Wedding Cake Wishes (9 page)

Logan watched for a few seconds longer. Her unwillingness to look him in the eye was telling. “I'm not asking about all single women. Just you.”

Caroline did meet his gaze now, and the stark look in her eyes unnerved him.

“I was engaged once. In college.”

He swallowed. If she'd told him she'd made up the story about her company downsizing and that she'd been fired for incompetence, he wouldn't have been more surprised.

“How is it that I don't already know about this?”

“I didn't tell anyone. Even my sisters.”

That she smiled at the memory made him uncomfortable. He had no claim on her, no right to be jealous of any man in her past or present, but he couldn't deny that he was.

“What happened?” He couldn't resist prodding when she didn't say more. When had he ever been curious enough to know more than the basics about any woman?

“I'll tell you that story someday when we both need a good laugh.”

He would have told her that he could use a laugh now, but he doubted it would get her to say more. He already
knew how stubborn she could be. He should just be satisfied that she'd already shared more with him than she had with anyone, including her sisters.

“Well, Mr. Best Man, I've told you my deep, dark secret, so when are you going to tell me yours?”

“Tell you what?”

“Why you hate weddings.”

“I never—”

She started shaking her head before he could finish. “You said it yourself when Dylan asked you to be in the wedding. I believe you said, ‘You know how much I
love
weddings.'”

“You see. I never said I hate them.” He flashed one of his best smiles, one that would have worked on any woman except Caroline Scott. She just continued watching him, tapping her fingers on the display window.

“Fine. It's not weddings I have a problem with. I just don't have all that much faith in marriage as a long-term institution.”

Caroline seemed to consider what he'd said.

“I can see that your experiences might have led you to believe that,” she began. “Your dad deserted your family, forcing your mom to raise you and your brothers alone. Then Matthew's first wife did the same thing, leaving him with Lizzie when she was just a baby.”

“A couple of good examples, don't you think?” Logan tried not to look uncomfortable as she stated his personal history without so much as flinching. When had he lost the upper hand in this conversation, anyway? He'd done a good job of avoiding talking about his father for years, and he wasn't about to start now.

“Maybe you do have some examples, but are you so cynical that you really believe that Matthew and Haley
won't make it even after Haley adopted Lizzie or that Dylan and Jenna don't have a chance?”

“Jury's still out on both couples,” he said.

“I think they'll surprise you.”

Logan couldn't help but smile over her confidence in their siblings' futures. Who knew that there was a romantic hidden beneath her facade of cynicism? He'd discovered so many unexpected facets to Caroline over these past few weeks. Layers just begging for further study.

That secret engagement of hers was just one of those things. He wanted to know the whole story, whether either of them needed a laugh or not. Mostly he wanted to know why any man who'd been privileged enough to win Caroline's heart would have been so foolish as to let her go.

Somehow though, he doubted that even that answer would be enough to satisfy his need to know everything about her. He watched as Caroline continued on ahead of him toward Markston's only bookstore, A Good Read. When she turned back and caught him watching, a startled expression appeared on her face.

What was he doing? Did he need a reminder of who he was dealing with here? This was Caroline Scott, the only woman he knew who was more opposed to relationships and marriage than he was. Did he need to remember again just how different they were? She had all these big goals that made him think of high-rise buildings and expense accounts when his tastes were simple and his needs were few.

He was on dangerous ground, and he knew it. But it was more than just the possibility that he might be like his father and break someone's heart. He was beginning
to worry about his own heart, as well. No matter how much he tried to keep his distance, she drew him in like a moth to a flame. Like the moth, he might learn the hard way that if he came too close to the flame, he might get burned.

“Y
ou look like a million bucks today.” Trina hurried across the hospital room and bent in front of Amy's wheelchair to kiss her cheek.

“After…taxes,” Amy answered into her hair.

Trina pulled back and gently gripped her friend's upper arms, studying her face. She almost expected to see Amy's mischievous smile as proof that this difficult time had all been a bad dream, but Amy still looked back at her without expression.

Though her heart squeezed with loss, Trina didn't miss a beat. “Well, aren't you just the comedienne?”

“I try.”

Stepping to the wall, Trina pulled a chair over to face the wheelchair where Amy sat for a portion of each morning and afternoon. She sat and took hold of Amy's good hand. She refused to be disappointed. This was an amazing development. Amy had been joking with her. It was a sign that Amy's sense of humor hadn't been a casualty of her stroke as they'd first worried, and Trina couldn't have felt more blessed.

“How many steps did you take today?” Trina repeated
the same question she asked each day on her visits. They always discussed Amy's health first before moving on to a discussion of the bakery.

Amy shook her head. “No. Want to talk…about the wedding.”

“Okay,” Trina said with a chuckle. “I should have known you would be more interested in how the wedding plans were coming.”

“Aren't you?”

“Of course, but I want to know how you're doing, too.” Trina patted her friend's hand. “We want to make sure you're in top form so you can be there.”

“I'll be there.”

“I know you will, and I can't wait.”

