Batter Up (Bachelors of Buttermilk Falls Book 1) (3 page)

J
ason hopped
out of the shower and grabbed the crisp white towel he’d set on the bathroom counter, wiping the moist drops from his face. Sleeping in this morning was exactly what he needed. He’d thought he’d heard someone knocking on the door earlier, but he just couldn’t drag himself out of bed to see who it was.

Feeling invigorated, he now needed to get a move on it. There was a lot of ground to cover.

First, he needed to check in with his editor. Tina had approved his trip to Buttermilk Falls. She’d laughed the whole time and said if he didn’t file the story by Friday, she was sending the men in white coats.

He wasn’t crazy—or was he? It was only two days ago that he’d sat in the tacky Vegas wedding chapel listening to Tom go on and on about some magical cake spell predicting that Bridget would be his wife. It was the wackiest story he’d ever heard, but nevertheless, intriguing. So much so, he wanted to learn more, if not fully get to the bottom of it.

Plus, he wasn’t really in any hurry to head back to his life in Miami. Truth be told, he’d been thinking of leaving South Florida for some time. Sure, he loved his waterfront condo on South Beach, but being there also reminded him of the life he’d lost.

Buttermilk Falls was a nice change of pace. It reminded him of the time he spent in New England for journalism school. Although it was no Beantown, the town did appear to have a subtle charm from what he’d seen. Perhaps this place could give him some clarity, or at the very least, provide a nice break from the city. If he wrote the article fairly quick, he could spend the rest of the week fishing or hiking the nearby hills.

Tom had mentioned that the view of the falls from the hilltop was spectacular. He’d enjoy a good solitary hike on a beautiful summer day. Although, he’d have to buy some hiking shoes. The current contents in his suitcase were more suitable for a night out in Sin City than the outdoors.

His stomach let out a large growl. Before he did anything today, he needed some fuel. Then he would begin exploring Buttermilk Falls and one bakery in particular—the Powdered Fork or Peppermint Stick or something. He couldn’t actually recall its name, but how many bakeries could be in this blip of a town anyway?

He dressed hurriedly in jeans and a white T-shirt and headed to the kitchen. His eye caught the backside of his new roommate crouched down in front of the opened refrigerator. She was dressed in a long, light blue shirt that he immediately recognized. He suspected there wasn’t much else on underneath the fabric.

“Hey.”

“Jason!” Caitlin sprung up and shut the refrigerator. “Did I wake you? I was just getting a snack.” She batted her eyelashes in his direction and pointed to a bowl filled with strawberries. With a mischievous smile, she held up a can of whipped cream.

“No. I was in the shower.” He went over to the coffee maker. The strong aroma of a freshly brewed pot filled his nostrils.

“What are your plans for today?”

“I was going to head to town. Do a little work.”

“On Sunday?” She crinkled her nose. “That doesn’t sound like fun.”

“The news never takes a day off.” He grabbed one of the strawberries and took a bite. The juice burst in his mouth. “Say, where’s a quiet place to grab a little lunch?”

“Oh, that’s easy. The Star Lite diner. They have the best burgers. Their BBB Burger is to die for.”

“BBB?”

“Blueberry, bacon, and blue cheese.”

He grinned wryly. Somehow, he doubted Caitlin Reynolds kept that body in shape by downing BBB Burgers . . . or maybe that was her secret.

“Yep. It’s a couple miles down the road. Once you exit Lake Drive, take your first left at the red light into town. It will be on your right. There’s a big star on the diner.”

“Sounds charming.”

She grabbed two bottles of water and the bowl of strawberries from the kitchen island, lodging the can of whipped cream under her arm. “Energy for later.” She winked and headed down the hallway.

Jason smirked. “Tell Brandon I said, ‘Hi.’”

Caitlin waved and disappeared behind the bedroom door. He suspected his buddy’s blue shirt would be off in seconds. He laughed. Time to leave before he had to listen to round three or four—he’d lost count.

He looked around for his car rental keys. The kitchen was decorated with country knickknacks and reminded him of his mother’s old place in Charlotte, North Carolina. He missed her. She had passed away from a heart attack when he was in graduate school.

He was happy that Caitlin had so readily offered up her family’s lakeside cottage to Jason immediately upon hearing he was interested in visiting Buttermilk Falls. Brandon didn’t hesitate to extend his own vacation a few days.

