Win Me Over (2 page)

“You taught me well, Mom; I can totally handle it. And the girls already have costumes and uniforms. We're all good.” Only a tiny lie; the girls desperately needed new performance outfits. No way could Callie let that bit slip; Barbara would show up at the high school with her sewing machine in tow.

“Well, okay, but if you need help you come to me first. And the next time something big happens in your life I better not hear about it in the mani chair. You hear?”

“I promise.”

Eventually, after filling Callie in on all the gossip from her hometown, eating a cinnamon roll as she proclaimed, “I really shouldn't,” about fifteen times, and waiting while Callie called to schedule a haircut, Barbara finally left. Back behind the display counter, Callie let out a deep cleansing breath. Interactions with Barbara were overwhelming. Thankfully she lived an hour away, so they didn't happen too often.

“I do adore her, but she is nuts, you know that, right?” asked Eric.

They both laughed as he leaned against the register munching on a tiny blueberry scone. Callie wasn't sure what she'd do without her best friend, and not only because he looked so fantastic with his muscles filling out the pink Callie's Confections T-shirt. And also not because 30 percent of their business was women just wanting to flirt with him—which he did very well considering he was a gay man. It was for moments like this, when he could joke with her about her crazy family and make her laugh.

He popped the last bite of his scone into his mouth and gave her a wink. “I still love you, Callie Jo,” Eric said in a twangy redneck accent. “Even if you come from bad stock.”

Callie sighed as the bell jingled and Eric turned to help a customer. That was their ongoing joke; he loved to poke fun at Callie and her crazy stage-kid upbringing, her mother dragging her to every talent show, recital, and beauty pageant in the Midwest. It was a surprise that Callie had turned out normal. Not that she didn't have her own set of issues. She was a ruthless overachiever, a bit on the dramatic side—although she'd never admit it out loud—had to have the last word, resorted to humor and sarcasm when she was uncomfortable, and was a little bit of a daddy's girl.

Okay, she had her share of issues. But who didn't? Truth was, she owed a lot to her parents. They were a little backwards in their thinking sometimes and Callie had been embarrassed by them plenty growing up, but they loved her and they'd taught her many valuable lessons. First of which was hard work. Pageants weren't for the faint of heart, and her mother had done whatever it took to make sure Callie was successful, like the time Barbara had worked overnight shifts for three months at the truck stop café just so they could afford Callie a new pageant wardrobe. Barbara was a force to be reckoned with beneath the façade of Merle Norman and Chico's clearance rack. Callie just wished that her mother spent more time valuing herself as an intelligent and strong woman in her own right.

According to Callie's father, both of the Daniels women were strong, but Callie knew she owed a lot of her strength and determination to him. He was the funniest and hardest-working man she knew, running one of the most well-known plumbing companies in Little Grove, Missouri, where she'd grown up. She admired him immensely and wouldn't have had the courage to start her own business without his example and guidance when she needed it.

Peeking into the display case, Callie mentally tallied what still needed to be done before she left for the day and headed to the high school for dance team practice. Her shop, Callie's Confections, made twelve different specialty treats every day Monday through Saturday and then took a limited amount of special orders every weekend. Tomorrow was the first high school football game in Preston, so she'd had a bevy of orders for blue-and-white-frosted cookies and cupcakes in addition to her usual fare.

The bell above the front door rang again and then the small familiar voice of one of her favorite people rang out.

“Errrriiicccc.”

“Clairebuggggg,”

Eric ran around the counter to sweep the little girl into his arms. A man walked in a second later and Callie abjectly appreciated the rugged manscape that accompanied Claire Edmond. Mike Everett was the best thing that had happened to Anne, Claire's mother and Callie's other best friend. Mike and Anne had only been dating a few months, but Callie knew it was the real deal. The two were obsessed with each other. Almost disgustingly so, which had really put a crimp in girl time. But it was worth it. Callie wanted nothing more than for her friends to be happy, and this man made Anne and her daughter happier than Callie had ever seen them.

