Courtship of the Cake (21 page)

GOSSIP GIRLS

“Nash.” I gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Nash, time to get up. First day of school.” I'd already been downstairs and Logan was a fireball of energy, excited to start fourth grade. Quinn was flitting back and forth like a bird building a nest as she simultaneously packed a brown-bag lunch for him and set the table for the Boo-hoo Breakfast. Mick was readying food for half a dozen women, and Bear was serenading everyone with Elton John songs in preparation for his Elton “tribute” that night.

My job was to rouse the sleeping giant. I gave Nash's shoulder a gentle kneading

He started, then rolled over. “Mmm-hmm.”

“Come on. You don't want to miss the bus.”

No answer.

“Nash.”

His lips communed with the pillow. “You go. I'm not invited to the Boob Breakfast, remember?”

“It's Boo-hoo. And I know. But you could come see your son off on the first day of school.”

Nash sat straight up in bed like a horror flick zombie. He tamped down his rumpled hair with shaky fingers. “How late were we up last night?”

“I don't know. Maybe two o'clock?” He'd reached for me in the small hours, which was often when the pain decided to make its presence known.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Fucking flare-up.”

“It's okay. That's what I'm here for.” I opened the curtains to let in the eastern light, and Nash hissed like a vampire being disturbed in his crypt. “I hope that's not the beginnings of iritis,” I said, running a gentle hand over his brow and inspecting his reddened eyes.

“Eye-right-huh? What the fuck is that?”

“Severe sensitivity to light.” I handed him his sunglasses from the bedside table. “It often comes and goes with the AS flare-ups.”

“Gee,” he said sarcastically, cramming a ball cap on his bed-head as well. “This condition is the gift that keeps on giving, isn't it?”

•   •   •

“Well, well. Look who decided to grace us with his presence,” Quinn said, hand on the front doorknob, as we descended the grand staircase. Logan gave a grin and two thumbs up, which caused a shift in his center of gravity due to his enormous backpack. He almost went over like a turtle on his shell. Bear began strumming and singing “I'm Still Standing.”

Nash ignored her comment, choosing to smile at Logan instead. I'd reminded him of the importance of facial expressions, especially since he couldn't sign. Yet. “How about I walk him down to the bus stop, Quinn?”

“How about we both do?” she said through gritted teeth. “Seeing
as I haven't missed doing it once these last five years.” She bared her fist, which held a camera.

“Ah yes. Another Kodak moment.” Nash bent down next to Logan and they both mugged for the camera, leaving Quinn no choice but to snap a few shots of them.

“A disguise, really? The ball cap and the shades are probably going to attract more attention than your rock star self. Who are you afraid of?” She rolled her eyes. “Groupie bus drivers?”

“Let's rock and roll, kid.”

Logan waved back to Mick and me before turning to march proudly between both his parents down the long walkway. Bear trailed behind them with his acoustic, crooning “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.”

Mick laughed and shook his head. “Now
that's
a Kodak moment. How'd you manage to get him out of bed before eight?”

“My powers of persuasion, I guess,” I said, suddenly very aware that he and I were alone in a very, very large house. With a lot of rooms to get lost in.

He shot me a look that sent my mind reeling back to my fantasies of him last night. God. Any alone time with Mick was just fueling my pathetic imagination.

“Need help in the kitchen?” I mumbled.

“I've got it under control,” he said, resting a hand on the curved banister.

If I took one more step down, I'd be in his arms. If I hightailed it up the stairs, he might give chase. The thought of that practically buckled my knees.

“Are you staying through the breakfast?” I asked.

Mick laughed. “That's one wall I have no desire to be a fly on. Besides, I have to get down to the bakery. Which reminds me . . . we need to set a date. For you and Nash to come in and choose a cake. You are going to take me up on my offer, right?”

Dessert wasn't the only offer I wanted to take Mick up on. But with Nash's ring on my finger and his well-being on my mind, any indulgence on my part was severely restricted.

For all intents and purposes, you're off the market.

Mick's off the menu.

His hand slid up the banister, on a dangerous crash collision course toward mine, but I stood my ground and refused to meet his eyes. It wasn't fair for him to do this, not when the rest of the inn's residents were just a few steps down the walkway.

“Why are you torturing me?” I said softly.

“Girl, you don't know what torture is. Last night—”

“Enough, Bear!” Quinn marched through the front door and straight into the kitchen to ready herself for the women about to descend. Her brother busted in next, singing “I Guess That's Why They Call It the Blues” in his smooth baritone. His fingers changed chords easily as he made his way up the stairs past us with a grin.

I swept my hand over Mick's as I descended to meet Nash at the door. It had been an innocent-looking move, but I hope it sent him the message loud and clear that I was moving past him, moving on.

I needed to.

Now if only I could convince myself of that. The thought made me want to weep.

I was going to fit right in at that Boo-hoo Breakfast.

•   •   •

The delicious scents emanating from the breakfast room competed against the bevy of women arriving in a cloud of perfume, waving their hands and air-kissing each other hello. Quinn let her best friend Lizzie, a cute cheerleader type with an upturned nose and sweet voice, introduce me to the rest of the gang, whose names I promptly forgot.

“See, we used to get together and cry, back when all our kids started
kindergarten. Now,” a buxom redhead said, reaching for the pitcher of mimosas Mick had prepared earlier. “We send them off and it's like ‘There's the sweet sound of the school bus! Time to pour me a drink!'”

“I'm an honorary Boo-hoo,” hollered Lizzie, who was single but invited every year due to her BFF status, “but for the rest of you ladies' sanity, I'll drink to that!”

The other ladies all laughed and clinked their glasses. “None for me,” called the blonde with the baby attached on her hip. “Still breastfeeding this little guy.”