Jason looked again out at the lake, the water glistening in the sun. It would be nice to have a fishing buddy. He chuckled. That is, if Caitlin let Brandon out of the bedroom.

He thought about the reason that brought him here. It was pretty impulsive—to chase after a highly improbable story.

The way Tom and Bridget had gotten together sounded preposterous. Come on. Cake batter prophesized their union? Yet, Bridget’s bridesmaids had each confirmed Tom’s story that some woman named Emma did it, and that she does it all the time.

The next day, Jason booked two tickets to Syracuse, New York, an hour’s drive to Buttermilk Falls. Brandon and he met the wedding party in Chicago and picked up the final flight to Syracuse together. Fourteen hours after leaving Las Vegas, they were in small-town America. Not a neon light, stripper, or Elvis impersonator in sight.

Caitlin had said it was no problem for Brandon and him to stay at her family’s cottage. Her parents were traveling throughout Europe for the summer and, according to her, would rather have guests in the lakeside cottage than leave it empty.

So here he was. This unexpected detour seemed surreal and a bit stupid if Jason was really honest. He was an award-winning, just-the-facts journalist. Yet, now, he was chasing a story that was downright illogical. Maybe his angle should be how some woman had managed to dupe an entire town into believing her magical cake could determine their fate. “Magical cake is my evidence?” he muttered. Had his career just nose-dived?

E
mma pulled
her silver Toyota into the Star Lite diner and maneuvered into her usual space. The car was on its last leg, and Emma had been saving since January to buy a new one. Hopefully, she’d have enough for a healthy down payment in the next month or two.

Grabbing her tan hobo purse from the passenger seat and her newspaper, she hopped out of the car. The parking lot was practically deserted. Since most of the Sunday brunch crowd had cleared out, she’d have the small restaurant virtually to herself.

“Well, there she is.” Mel, the owner and cook, gave her a warm greeting as she walked in the door. He looked down from his bifocals. “My, you get prettier and prettier every week.”

“Mel, you’re such a charmer.” She laughed. She loved this place. With its fun fifties-style décor, it was the cutest establishment in Buttermilk Falls, besides the Sugar Spoon, of course. Having brunch here was just as much a part of her Sunday ritual as sitting on her deck and watching the sun rise over the lake.

She’d been coming to this diner every Sunday since she was thirteen. She knew it was silly, and she always left a bit disappointed, but it was something she needed to do.

One evening, years ago, Emma had overheard her mother talking to her Aunt Jackie about a premonition she’d had. They’d thought Emma was asleep. The premonition was that one day someone Emma loved would step off the bus and back into her life. It had to be her dad.

Her father had left her mother before Emma was born, disappearing without a trace. Emma’s mom tried finding him, even hired a private detective. He’d never turned up.

Emma remembered overhearing her mother’s premonition as if it were yesterday.

Her mother said it would happen at two p.m. on a Sunday. Emma’s mother even told her Aunt Jackie what table in the Star Lite Emma was sitting at in her premonition and that she’d be reading a newspaper. That table was now unofficially “her table” at two o’clock every Sunday as she waited for the afternoon bus to arrive while reading the paper that she never forgot to bring with her. She hadn’t missed a Sunday in fifteen years, except for holidays when the diner was closed.

She’d never told her mother she’d overheard the conversation. No. She kept that secret to herself all these years, wishing every, single Sunday that it would be the day her mother’s premonition came true.

Michael was the only person she’d confided in. He had thought her Sunday ritual was a waste of time and a bit naïve. In hindsight, that should have been a huge clue that he was all wrong for her.

“Emma!” An old woman wearing a bright red apron and matching lipstick greeted her with a hug. “Good to see you, dear. How’s your mom?”

“As great as ever, Betty.”

“Glad to hear it. We’ve been worried about her after her fall. Someone needs to do something about those steps.”

Emma shook her head. Betty was referring to her mother’s recent accident, in which she’d taken a tumble on the steep stairs to the post office and broke her foot. “She’s getting better. Aunt Jackie brought her over to my cottage this morning to make a batch of chocolate chip cookies.”

“Splendid! I knew she’d be back to baking before long. Those cookies are a dream. I need to get her to give me the recipe.” She winked.

