Wedding Cake Wishes (5 page)

“Back to my house, then?” Trina looked around at all their faces. “Chicken and noodles are in the Crock-Pot, and a pie is cooling on the counter. We'll eat a nice lunch and then head over to visit Amy.”

After several affirmative murmurs, they all started up the aisle toward the exit.

Logan cleared his throat just as they stepped outside. “Ah, I don't think I'm going to be able to make it.”

“But—” Trina's smile fell.

“I'll catch up with all of you at the hospital.”

Dylan elbowed his brother and waggled an eyebrow. “Got another date?”

“Something like that,” Logan answered.

“Who with this time?”

Logan shrugged but didn't answer.

“Guess he's not telling.” Matthew glanced at his watch. “It's barely past noon on a Sunday, bro. That has to be a new record for you.”

Haley stopped and faced her husband. “Jealous of all that freedom?”

“No way. Not me.” Matthew held his hands up in a defensive pose.

“Good answer,” Haley said with a grin.

Caroline told herself she wasn't jealous, either. Not
of Logan's hopping social calendar. Certainly not of the woman who would be spending the afternoon with Logan, though she was curious about this mystery woman. Knowing Logan, she was probably beautiful. And equally empty-headed.

No, Caroline definitely wasn't jealous. But disappointed? She shouldn't care one way or another whether Logan spent the afternoon with her—um…their families, but she did. Her excuse that she only wanted them all to be together didn't hold water, either.

How could she admit that she wanted to spend more time with Logan Warren? Even if she were in the market for a relationship, which she wasn't, Logan was about the last man on earth she should choose, and yet something was drawing her to him.

Something that needed to be stopped. This was a recipe for disaster, especially with the two of them trying to work together. It didn't matter how handsome he looked when those dimples popped or how he made her laugh with his clever repartee. She was a strong, independent woman—not some hopeless romantic. She had to admit she was attracted to Logan, but she planned to get over it right now.

 

Logan set his helmet on his motorcycle and threw his head back, closing his eyes and breathing in the earthy scent of southern Indiana. Though Boyton County State Park was more crowded than he preferred with holiday picnickers and the air was tinged with the scent of barbecue grills, serenity still flooded Logan's veins.

Even the twenty-minute ride out to the park on his Harley hadn't made him feel so at peace. He didn't need
people in this place, could be alone without feeling lonely. He was at home.

Sunlight warmed his face and filtered through his closed lids, transforming darkness to an orange glow. The heat made his leather jacket uncomfortably warm, though, so as he opened his eyes, he shrugged out of it. He hooked his thumb under the collar and tossed it over his shoulder.

Just twenty paces from the gravel parking lot, he reached his favorite spot. From the lookout, he had the best seat in the house to see God's creations in the verdant valley below and the rolling hills in the distance. A robin chirped on a nearby sycamore tree branch, and a hawk swooped below, hinting at even more wildlife hidden beneath the backdrop of green.

Tossing his jacket on a grassy spot near the drop-off, he settled next to it. He stretched out his legs, crossing his booted ankles, and rested back on his elbows. Instead of bowing his head, he tilted his chin up and closed his eyes.

“Father, I feel Your presence here,” he prayed aloud, without worrying he might be overheard. “Thank You for holding Mom in Your hand all week. Thank You for carrying all of us through this difficult time. I ask that You continue to hold Mom, to heal her if it is Your will.”

Logan didn't say “amen” because he and God still had a lot of talking to do today. Their chats here tended to take a while. A smile pulled at his lips as he wondered what his brothers would have thought if they knew this was his “date.” What about Caroline? Would she be surprised?

He didn't know about that, but she was sure shocked
when she'd watched him roll into church in his best suit. Had she liked what she'd seen? He'd sure appreciated how lovely she'd looked in that narrow skirt and that ruffled turquoise blouse—more than he should have. She'd even worn her hair down again in a mass of waves, and it had been all he could do not to brush his hand through that silky chaos. Even now…

Startled, Logan straightened. Where had that come from? He hadn't dressed up to impress Caroline, anyway, had he? He shook his head hard. He'd made the effort for his mother, whether she was there to see him or not. Still, part of him couldn't help being pleased that he'd gotten a reaction out of Caroline as well, even if it was shock.

