realize that while her parents had been together thirty years, they weren’t exactly the poster couple for love matches. From some things her mother had said after she’d revealed that news, Callie now believed that her father had likely married Mama for her wealthy family’s social and business connections. That seemed to work fine for Mama, too.
But he was still her daddy, and she loved him.
“I had lunch with Beau the other day.” Dad poured himself a glass of bourbon. “He says he misses you.”
Callie’s eyebrows flew up, and she swallowed a sigh of annoyance. “Too bad he didn’t miss me when he was screwing around with all those other women.”
“Language, young lady.”
“Oh please, Daddy. I could say much worse.” Her jaw tight, she took a small sip of her wine.
“He was the perfect husband for you, Callie.”
She stared at her daddy. How could Beau be perfect when he was a cheater? But that just showed what her father valued in life. Beau’s family connections and business acumen were apparently what mattered most.
Even though lately she’d been questioning the extent of her feelings for Beau, nobody wanted to be cheated on. It was humiliating and insulting. It only reinforced her belief that she wasn’t really worth loving. Her parents had basically ignored their children while they went about their lives, hiring expensive nannies and sending them to swish summer camps. She’d tried so hard to be perfect so they’d love her, and when she’d married Beau, she’d finally felt their approval. Her divorce put a sharp end to that.
“Let’s go see who’s here,” she said quietly, moving past her father.
More and more people were arriving, filling the spacious living room with laughter and chatter. She greeted her brother Josh with a lukewarm hug, then turned to her cousins, keeping a smile firmly in place.
When Griff walked in, she flew across the room to greet him.
“Callie!” Her brother gave her a long squeeze.
“I’ve missed you so much, dammit.” She sniffled and smiled up at him, her chest full of emotion. They’d kept in touch, but it had been too long since she’d seen him. “Whoa. You need a haircut.”
He shook his head, grinning. He now wore his long blond hair pulled up into a bun that she was sure Mama and Daddy despised. But she had to admit, it suited him.
She gave his shoulder a punch and whispered, “How could you leave me here alone with them?” She rolled her eyes at their family.
“You can handle them. Plus, you left, too, taking off to Europe all on your own.” His eyes crinkled up at the corners. “So, I heard Kristy threw you a divorce party.”
“Yeah. Crazy idea, but it was fun. How long are you staying?”
“Just tonight.”
“Damn.” She pouted. “That’s way too short.”
Their conversation was interrupted by Mama hurrying over to greet Griff, and then Mama dragged him off to see Grandma and Grandpa Sutherland, who’d driven in from White Willow Ranch. Callie studied Daddy and Josh Junior as they watched Griff with identical narrowed eyes from across the room. Yep, neither of them was rushing over to see Griff. Callie’s shoulders tensed.
She answered questions from her extended family about her European trip, as she hadn’t seen most of these people since she’d gotten back a month ago. She told them about the little flat she’d rented in Paris while working at the patisserie, the things she’d learned, the sights she’d seen.
Much discussion at the party centered around worries about the oil industry. The crash in the price of oil had definitely caused some turmoil in the Sutherland family. Although the price of oil had revived briefly last spring, it had recently plunged to a new low. The Sutherland fortunes weren’t at risk, as the family had diversified, but the economy in Texas as a whole was affected, and even Daddy was concerned about his real estate development business as other companies scaled back on expansion plans.
The doorbell rang again. Mama was busy talking to Uncle Aaron and his son, Callie’s cousin Nash, so Callie moved to answer it.
Her ex-husband stood in the doorway with a small wrapped gift in his hands.
“Beau.”
“Callie.” He gave her an up-and-down look. “Hi.”
She wanted to close her eyes and drop her chin to her chest. She hadn’t really thought her parents would invite Beau. But Jesus tap-dancing Christ, here he was. She couldn’t even make herself smile as she stepped back. “Come in.”
She could do this. She was over him. It had been more than a year since they’d split up and longer than that since he’d broken her heart. She’d been gone much of the last year, so she hadn’t seen him a lot. But she was over him.
“You look beautiful, Callie,” Beau said in a low voice.
“Thank you.” She kept her tone light. He looked good, too. He always had. His dark-gold hair swept across his forehead. His square chin, firm lips, and high cheekbones gave him an elegant look, and his body was big and fit in his tailored suit. Like Cash, he’d played college football, which was how they’d met, and he’d stayed in shape since then.
“I was hoping I’d see you tonight.” He kept his tone quiet. “We should talk.”
She frowned. “About what?” The divorce was final, everything had been sorted out by their attorneys without animosity or fighting, and there was nothing left to talk about.
“Us.” He met her eyes. “I miss you.”
“Oh right.” She’d already heard that from Daddy, so her jaw didn’t hit the hardwood floor. “I think you’re just confused.”
His forehead creased. “What?”
She waved a hand, smiling. “You don’t miss me, Beau. If anything, you miss being married. But you’ll find some other sucker, er, some other woman to settle down with. Now come on in and say happy birthday to Mama.”
She breezed past him and into the living room, heading for the bar at the far end, where she poured herself another glass of wine and gulped half of it down.
Eeek. She’d better control herself. She had to drive home. There was no Cash here to rescue her tonight. She turned to see that Beau had followed her. He was walking toward Mama, but his eyes were on her, his expression somber and thoughtful.
Shit. What the hell was that?
With an ache in her chest and heaviness in her limbs, she watched as Mama greeted him with a hug and a big smile. Shoot. They probably loved him more than they loved her. She let out a long breath and turned to her cousins to gossip about some mutual friends.
After they’d eaten from the lavish buffet catered by Vittorio’s, one of Houston’s most popular restaurants, Callie carried out her cake. She bit her lip as she carefully set it on the dining table and looked up at her mother. “Happy birthday, Mama.”
Other guests crowded around, exclaiming about the cake.
“It’s gorgeous, Callie!”
“I can’t believe you made that!”
Mama smiled and said, “How pretty, Callie.”
“It’s more than pretty,” Griff said, and Callie shot him a smile at his support. “It’s amazing.” He bumped her shoulder. “Seriously.”
“It’s a shame to eat it,” Aunt Emily said.
“Well, it’s made for eating,” Callie said. “I love to make things pretty, but in the end, they have to taste good. Mama, would you like to cut it?”
“You go ahead, honey.”
Callie paused, her vision blurring, her chest tightening. She blinked a few times, then picked up a big knife, cut a piece, and plated it. She handed it to her mother with a forced toothy smile. “Birthday girl gets the first piece.”
“Thank you.”
But Callie was aware by the time everyone else was done, again exclaiming about how good the cake was, Mama had taken only one small bite. She watched Mama set her plate on one end of the buffet along with other dishes from dinner.
Callie bent her head and looked at the cake on her own plate, her throat painfully constricted. Finally she’d found something she was good at, that she loved doing, and once again, Mama didn’t even care enough to pretend to be proud of her.