“Good luck with that. She won’t even share it with me. Says I’ll only sell them in the bakery, and they’re way too good to put a price tag on.” She also suspected her mother enchanted them in some way, but she couldn’t prove it. Emma proceeded to her table. Halfway there, she stopped in her tracks. A man wearing jeans and a white T-shirt hovered over a laptop. He had short black hair and, from what she could tell, was tall, thin, and quite attractive. He held a coffee cup close to his lips.

“You okay, sweetie.” Betty came up behind her. “Oh, shoot. I didn’t realize he was still here. It’s been almost three hours.”

“That’s fine. I’ll just ask him if he wouldn’t mind moving to another booth.” Men in this town always did the polite thing when a pretty woman asked. She looked down at her iPhone. It was 1:55 p.m. She needed to hurry.

Emma walked up to the stranger and opened her mouth. His masculine cologne filled her lungs. “Excuse me.” He looked up and she could see his phone glued to his ear.

His gorgeous ocean-blue eyes sent a tingling sensation through her, nearly knocking her over. Emma steadied her legs. “I’m so sorry to interrupt. This is going to sound funny, but would you mind if we traded tables?” She pointed to an empty booth behind him.

“Sorry? You need me to move?” He put the phone back to his ear, not taking his eyes off Emma. “Hold on, Tina.”

“Yes, I sit here every Sunday.”

He glanced around at the empty tables and booths in the restaurant. “And you can’t sit at any of those?”

“No.” She realized she sounded a little OCD but didn’t care. “It has to be this one,” she said meekly.

“I see. Listen, I’m on an important call. You’ll need to sit somewhere else today.” The stranger turned back to his laptop, completely ignoring her. He continued his phone conversation.

Emma huffed. Was he really not going to move? He clearly didn’t belong in Buttermilk Falls. Guys from this town never displayed such rudeness.

“Fine.” She slid into the booth behind him, opened her paper, and stared out the window. The view from her new vantage point would be fine, but that was hardly the point. It wasn’t her table. It wasn’t the place that her father would see her outside the window and recognize his daughter.

Who the hell did this egotistic out-of-towner think he was? She cocked her head and studied his backside. He didn’t look familiar. Maybe he was someone’s distant relative just passing through.

She scooted all the way inside the booth to get a better look out the window. It was one minute to two o’clock. She held her breath and watched. A minute later she let it out and frowned. The scene outside was always the same.

Disappointed, she glanced one last time at the stranger. He stood and gave her a smug smile. “Table’s free.”

“No, thanks.” Stupid ass. “Say, how do you feel about the color green?”

“Sorry?”

“Oh, nothing.” She narrowed her eyes and sipped her coffee, watching him pay his check. Too bad she couldn’t channel her deceased grandmother and turn this handsome jerk into a frog.

E
mma slid
into her car and reached in her visor for her black sunglasses. Another Monday. Luckily, her shift didn’t start until noon. It was Abby’s turn to open the bakeshop, a nice opportunity for Emma to do some work around the house. Even though the calendar said July 22, she still hadn’t pulled all her summer clothes out of storage. Feeling accomplished, she headed to work.

Pulling out, she glanced over at the cottage next door and shook her head. Caitlin’s black BMW sat in the driveway. It had sat there all weekend. Still no sign of the mystery bachelor her arch rival had managed to snag. God knows what they were doing inside.

She hoped he wasn’t any of the guys who would stop by tonight. The last thing she wanted was to see Caitlin’s name swirling in her batter.

Not that she had much control over the matter. The enchanted mixture seemed to have a mind of its own. It had been two months since the mysterious letter
J
incident. It hadn’t made sense that night, and it still didn’t. Emma chalked it up to Abby being a beginner.

She drove down the gravel path to the main road that took her to the heart of town. Five minutes later, she pulled into the Sugar Spoon. It was another gorgeous summer day with highs in the mid-eighties. Not a cloud in the sky.

Their customers were enjoying the new patio furniture she and Abby had purchased last month. She waved to Mr. and Mrs. Davis, an elderly couple who always stopped by the bakery for a sweet treat after lunch at the Star Lite. They’d been married for over fifty years, and Emma was pretty sure Mr. Davis had been one of her grandmother’s first bachelors to benefit from Batter Up back in the day.

She parked in the back next to Abby’s blue Honda Civic and entered through the bakery’s rear door. Abby came barreling over, her eyes wide.