“Lord, why can't I get her out of my mind? Even here.”

Was he thinking of her because of Reverend Boggs's sermon today? She'd seemed so uncomfortable afterward that he'd felt this strange need to shield her from whatever was bothering her. It was absurd to imagine that Caroline Scott would ever need anything from anyone, him in particular, but he'd still felt it.

With a huff of frustration, Logan lay back on the grass and stared up into the huge expanse of puffy cumulus clouds. Even turning down Mrs. Scott's lunch invitation to put some distance between him and Caroline hadn't been enough to remove her from his thoughts. Her image had just slipped inside his helmet and had come along for the ride.

Well, he'd come out here to find some perspective, and that was what he intended to do. He might have allowed women to distract him so many times before, but this time would be different. He intended to keep his
promise to his mother, and that meant avoiding all distractions, even those with brains and beauty to match.

He wasn't really attracted to Caroline anyway, he told himself. She was too different from him, her frenzied need for more and greater success as foreign to him as her life in the big city. Still, he couldn't help being intrigued by all of that intensity, all that drive. He liked to observe her the way he recorded data about some of the wildlife in the park. He didn't feel drawn by the vulnerability that only he could see in her. He was no more interested in her than she was in him.

“It would never work out, anyway. You probably never created two people who were more different,” he said, chuckling. “She's Type A to the tenth power, and I'm—”

He stopped himself, squeezing his eyes shut. Who was he trying to convince…God or himself?

C
aroline had never thought of herself as claustrophobic, but as she stood inside the closetlike storage room with its walls appearing to creep in by tiny increments, she had to wonder.

She glanced down at the clipboard in her hands and then back up to the shelves nearest the ceiling. Logan had surprised her by showing up to work the holiday with her, instead of taking the day off with the rest of the staff. She would have said that he was the hardest-working wastrel she'd ever met, but she'd already decided that most of her preconceptions about Logan had been way off the mark.

At least they were working on separate projects, so they wouldn't be in each other's way or close enough to make each other uncomfortable with the rest of the staff gone. She chose not to wonder which of them might be more uncomfortable.

Instead of wishing this time that he would ask her for help on that laptop, she was grateful for his combination of excessive pride and limited computer skills. He would stay in that office for hours trying to figure out
the program so that she could deal with the inventory and supply orders alone.

Already, she'd completed counts on the parchment paper and foil and then flour and sugar on the lower shelves, so all that remained were the supplies on the top shelf.

Pulling the step ladder from its hook on the wall, she set it on the floor and started up the steps.

She'd settled on the step where she could reach the huge containers of baking powder and baking soda when she heard a knock on the door just two feet behind her.

“Caroline, are you still in there?”

“Wait—”

But she didn't say it loudly enough because Logan was already pushing the door open, and the metal door struck the ladder with a thwack. The ladder took that as signal to dump its load—namely her.

“Oh, no,” Logan called out as he stuck his head and arm in and grabbed one metal leg of the ladder. It might have been a gallant gesture if she weren't already sprawled on the concrete floor, her clipboard next to her head. Holding on to the ladder so it wouldn't fall on her, he pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped inside.

“Sorry.” He grimaced as he looked down at her. “Are you all right?”

“Ouch.” Caroline sat up and rubbed her scraped elbow, but her backside had taken the brunt of her fall, and she wasn't about to let him know
that.
Heat flooded her cheeks, but she supposed she shouldn't waste time feeling embarrassed. She'd been nothing but vulnerable from the moment she'd arrived back in Markston.
“I'm fine. I would tell you to learn to knock, but you did that.”

Letting the door fall closed behind him, he crouched next to her and reached out a hand. “Next time I'll wait for an answer.”

As soon as his fingers closed over hers, Caroline realized her mistake in letting him help her to her feet. A tingle she couldn't define began in her fingertips and raced up her arm. His hands were callused from hard work, another contradiction in an endless line from the earlier image she'd had of him. For a fleeting moment, she wondered how it would feel for their fingers to be laced together, his rough thumb brushing on the back of her hand.

Caroline jerked back so quickly that she bumped the shelf with her sore elbow, but she managed to stay on her feet this time. She chewed her lip as she bent to collect the clipboard and pen from the floor.