Trina filled her in on some of the wedding plans—the dress colors, the music and, of course, the cake. Amy leaned forward in her wheelchair, her eyes almost bright with interest. Her recovery had been coming in small steps, but the upcoming wedding had invigorated her spirit and maybe even her healing process.

“Really…going to happen.”

“The wedding?” Trina was grinning big enough for the both of them. “It sure took Jenna and Dylan long enough to get around to it, but in a few weeks we'll have another married couple on our hands.”

“Matchmakers.”

“Amazing matchmakers.” Still holding Amy's good hand, Trina reached out with her other hand and touched her friend's weaker arm that lay curled against her robe.

“Caroline?”

“She's still searching for that new job, but she's doing okay. She hasn't even complained about being the maid
of honor, and she's been a trooper, dealing with Jenna's fussy planning.”

“Logan?”

“I keep telling you he's fine. He's definitely done you proud at the bakery.”

But she must not have been answering the question the way Amy hoped she would because Amy shook her head. “No. Logan…and the wedding?”

Trina released her friend's hands. “Oh. That. He's an unlikely best man, but he's been a good sport about it.”

“Need to…find matches.”

“And we will in time. For Logan and for Caroline. As soon as you're home, we'll get right back to finding matches for our two remaining single children, but for right now I want you to concentrate on getting better.” Trina gave her biggest grin. “And getting ready for this wedding.”

“Frank Kellam?”

At the name of her fellow church member, Trina blinked. “What? Why are you asking about him? Did he come to visit you?” She shot a glance at the door. “Wait. Did one of our kids say something about him? They were joking about matchmaking, and…”

Trina let her words trail away as she noticed the confusion in Amy's eyes.

“Oh. Were you asking if he and the other church members were invited to the wedding?” When her friend nodded, Trina cleared her throat. “Yes. Dylan and Jenna invited the whole congregation.”

Trina braced herself for more uncomfortable questions, but Amy dropped the subject. She even let Trina comb her hair and use water to make it lie in place. Trina
tried to tell herself she was relieved because she could finally focus on more important matters such as Amy's recovery, but it was more than that and she knew it.

Whether just by accident or with encouragement from their children, Amy had brought up the name of a man who wanted to see her socially. How could any of them think she might be ready to date him or any man?

Well, she wasn't ready and doubted she ever would be. Only a little more than two years had passed since Gary's death. She was no romantic, but even she understood that lifetime love only happened once in a lifetime. Memories were a poor substitute for his sturdy arms around her, but she'd learned to live with them, and she wished the others would just leave her alone.

As Trina rubbed lotion on her friend's hands, she felt as if her heart was breaking. This was the kind of problem she would have shared with her best friend. Amy would have understood why Trina couldn't even fathom the idea of spending time with another man, how it would feel like she was betraying Gary and the life they'd built together.

But she couldn't talk to Amy about this, not when Amy's challenges were so much more significant, her hurdles towering over Trina's mere bumps in the road of life. That she couldn't share thoughts like these only made her hurt feel more profound. Her friend with whom she'd shared a lifetime of memories was in some ways absent from her life.

Her reasons were selfish, perhaps, but she was even more determined to find that friend again, more important, to help Amy find herself. Trina could worry about her own social life later.

 

Caroline had just finished inputting the week's receipts into the software program when a commotion of loud voices and clanging pans started in the kitchen. She leaped out of her rolling chair so quickly that she made a bang of her own when it rolled backward and crashed into the filing cabinet. Not bothering to stop and right the chair, she rushed out the door and down the short hall to the kitchen.

“What's going on in here?”

The kitchen looked like a disaster with used cake pans and utensils filling the sink and counters still decorated with colorful splatters of frosting. Caroline didn't have to cross the floor to guess that her shoes would stick to it when she did.

“We're celebrating,” Logan announced and then did a drumbeat on a cake pan with a rubber spatula. “We just delivered the last wedding cake for June, and we got it there in one piece despite a pothole the size of Texas on the corner of Washington and Drake.”

Kamie crossed the room, pounding one of the beaters from the industrial-sized mixer against the inside of a steel bowl. She didn't seem to mind that they'd had to stay almost to dinnertime to finish the last cake for an evening wedding.

“We survived wedding month,” Kamie said.

“Yeah, we made it,” Margie cheered. “We even have new orders for nearly every weekend through Christmas.”

“Did any of you ever doubt it?” Caroline asked and then held up her hand. “No. Don't answer that. Anyway, I'm sure Mrs. Warren will be proud of everyone's hard work.”

“She'll be especially proud of you two,” Kamie said when she stopped pounding.

“Well, thank you, Kamie.” Logan smiled at both of the decorators.

As he moved to the sink to start rinsing the pans and placing them in the dish sanitizer, Logan exchanged a look with Caroline and grinned. She couldn't help smiling back at him. If there was one thing she could say about Logan, it was that he had an ability to win over his critics, including her.

“You ladies have done a great job today. If you want to get out of here, I'll clean up the mess and lock up for the night,” he said.