“Quinn, sit,” I said as she whirled by me like the Tasmanian Devil character in the old cartoons. “Visit with your friends. Let me serve.”

“Everything's all set,” Quinn said breathlessly. “Mick set things up buffet-style before he and Nash hightailed it out of here to keep their manhood intact.”

The thought of Mick and Nash out together threw me, but I shook off the uneasy feeling. They had been friends much longer than I had been in the picture for either of them. And like I had conveyed to Mick at Logan's party, I didn't want to make any waves.

Now if only Mick would quit rocking the damn boat.

The women dug into Mick's feast like they hadn't eaten all summer, oohing and aahing over his culinary prowess. I had no doubt it was the kind of praise he ate up with a spoon, so to speak.

“Those cupcakes for Logan's party looked ah-MAY-zing!” Lizzie singsonged. “I can't wait to see what Mick comes up with for Zena's bridal shower.”

“Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll pop out of her cake,” drawled the redhead, a wicked smile teasing her lips. “Oh come on,” she countered the clucks and groans from her gaggle of friends with a shrug of her bony shoulders. “Like none of you have fantasized about that? I guess I'm the only one brave enough to say it.”

“I'm still fantasizing about that naked cake Mick made for Jessie Zuckerman's wedding . . . remember, with the raspberry
buttercream?” The blonde named Beth rearranged her drape with a sigh and shifted her baby underneath from Boob A to Boob B.

“Please.” Lizzie fanned herself. “Don't mention ‘Mick' and ‘naked' in the same sentence! Mylanta, that man can clog my arteries any day of the week!”

The walls reverberated with another round of their squeals.

“You know Sarah sampled the goods that night, right?” I couldn't decide which woman I hated more right now, the faceless Sarah, or the gloating redhead who was gossiping about her.

“Julia!” scolded the blonde, frowning over the downy head of her breastfeeding baby. “Don't kiss and tell for someone else.” Turning to me, she said, “Dani, don't let us scare you off. We're horrible when we all get together.”

“Please, Beth. She's engaged to Nash. I don't think she scares easily.” Lizzie gave me a conspiratorial wink, and I decided I liked her.

Julia's lips curled as her eyes drifted coolly over me, coming to rest on the rock on my finger. Something told me she might have been guilty of sampling the goods of the musician who had put it there.

“I can't believe Nash decided to settle . . .” Her voice dwindled to a bitter finish. “. . . down.”

Kindness. Kill 'em with kindness. And small talk.

“So, Julia. How long have you been married?” I asked, resting my chin in my hand and making sure my ring was in full view. If I tilted it just right and caught the sunlight, maybe I would blind her.

“A year next month,” she said haughtily. “Jimmy's my second husband. We're still in the”—she air-quoted and rolled her eyes—“‘honeymoon phase.' Please. I just wanted a guy who could snake my drain and de-clutter my gutters.” All the women tittered. “Luckily, all it usually takes is a six-pack and the shooting range to keep him satisfied when I don't feel in the mood.”

“No new babies for you two?” Beth asked, moving her little one up to her shoulder and patting a healthy burp out of him.

“No way. Gloria's almost a teen, and she was handful enough. Keep your diapers, thank you.”

“How about you, Dani?” Lizzie asked. “Think you and Nash will start a family?”

I just about choked on my mimosa. Out of all the wacky scenarios that had paraded through my brain since this charade began, I hadn't dreamed up the event where I might need a party line for such a question. “Well, he . . . we . . . are just getting to know Logan, who is so amazing. I think he wants to make up for a bit of lost time there . . . plus all the touring.”
And the drinking and the boning on the side
, I thought, but refrained from voicing it. “We are just having fun planning the wedding.”

“I've totally planned mine; it's all up on Pinterest,” Lizzie sighed. “Now I just gotta find me a groom.” That got a howl from the other girls.

“Well, the cake's a no-brainer,” Julia said. “You just sit back and let that fine man down at the Night Kitchen do all the work.” She sat back and rubbed her Spanx-smooth tummy, then leaned forward and said conspiratorially, “Here's the thing about Mick. He asks you what you'd like, he listens to your wishes, and then he fulfills your wildest dreams. How many men actually
do
that in real life?” She gave a wink all around. “Given the chance, I'd like to do—”

“Do what?” Quinn asked, finally plopping down with a cup of tea in her hand. “Please tell me you're not drooling over Mick Spencer.” She shook her head. “Ever since he came back from New Orleans, he's been on a tear.”

“Melly down at the Curl Up and Dye said she heard he'd shacked up down there with a regular witch. She was trying some voodoo spells to get him to marry her but it didn't work. And she kicked him out and had him arrested or some crazy thing.” Beth covered her baby's ears, as if she didn't want him to hear his mother spreading the evil seed of gossip.

My ears had certainly pricked up. And my mimosa burned going
down as I tried to swallow and act politely disinterested. Judging from their surprised exclamations, I gathered Mick had a blemish-free record before New Orleans. As for Nash? The ladies made it sound like his mug shot could've been used for his senior yearbook picture and no one would've been shocked in the least.

Lizzie made a razzing sound. “Voodoo spells! I wouldn't trust Melly with a pair of scissors, let alone believe a word that comes out of her mouth!”

Quinn shrugged. “She does color Mick's aunt's hair once a month. Well, whatever. I don't know what, or who, happened to him down there, but I'd say he got hurt pretty bad. He's been acting like the biggest pig in Bucks County. Crazy.”

“Well, sign me up for the bacon craze, then.” Julia smirked and cracked down on a particularly crispy piece from her plate. “I hear he's even better when he's chocolate-covered.”