The Bad Luck Wedding Cake (10 page)

“Wake up, Tye. There’s been a gas leak. You must get up and get out of here.”

“My head. Hell. I can’t…the girls.” He opened his eyes and lifted his head off the pillow. “My girls?”

“They’re fine. They’re safe.”

His head dropped back. Claire thought he might have passed out again.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs. “Hello? You hollered for help?”

“Here,” she called, recognizing the voice as that of one of her customers. “We need to get him outside, Mr. Landry. There’s been a gas leak.”

Mr. Landry was a good thirty years older than Claire, crotchety and gruff. But the freight hauler had the muscles of a much younger man and, between the two of them, they were able to get Tye to his feet.

“What kind of britches is he wearing?” Landry drawled, scowling down at Tye’s hips. “You shouldn’t be here, ma’am. Him without a shirt and hearts on his drawers. It’s not seemly.”

“Well neither is letting a man die,” she snapped back.

“You do have a point there. I reckon you saved his life.”

A flurry of footsteps coming up the stairs told Claire more help had arrived. As a trio of men assisted Tye downstairs, Claire grabbed clothes for him from a bureau drawer. Soon the men had him dressed and settled in a chair in The Confectionary’s kitchen by the opened back door. He didn’t complain of any ill effects while the girls reassured themselves of his well-being. When they finally adjourned to the front of the store to partake of their delayed breakfast, Tye confessed to suffering a nauseated stomach and a roaring headache.

Claire poured a dollop of Magic into the warm tea she served him. When he looked at it suspiciously, she said, “This is what my mother always gave me when I had an upset stomach and a headache. It works wonders, Tye.”

“More Magic, huh? I guess it can’t hurt me, not the shape I’m in at the moment.” He sipped at it and sighed.

But as his headache lessened, his frown grew. He asked Claire to explain how she’d found them, and then debated how the lamp may have malfunctioned. “Scares the bejeebers out of me to think about it,” he said eventually. “The girls could have…”

“Died,” Claire said flatly, angry at the thought. “You all could have died. You need to get a man out here to check all the fixtures in this building. Today.”

He nodded, then winced at the effort. “I will. But no matter what, I’m moving the girls back to Trace’s house. The painting is almost done. Better to live with paint fumes than to…” Again, he wouldn’t say the word.

Claire didn’t hear what else he said. She was too preoccupied with surprise at her reaction to the McBrides’ proposed change of address.
I’ll miss them
, she realized with a pang in the vicinity of her heart. She recalled some of the Menaces’ antics she’d witnessed from her kitchen window. She remembered smiling at the sweet sound of their laughter. The Rankin Building would seem unnaturally quiet in their absence.

“Claire!”

She jumped at the sound of Tye’s voice. Judging from his tone and the frustration on his face, he had tried to get her attention for some time. “What?”

“I said I owe you one. A big one. You saved my nieces.”

The gratitude shining in his expression was a welcome change from the haunted knowledge of near tragedy that had previously lined his face. Soothingly, Claire replied, “The girls were fine. You were the one who came closest to dying.”

“Better me than them anytime. If something bad happened to them it would tear me up. But if it happened on my watch…well…I couldn’t live with it.” He drew a deep breath. “Thank you, Claire Donovan. I owe you.”

“Tye, I only did what anyone would do. What any
friend
would do. You don’t owe me.”

“Yes, I do.”

He left her no choice but to nod and accept his thanks. When he reached out and took her in his arms for a quick, heartfelt hug, she felt like she’d won a blue-ribbon prize. She was smiling when he turned to leave, humming a happy tune beneath her breath when he stopped at the doorway and glanced back over his shoulder. Her song died beneath the seriousness in his sharp, somber stare.

“And Claire? I’m a man who sooner or later always pays his debts. Anytime, anywhere, you ever need my help, all you need do is ask. All right?”

“All right,” she agreed.

Once he left, she pursed her lips in silent contemplation. Well, wasn’t that interesting? Whether she deserved it or not, she had a favor from Tye McBride tucked away in her apron pocket.

“Ah, I’ll never need it.” As soon as she said it, she wanted to bite her tongue. Talk about asking for trouble.

It’s bad luck to bake with indifferent flour
.

CHAPTER 7

TWO DISTINCT CULTURES CO-EXISTED in Fort Worth. The refined residents strove to erase the frontier atmosphere of the town, while the ruffians liked to get down and wallow in it. As the days passed, The Confectionary proved to be one of only a handful of businesses in town that catered to both.

Claire now opened the shop a full hour earlier in order to serve those whose sweet tooth attacked at the end of a rowdy night She also stayed open one hour later to accommodate the ladies who wanted The Confectionary’s fresh-baked bread to grace their supper tables.

By the end of the first month of business, Claire declared The Confectionary an unqualified success. Her biggest problem was that all the hard work had worn her ragged. Like never before, she appreciated the helping hands her family members gave one another at the Donovan bakeries.