“Emma! Finally! I’ve been waiting for you to get here.”

“Someone’s excited.” She cocked an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Wait till you get a load of the guy sitting at the counter.” Abby reached into her apron pocket, pulled out a tube of lip gloss, and rolled it over her lips.

“Who?”

“This incredibly, drop-dead gorgeous man.” She grabbed a spoon, checked her reflection, and ran a finger over the gloss. “Like amazingly hot.”

Emma laughed. “Oh, my. A sexy guy in our bakery? Whatever should we do? Call the police?”

“I know what I’d like to do and it definitely could involve handcuffs.” Abby leaned back on the sink, fanning her face.

“Seriously, Abs, you’re acting like you’ve never seen a cute guy before.” Emma turned her back to her cousin and began inspecting her weekly inventory.

“Not one like this. He’s definitely not from around here.” She pushed off the sink. “Wait till you get a load of him. His blue eyes . . . wow!”

Blue eyes
. Emma froze and turned to face her cousin. “How blue?”

Abby smirked. “As blue as Buttermilk Lake.”

Emma crossed the kitchen and pushed the door open just a crack. The pit in her stomach grew larger by the second. Sure enough. The rude stranger from the Star Lite was sitting at her counter. This time he had on a black polo that showed off his muscular, tanned arms. “Just great,” she said flatly.

“What, you know him?” Abby crossed her arms. “I still call dibs.”

Emma scoffed. “You can have him. He’s an ass.” She moved back inside the kitchen and reached for her pink gingham apron hanging on a hook. Tying the pink belt behind her back, her heart beat loudly against the fabric. “How long has he been here?”

“About twenty minutes.”

“Has he ordered?”

“Only a chocolate chip muffin and coffee. Said he’s saving room for a cupcake.”

“He is, is he?” Emma’s eyes narrowed. Time to find out what the annoying stranger wanted. If her suspicions were right, it wasn’t good. She squared her shoulders and exited the kitchen, walking over to Mr. Jerk. He was bent down, typing away on his laptop. Did he take that stupid thing everywhere he went?

“What can I get you, sir?”

He looked up, and she could tell he instantly recognized her from the Star Lite. “We meet again.” He tossed her a crooked grin.

She caught it and heaved it back with a fake smile of her own. “So we do.”

“It’s okay if I sit here?” He pointed down at his barstool. “It’s not reserved, is it?”

Agitation crept up the back of her neck. “Only for paying customers who aren’t incessantly rude.” She looked around the bakery. “But since you’re the only one in here, what can I get you?”

“Are you Emma Stevens?”

“Yes.” How did he know her name? Did Abby tell him?

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jason.” He extended his hand.

The moment she took it, an electric shock went straight through her. She instantly pulled her hand away, tucking it inside her apron pocket. She rubbed her fingers against the lining, trying to get the remnants of his touch off of her. Her fingers still tingled. “Are you interested in something from the bakery?”

“I thought I’d get a cupcake.” He grinned and leaned forward, propping his elbow up and cupping his chin with his hand. He whispered, “You know. A magical one.”

Emma took a step back. Who the hell was this guy and what was he up to? He obviously was referring to the batter but had no idea what he was talking about. Why was he snooping? She glanced down at his laptop.

She needed to play it cool. It wasn’t the first time nosy outsiders had tried to get the story on the bakeshop’s Monday night activity. She knew exactly what to do. “You’ve come to the right place, Mr.?”

“Levine.”

“Mr. Levine. Are you from around here?”

“No, just in town for a week.”

“I see. Well, it’ll take a few minutes.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world.”

I bet you do.
She sauntered into the kitchen. Out of sight, she dashed into her office.

“What’s going on?” Abby set two cupcake tins in the oven and closed the door.

“I’m about to find out.” Emma turned on her computer and sat down. Within seconds, she typed in “Jason Levine.” A slew of links appeared from the
Miami Herald
. She clicked on the top one and blew out a breath. “I knew it! He’s a flippin’ reporter. Why that little weasel.”

Abby looked over her shoulder as they both stared at the handsome headshot of the man currently sitting at the counter in the Sugar Spoon. “Figures. Look at that photo. He’s damn sexy.” She sighed and flopped down on Emma’s comfy beige sofa. “There’s no way he’s single.”