“You sure you're okay?”

“Just trying to get my equilibrium back.” Because it wouldn't be in her best interest, she didn't mention that merely being in his presence threw her off balance.

He glanced at the floor-to-ceiling shelves on one side of the room and the cleaning-supply closet on the opposite side. “I used to hide in here when I was in elementary school, but I don't remember it being so cramped.”

A nod was the best she could manage with him so close that she could breathe in his fresh-scented bath soap. A four-foot buffer separated them, but it wasn't enough. She'd imagined that the room was shrinking before, but it was nothing compared to the cocoon of
intimacy she felt now, the kind that made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

She cleared her throat, resisting the urge to rub her neck beneath the bun. “You were small for your age back then, and you probably weren't hiding in a group, either.”

“Things have changed, I guess.”

She swallowed. He was right, but she wouldn't be sharing that with him. Her plan to will away her attraction for Logan was working about as well as a car starting without an engine.

“Well, aren't you glad you chose this as the way to spend your holiday?” He glanced at the inventory sheet in her hands. “Nearly being maimed and all?”

“I needed to get out of Mom's house for a while.”

“That's got to be cramped. Your mom wasn't planning for more than one houseguest when she bought her two-bedroom home.”

“And Jenna has dibs on the guest room until the wedding—whenever that is—so I'm stuck with the sofa.”

“Did your mom complain about you working the holiday?”

“Not really. I would have worked it at…er…my former position, too. Holidays and Sundays are the best for working without interruptions.”

“I couldn't believe it when you asked Mom about working Sundays here.” He stopped and shook his head. “That was about the clearest ‘no' we've heard from her since the stroke. She's always been adamant about not working on the Lord's day.”

“I didn't mind working Sundays. I wrote most of my reports on Sundays.”

Logan tilted his head and studied her. “But didn't
you go stir-crazy holed up in that office while all the other people were with their families? Didn't you get lonely?”

Like she had been several times lately, Caroline was convinced Logan could see right through her. That he somehow knew that she worked at least part of the time because she had nothing better to do. She didn't want or need his pity. She straightened, feeling more insulted for that than any injury to her backside.

“Sometimes you have to make sacrifices if you plan to succeed in the business world.”

He answered with a nod. She waited for him to point out how little good all of her sacrificing had done when it came time for layoffs, but he didn't say more.

She cleared her throat. “Uh, you never said what you needed from me when you came in here.”

The side of his mouth lifted. “Just wanted to wish you a happy Memorial Day.”

“Are you kidding? You nearly broke my neck, knocking me off the ladder for—”

“Me? Kidding?” He flashed his hundred-watt smile.

Instead of asking again what he needed, she lifted an eyebrow and waited.

“Oh, right. I wanted to see how you were doing with the inventory list.”

“Fine. Sure there's nothing else?”

Logan shrugged, an embarrassed smile spreading on his face. “Okay, you've got me. That computer is giving me nightmares, so I'm finally bowing to your expertise. Will you help a poor Nature Boy in crisis?”

Caroline had to laugh when he looked at her with that theatrical expression and with his hands gripped
together in a plea. She would have hugged him, too, for dropping the uncomfortable subject of her workaholic tendencies, but she figured that would just reignite tension of another kind. This room was far too small for that.

“Wow, humility and everything,” she said, still chuckling. “It takes a strong man to admit he needs help. That's almost as amazing as a man asking for directions.”

He'd already opened the door again and was leaning against it, but now he raised both hands in a signal for her to stop. “Whoa. Whoa. Let's not take that giant leap. I wouldn't want to disturb the real-man code by stopping at a gas station and asking for…the ‘D' word.”

“Don't worry about your membership in the guys' network. Your secret's safe with me.”

He swiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “That's a relief.” He started through the door but looked back at her. “Well, are you going to help me or not?”

“Of course, I am.”

“Are you going to remind me every day that I had to ask you for help?”

“Me?” She did her best to look offended. “You think I would do something like that?”

“Well…”

Okay, she might have done that in the past, but if Logan could call their situation
even
when he'd had a clear advantage, she could be just as generous. “I'll try to hold back, then.”

With a glance up at the top shelf and then to the stepladder she would have to brave again later, she started for the door. She paused as Logan stood holding the door open for her.