She didn’t know how she’d have managed without Lars. He had returned to Fort Worth the day after the McBrides moved back to Willow Hill, bringing with him heartrending news about her family.

Upon learning that Lars had found his daughter safe and sound in Fort Worth, John Donovan had heaved a huge sigh of relief. When told that Claire refused to return to Galveston and marry Reid, her father’s temper erupted. He’d thundered on for hours, eventually declaring he no longer had a daughter. Throughout John Donovan’s storm, Claire’s mother remained silent and sad.

The boys weren’t silent, however. According to Lars, they had maligned her up one side and down the other. It got so bad that at one point, Lars and Patrick actually exchanged a few punches. That was why Lars had chosen not to tell the Donovans he intended to join her in Fort Worth. “They’re hardheaded, hard-hearted Irishmen, Clary,” he had said, “and if this is the way they’re going to be, I want no part of them.”

Knowing her father’s temper, Claire had anticipated his anger. She wasn’t even too surprised he’d gone so far as to wash his hands of her. However, she did expect him to retract his harsh decision once his temper cooled, but as the days passed with no telegram or even a visit by one of her brothers, she was forced to accept that he’d been serious in his proclamation.

The thought that she had lost her family hurt deeply, and at times she second-guessed her choice. But then she’d think about marrying Reid, of retiring to the marriage bed every night with a man she didn’t love, and she knew she’d done the right thing.

Family duty went only so far. Had someone’s life been at stake or something equally as serious, well, that would have been a different question altogether. She simply wasn’t going to sacrifice herself to a legend. The Donovan Magical Wedding Cake fairy tale could find a different fairy godmother. It wasn’t going to be her. Still, as the days passed, every other time the welcome bell announced the opening of The Confectionary’s door, Claire expected to look up and find a Donovan.

It never happened.

“I can’t believe Da really meant it,” she muttered to herself at the end of one workday as she closed and locked the shop’s door. “If he did, I can’t believe Mama and the boys didn’t stick up for me.”

Was Lars the only one who truly cared about her? And he wasn’t even blood family, but a friend. A good friend. A true friend.
He could teach Tye McBride the real meaning of the word
, Claire thought.

The situation plagued her as she walked to Main Street and splurged by taking the mule-driven trolley to spare her weary body a good ten minutes off the trip home.

Strolling up the dirt lane toward her rented cottage, she spied a figure reclining in the porch swing. Her heartbeat accelerated. Was that Patrick?

Drawing nearer, she saw that no, the visitor was not her brother. Her pulse didn’t slow. If anything, it sped up. The man sprawled across the swing on her front porch was none other than Tye McBride.

Suddenly Claire felt a bit…fluttery. She hadn’t seen much of the McBrides since they’d moved back into Willow Hill. The day after the gaslight incident Tye sent her an extraordinary thank-you gift: free ice for a year from the Fort Worth Ice Company. In his note he said he’d considered sending a diamond bracelet, but thought she’d appreciate this type of ice more. He’d been right.

The Confectionary no longer provided the Menaces their breakfast every day; instead the girls often stopped by for their raisin muffins on the way home from school. According to Emma, Tye was back to eating real steak and eggs for his morning meals. But, Emma allowed, he also ate the sweets Claire sent home for him with the girls.

Claire took it as a victory, considering his scornful reaction to her Magic and especially since the girls also indicated that the parade of pastries and cakes to “Lord McBride’s” front door hadn’t ended with his change of address. Claire wasn’t surprised, having twice spied Tye himself delivering baked goods to the nuns across the street.

“So,” she said to herself as she approached her front gate, “what brings Mr. Steak-and-cackle-fruit to my front porch this afternoon?”

Maybe he came looking for some Magic to spice up his eggs.

She forced herself to keep her hands at her sides rather than reach up to smooth her hair like she felt the urge to do.

The sweet perfume of roses drifted on the subtle breeze as Claire arrived at the front gate. Reaching down, she slipped the latch. Hinges squeaked when the picket door swung open, and the man on the swing thumbed his hat back off his brow and sat up. He glanced at her, then tugged a watch from his pocket and checked the time. “Two thirty-eight. You’re early, Claire. The Blessings won’t be pleased. They didn’t want to have to see you.”

Affronted, Claire halted halfway up the graveled path and stared at him. For a moment, the only sound that broke the silence was the song of a cardinal from the branches of a nearby Cottonwood. Then, subduing her pique, she asked, “The girls are here?”

“Yeah. Inside with their teacher.”

“Why? Did she assign them extra work or something?”

“Not exactly. I’ve lured Miss Blackstone for extra lessons of a sort. It was all the Blessings’ idea. When the teacher wanted the lessons given here, the one thing the girls asked is that it be done at a time when we wouldn’t run into you.”