Emma sprang up and headed to the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Abby called out before following Emma back into the kitchen.

Grabbing a mixing bowl and ingredients, Emma set them down and got to work. “Our arrogant and nosy reporter wants a magical cupcake. Let’s give him one.” She began sifting flour into the bowl. “Abby, go talk to him. Find out what you can. Talk loud so I can hear everything he says.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Abby saluted and left the kitchen. Seconds later, she began completing Emma’s order. “So handsome stranger, what brings you to these parts?” She raised her voice so Emma could hear.

Emma stirred the mixture, both ears concentrating on the conversation between Abby and Jason. He didn’t say much, only that he was in town visiting friends, was enjoying Buttermilk Falls, and had heard about Emma’s specialty. He had a sweet tooth and couldn’t wait to try one.

“So, are you single?” Abby asked.

Emma’s ears perked up, but she didn’t hear Jason’s response.

She couldn’t believe a reporter from the
Miami Herald
was in her bakeshop. Sure, other reporters had tried to get the scoop on her matchmaking skills, but no one from such a large newspaper. The fact that this guy asked for a magical cupcake was bad, very bad. He knew something. She needed to get him out of her bakery—luckily, she had added just the right ingredient that would do exactly that.

Smiling down at the mixture, she sauntered out of the kitchen with the mixing bowl and wooden spoon in hand. It wasn’t her grandmother’s spoon. She wouldn’t need it for this batch. “Mr. Levine, who told you about my special cupcakes?” She continued to mix the batter. “I’d like to thank them.”

“Tom and Bridget Reed.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. That certainly wasn’t the answer she expected. “How do you know Tom and Bridget?”

Jason chuckled. “I was at their wedding.”

“Really? In Las Vegas?” She highly doubted her high school friends knew this pompous ass, let alone invited him to their wedding. At least, she hoped not.

“Yep.” He reached down and grabbed his phone from the counter. Touching his screen, he held it up so Emma could see. “Check it out.”

Sure enough, there was Bridget centered between Jason and some guy she didn’t recognize.

Next to Jason was Caitlin Reynolds, with her bony arms draped around him and Tom.

A wave of nausea threatened to knock her over. Oh, God. Was this the stranger who Caitlin was currently shacking up with? Her mom had said he was handsome, and there was no denying Jason Levine was indeed attractive. She’d even seen dimples in his smile.
Play it cool, Emma. Play it cool.

She spooned up a huge dollop of batter. “So, Jason. Are you ready?” She asked in a suggestive voice.

“Sure.” He closed his laptop. His eyes danced with amusement.

“Here’s what I need you to do. Close your eyes.”

He obediently shut them. Emma couldn’t help but take this opportunity to stare at his handsome face. Her eyes lingered on his full lips.
Stop it, Emma. He’s the enemy.

“Everything okay?” Jason opened one eye.

“Keep both eyes closed.” She reached for his hand and inserted the spoon. “Repeat after me. ‘Batter I’m about to taste. Show me my true love, do not haste.’”

Abby giggled. Emma put her finger to her lips, motioning her cousin to be quiet.

Jason repeated the chant, eyes still closed. “Now what?”

“You eat the spoonful. You have to do it in one large swallow, got it?”

“Okay, easy enough.” He shoved the spoon in his mouth. Within seconds, his eyes flew open and he reached for his throat, gasping for air. “Water,” he choked out.

Abby rushed over with a water pitcher and glass. He drank the full glass and demanded another. His eyes red and watery. Little droplets of sweat began to form on his forehead.

Emma smiled and picked up the mixing bowl, hugging it tight to her chest. “I think you should leave now. This stool is no longer available.”

Jason stood and shook his head. “You got me good, Ms. Stevens.” He grabbed his laptop and started for the door, still coughing.

Abby rushed over and handed him a bottle of water. “For the road.”

“Thanks.”

Turning back to Emma, she grinned. Something was forming in her cousin’s pretty little head. “So, Jason, does anyone call you
J
?”

“What?” Jason turned around. He twisted the bottle cap and took a large swallow.

“You know. Just by your initial?” She handed him a napkin.

“My mom did.” He took another drink and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“I see.” Abby shot Emma a smug expression.

Emma walked over and crossed her arms, her voice firm and in control. “Get out of my bakery, Mr. Levine. There’s no story here.”