“Hey, you two.” Callie headed around the counter and out front, giving them a smile. “Isn't this a school day?”

“I just went to the dentist.” Claire dropped from Eric's arms and came over to give Callie a toothy smile.

“Gorgeous. Cavities?”

“Nope,” Claire said before yanking her mouth open with a finger hooked in each cheek.

“She was a trooper, didn't even flinch on X-rays,” Mike said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. There was no mistaking the pride on his face. He truly seemed to love Claire, which made Callie smile.

“Well then, that calls for peanut butter cookies,” Callie sang as she turned toward the kitchen. “Follow me to the VIP section.”

“What's
‘VIP'
mean?” Claire asked.

“Very Interesting Pickles,” Eric said, pulling a funny face.

“Nuh-uh.” Claire giggled. “What's it really mean, Uncle Mike?”

“Very Icky Pigs, I think,” Mike replied.

Callie chuckled at the use of Claire's pet name for Mike. His niece was Claire's best friend and Claire had yet to drop the “Uncle” moniker.

Mike and Claire came into the kitchen behind Callie, and she got to work lifting the peanut butter cookies off the cooling rack and onto a display tray. The beauty of a perfectly baked pastry made her heart swell with pride every time.

Barbara was the queen of trend dieting, so Callie's childhood had been filled with odd desserts made with avocados or applesauce. It was no surprise that when Callie had gone away to college she'd loaded up on flour, real butter, and heavy cream so she could make the real stuff. She'd never stopped.

“These smell yummy, Callie,” Claire said.

“Why, thank you, my dear. Go grab one of those pink boxes, and you can take some home and share them with Mommy.”

“Yay!” Claire exclaimed as she skipped over to the shelves stocked full of paper goods.

“Thanks, Callie. I figured the dentist was cause for a treat, especially since it's the first time Claire's been without Anne,” Mike said.

“I agree: I think baked goods are almost always appropriate in any situation. How's Anne's speech coming along? I assume that's why you took Claire.”

Mike nodded. “This whole blog convention seriously has her stressed. She's scared to death to speak in front of a crowd.”

Anne was the founder of the incredibly popular lifestyle blog
My Perfect Little Life
. It featured everything from party-planning tips and personal anecdotes to DIY furniture restoration. Almost two years ago she'd invited Callie to become a regular contributor, posting recipes and baking tips. Now they also had Lindsey Morales, whose specialty was design and repurposed crafts. Callie loved being a part of the online community that Anne had created; it was almost like being an Internet celebrity. Anne's readers loved her and had welcomed Callie and Lindsey with open arms. It seemed every day they all became more popular. Even more exciting, Anne had been asked to be the keynote speaker at an upcoming blogger convention.

“She'll be amazing. Anne doesn't do anything without doing it well. I kind of hate her for it.”

“Nuh-uh. You love Mommy,” Claire said matter-of-factly as she continued to load treat after treat into the pink box.

Mike finished off his second cookie. “Don't tell anyone, but your cookies could make a grown man cry.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, but the rule is no one cries in this kitchen but me.” Her expression must have been a little too telling, because Mike gave her a raised eyebrow.

“Everything okay?” he asked. It was in that guy tone, the one that said he was worried but really hoped she didn't elaborate because he would have no idea how to handle it.

Callie let out a dramatic sigh as she lowered the lid on the box before Claire could clean her out. The tiny shyster had already moved on to the tray of scones and was closing in on blue and white Panther cupcakes. “Oh yeah, I don't really need to cry. Not today. But my mother did just leave, so there's that.”

“Big yellow hair, Mustang convertible with ‘HR HINES' written on the plate?”

“God, yes, she wanted it to say ‘her highness,' but that obviously was too long to fit.” Callie groaned. Barbara had sported the HRHINES license plate since Callie was six, based on the name of her father's plumbing business, Royal Flush. His advertisements featured her handsome yet rotund father in a crown and cape, holding a plunger instead of a scepter. It was quite a treat to go to high school and be known for being the princess of plungers.