“That sounds like a great idea to me,” Margie said. She linked her arm though Kamie's, and the two of them hurried out the back door.

Caroline stared after them before turning back to Logan. “Well, you didn't have to tell them twice.”

“Aren't you going with them? This is going to take a while.”

“I figured you could use the help.” At his skeptical glance, she added, “And my calendar is pretty clear.”

It was about as good as any excuse she'd used so many evenings lately to hang out with him at the bakery. They'd worked together every night they weren't visiting his mother in the long-term rehabilitation center or attending the cake-decorating class. She appreciated that every night he pretended to be surprised to see her.

This time he pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. “I'm sure Jenna can find you some chore to do for the wedding. Maybe you can help her pick table decorations and party favors or something.”

“Oh, no thank you. I'll just suffer through doing the cleaning here.”

Caroline expected Logan to kid her about her lack of plans on a Saturday night, but he only returned to rinsing the pans. To make herself useful, she started collecting some of the empty decorator bags and tips.

“It looks like there was a tornado in here.”

“It was crazy when we were trying to get those three cakes out.”

“We?” She raised a brow. They'd only had a few sessions of their cake-decorating class so far. He'd already proven he was skilled at piping, and his crumb coats weren't half-bad, but had he already been brave enough to try out his skills on a real wedding cake?

Logan shook his head. “I just supervised. I haven't let the ladies in on our little secret yet.”

Caroline wasn't sure why, but it pleased her that he'd referred to the cake-decorating class as
their
secret instead of only his. For reasons she didn't want to analyze, she liked the idea that the project belonged to the two of them. “But you do seem to have finally won over all the employees.”

“You think so? I knew my charms would eventually get through to them. They always work on women.”

He flashed Caroline a dimpled smile that would have done the trick if all of Logan's hard work hadn't already convinced the critics to come over to his side.

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Logan.”

“Well, not every woman…but most.”

Though she shook her head over his silliness, she couldn't help but smile. He was probably right. Most. Even those who'd promised themselves they would re main immune to his charms. Definitely most.

“Wait a minute,” she said as realization dawned. “It's Saturday night. This is the second time I've seen you here on a Saturday night when you could have been out on a date.”

“What's wrong with that? You're here.”

“I'm not ‘Logan-the-lady-killer.'”

She cringed after she said it but felt even more uncomfortable when he didn't say anything. With dread she turned back to him, and, as she'd predicted, he was grinning at her.

“‘Logan-the-lady-killer,' huh?”

“That's what your brothers call you.”

“They do?”

He tilted his head back and forth as if trying on the name for the first time. A disturbing feeling settled inside her gut as she remembered “Ranger Logan,” one of Logan's other nicknames that hadn't been quite accurate.

“I suppose it fits as long as you don't take it literally.” The side of Logan's mouth lifted. “Those women were very much alive when I took them home. If anything happened to them after I left, well, I…”

“Very funny. You know what I meant.”

“Okay, I've dated a lot of women. But in my defense I can say that I haven't treated them as ruthlessly as that name suggests.” He must have read her confusion because he explained, “I'm not much for second dates.”

Strange how his clarification confused her even more. She'd always thought of him as someone like Kevin, who broke hearts for sport, but it didn't sound as if he ever became invested enough to hurt anyone.

“But you always had dates whenever we tried to make
Warren-Scott family plans,” she began, trying to sound casual. “And then lately…”

“I know. I haven't lived up to my rep. I've had more important stuff on my mind these last few weeks.”

“You have been pretty focused on being there for your mom and running her business.”

She waited for him to say more, but he only nodded and then started toward the storage room. Pulling out the bottle of disinfectant, she sprayed the counter and started wiping. From behind her, she could hear Logan returning, pulling the squeaky-wheeled bucket and mop along with him.

“It's more than that.”

“What?” Caroline turned to find him using the wringer to squeeze water from the mop.

“The reason I've been taking a break from the dating scene.”

“But you did go on a date that one Sunday afternoon—” Though Caroline stopped herself, it wasn't soon enough to keep Logan from looking at her strangely.

“You remember that? It was more a date with a place than a person. I'll have to take you there someday.”

Instead of saying more, Logan wrung out the mop again and started washing the floor near the ovens.

“Now wait a minute,” she said. “I get the feeling you were just about to tell me something momentous.”

“Oh,” Logan said, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

Caroline planted her hands on her hips. “Are you kidding? This might be the most fascinating tidbit I've ever learned about the infamous Logan Warren, and if you think I'm going to let it go now, then you obviously don't know how determined I can be.”

“Believe me, I know.” He dropped the mop back
in the bucket and blew out a heavy breath. “I'm just tired.”

“Why didn't you say so? Go home. I can do all this.”

But he started shaking his head. “No, I mean that's why I'm stepping back from dating. I'm tired of a lot of things. Of too many first dates. Of trying to impress women instead of really getting to know them. Even of not having anyone I can call when I get home at night.”