“Why do you always do that?”

“What?” He looked confused at first, but then he nodded. “Oh, you mean holding doors for ladies? It's a habit. Why? Does it offend your feminist sensibilities?”

“No,” she said, bristling. “It's just unnecessary. I'm fully capable—”

“Well, that's just too bad.”

She looked up in surprise, only to find him grinning at her.

“Sorry. But you don't know how much time my mother spent
instilling
that habit in my brothers and me.” He smiled over some memory he didn't share. “You wouldn't want Mom to hear that I was anything less than the perfect gentleman working here, would you?”

Caroline tried to answer, but only managed to produce a strangled sound, so she cleared her throat. This was silly. He'd only told her about how his mother taught him proper manners, and all she could do was to imagine Logan opening doors and pulling out chairs…for her. Worse than picturing those things, she was enjoying the musings a little too much. What was wrong with her?

“Fine,” she said finally and pushed past him to lead the way to the office. She was relieved to escape the cramped storage room anyway. She needed to step away from Logan and from his questions about her life in Chicago and about her life in general. It was exhausting feeling so transparent.

But as she turned into the office, she realized her respite was only temporary. Logan had already placed two chairs together in front of the desk. He moved past
her now and took the folding chair, leaving the rolling desk chair for her.

Taking a deep breath, Caroline started toward the desk. Now the two of them would have to squeeze in front of his mother's laptop in another cramped space while she helped him master the software. Was there no place at Amy's Elite Treats that wasn't so cramped? She shook her head as she curled her hand around the external mouse. She was getting the feeling that no space was big enough for her not to feel the pull of Logan Warren.

 

Logan whistled a tune as he parked his motorcycle, digging through his pocket for the bakery keys. Today promised to be a great day. The sun was shining, the skies were clear, and his mother had spoken a full sentence on the phone to him this morning. He wouldn't even let it bother him that her all-important instructions had been to “work early on Saturday.”

He had this work thing under control now. Over the past few days, the staff seemed to have fallen into a comfortable routine, beginning each day with him unlocking the doors and ending with him locking them again. He'd managed to fit in regular hospital visits as well, sometimes during lunch and sometimes after work.

But as he climbed off his bike, he had the sinking feeling that something was off. Until then he hadn't noticed several cars already parked in the lot, but now they were there as signs that he'd dropped the ball. Saturday, of course. That was what his mother was trying to tell him. Though the shop closed early on Saturday afternoons, the kitchen also opened early when they had wedding cake orders.

Breaking into a jog, he crossed the parking lot to the other side of the building. The door was propped open, and a chorus of voices filtered from inside. Great. As if the staff didn't already think he was the boss's incompetent son, he'd just proven them right.

He trudged down the hall, barely stopping to prop his helmet on the shelf, hang his jacket and change from his riding boots to work shoes, before hurrying into the kitchen. The room was hopping, with decorators and bakers already hard at work. Even two part-timers were working along one of the empty counters, making nothing but rosettes and hundreds of tiny green leaves.

“Hey, you're early,” Caroline, who was coming in from the dining area, called out when she saw him.

Logan pressed his lips together. She'd probably had a heyday, sharing jokes with all of the staff. “Sorry—”

Caroline kept talking as if he hadn't spoken. “I was just telling the staff that you had business this morning, so you'd asked me to open for you.” If she noticed his surprise, she didn't let on. “Did you finish everything you needed to do?”

Logan couldn't help but stare. It was like before. She was covering for him again, but this time she was doing it without letting the others in on it. Good thing they'd already agreed to call it equal because he would have owed her big-time for this one.

“Well, did you?” she pressed.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. All done.”

“Well, good because I wanted to ask you who we should call about the sink.”

“The sink?”

He glanced over at the stainless-steel sink along the
wall. The water that filled one side nearly to the top had globs of pink buttercream floating in it.

“Just a guess, but I'm pretty sure it's clogged.”

“Oh, really?” he said.

Caroline grinned before turning serious again. “Do you know which plumber your mother usually works with?”

“None, if she can help it.”

“We've got to do
something
. And soon,” Margie said in the tight tone of an artist under stress. “We have to have one of these cakes delivered to the community center and the other one to Lakeside Country Club by twelve-thirty.”