Mike chuckled. “She looked … interesting.”

“You're being sweet. Hipsters and feminists are interesting. My mother is—”

“She's an abomination. But we love her.” Eric cut Callie off as he breezed through the kitchen to grab a package of napkins and head back out front.

“We do love her. But visits from her exhaust me emotionally.”

“Sorry, Cal.” Mike picked up the box and began to herd Claire toward the door. “Why don't you go over to Anne's tonight? She's a mess trying to prepare for the conference, and I know how hanging out together always makes you feel better. Drink wine, eat cupcakes, or do whatever female bonding shit you do.”

“Uncle Mike, the
s
word is a no-thank-you word, 'member?”

Callie laughed at Claire's scolding of Mike. Their sweet little Claire was an original. In Callie's professional opinion Mike and Anne needed to get the child a sibling and quick. In a crowd she was sweet and shy, but around those she was close to she was a little princess herself.

“I seem to use a lot of no-thank-you words,” Mike said quietly before he followed Claire back to the front of the store. He turned to Callie once more at the front door, giving her a serious look. “But seriously, Anne would never say so, but I think she could use a visit. She's stressed, and I'm not good with things I can't fix for her. I'd appreciate you going over and cheering her up.”

Callie groaned. “Why do you have to keep being so perfect? It's really annoying.”

Mike grinned. “I adore you, too, Callie.”

Eric tossed Mike a bottle of chocolate milk for Claire and then before he and Claire left he called over his shoulder, “Thanks, guys. See ya later.”

The door shut behind them and Callie glanced at the clock. “Oh crap!” She ran to the back, untying her flour-dusted apron. “Eric, I'm gonna be late to practice if I don't get out of here.”

The dance team met immediately after school except for Fridays, which were often game days. If it was a home game the team would perform at halftime. Admittedly, this second job had turned out to be a little bit more of a time commitment than Callie had first anticipated, but she was surprised at how much she'd instantly fallen in love with it. So far it was worth the craziness in her life. She figured this was the time. She was young and healthy. Single and definitely not looking. If she was going to live, she intended to live big and stay busy.

Plus it was dance, which had always been her escape. Her life had always been hectic; when she was younger it was schoolwork, pageants, and all the drama that came along with being the daughter of Her Hines and the King of Plungers. No matter how crazy life had been, Callie had always made room for dance, ever since her mother had enrolled her in tap and ballet at the age of three. That had started a lifelong love affair. She loved it all, jazz, modern, even ballroom, which she'd taken in college, where she'd earned a scholarship to be on the university's dance team. Now she'd come full circle, she was teaching, and it was amazing.

Twenty minutes later Callie was in the high school gym breathing in the stench of teenage sweat, hairspray, and Victoria's Secret lotion. But she was happy. The music was pounding, and she was joining her girls in a hard stretch before they practiced their latest routine, the one they'd be performing tomorrow night. She let out a breath and felt all of her stress fade away.

*   *   *

Bennett Clark was late for practice, which really pissed him off, but a student needing some extra help on a homework assignment took precedence over football. For at least a few minutes.

Bennett had texted his assistants to let them know, but he hated to be late. Especially when it was only the third full week of school. These first few weeks of practice were critical, particularly for the new players. It was when the team started to really come together and find their footing as a unit, but more than that, for Bennett it was also vital that he make sure his players understood his expectations for them as athletes and students.

He picked up his pace as he hit the hallway that ran alongside the gym, heading toward the back door leading out to the field. A loud female voice coming from inside the gym caught his attention.

“Ladies, if your rear isn't in the air, this stretch isn't doing anything for your hamstrings. I want your boobs between your thighs.”

Huh?
Bennett came to a complete stop and then slowly peeked into the double doors that led into the massive gymnasium. Thankfully, the girls were all facing the opposite wall, so they couldn't see him. Once again the bossy feminine voice vibrated off every shiny surface.