“Well, I guess that puts me in my place,” Claire replied, surprised to feel the pang of hurt feelings. “What did I do? Substitute blueberry muffins for their usual raisin?”

“Nah. It’s nothing like that. Nothing personal.” Tye lumbered to his feet and stepped across to the porch rail, where he leaned against a support post and folded his arms. “You have them running scared. I couldn’t figure it out myself at first. It took eavesdropping on their latest round of fortune-telling for the pieces to fall into place.” He shook his head slowly and added, “I’m starting to worry about that fish.”

Claire tugged at her bonnet ties in vexation. “Running scared? What do you mean? They’re not afraid of me. They come by my bakery every day. I daresay they like me. A lot. Why, every time I see them they thank me for saving your lives.”

Tye nodded. “You put your finger on it Claire. They are grateful you saved us—as I am, I might add—but as far as the Blessings are concerned, gratitude toward you is a fly in their matrimonial buttermilk.”

“Excuse me?”

“They posed the question to Spike.”

“Spike?”

“Haven’t you seen them with their fish? Their fortuneteller fish? I think you know they have their hearts set on marrying me off to Loretta Davis. They worried that they should switch their loyalties to you since you saved our lives. The fish agreed.”

“A fortune-telling fish?” Claire pulled off her bonnet and gave her head a shake. “Wait a minute. Did you just say your nieces want me to marry you?”

“No. That’s the problem.” His lips quirked up in a grin, and a gleam of amusement brightened his agate-green eyes. “They still have dreams of matching me and the fair Loretta. I’m afraid they’ve even taken their case to Loretta’s beau, Gus—after I went to a good bit of trouble to smooth the waters with him after Maybelle stirred them up at the school that day, I might add.” He paused and shook his head in exasperation. “Those girls. Now Gus is all in a huff again. I think even Loretta’s getting a bit tired of it.”

“So where do I fit in to all this?”

“Well, apparently their fish championed you. That’s why we are here now. You’re not supposed to be home from work yet.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“The girls are taking etiquette lessons.”

Astonished laughter burst from Claire’s mouth. “Etiquette lessons?”

He nodded. “Believe it or not, it was Mari’s idea. They intend to learn to be proper young ladies. Last time we had supper with the Davis family, we had an incident. The girls think these lessons will help them avoid similar trouble in the future. Personally I have my doubts, but I didn’t see what it could hurt.”

“So what does that have to do with me?”

Tye shrugged as he removed his hat and laid it on the railing. Then he resumed his seat on the swing. “I told them I intended to walk them to and from their lessons. I’ve hired your neighbor Bill Jenkins to be the foreman of the ranch I’m starting up and, since he’s home for lunch from his job down in the stockyards at this time of day, it’s a handy way for us to meet and discuss business. Today we ordered barbed wire fencing. Have you heard of it? They just started selling it here a year ago or so. Nasty stuff, but according to Bill it’s just the thing we need for running cattle.”

“And this involves me…?”

“Because they don’t want you and me to spend any time together. They planned for us to be gone before you came home from The Confectionary. You see, Spike has spoken in your favor, but, despite that, the Blessings still want Loretta for their aunt.”

Claire had no intentions whatsoever of marrying Tye McBride or anyone. She’d just rid herself of one fiancé. The last thing she wanted was to tie herself down to another. Even if he did have the starring role in her fantasies every night.

The fact that the Menaces proved so dead set against the idea stuck in her craw. What made Loretta Davis acceptable and her not?

Those Menaces. Someone needed to show them they didn’t rule the world in their parents’ absence. Obviously their Uncle Tye wasn’t going to be that someone.
I’ll have to do it
, she told herself.
Those girls have simply run amok
.

And so, purely for the McBride Menaces’ benefit, she told herself, Claire spread out her skirts and took a seat beside Tye. Close beside Tye. “I took etiquette lessons as a girl.”

He eyed the six-inch slat of swing that separated them. “You did?”

She nodded. “Mrs. Avery. She said I walked like a boy. She made me wear shoes three sizes too small so I’d take littler steps. She failed me from the class the day she found my collection of doodlebugs.”

A hint of worry coloring his tone, Tye cocked his head toward the window and said, “Miss Blackstone. She’s not like your Mrs. Avery, is she?”

“Not at all. Your girls will do well with her. How many lessons do they intend to take?”

“I said we’d start with three. I figured one for each of them. After that, we’ll see.” After a moment’s pause, he asked, “Miss Blackstone won’t put ‘em in too-tight shoes?”

“Nothing more traumatic than holding a book balanced on their heads, most likely.”

Tye pursed his lips and nodded as though reassured.

The movement drew Claire’s gaze to his mouth.
How
, she idly wondered,
would Tye McBride taste?

After a moment’s consideration she decided on steamy. And spicy. Like hot gingerbread fresh from the oven. Or maybe cinnamon-sweet, like hot apple pie.

Suddenly Claire felt like Eve eyeing forbidden fruit. But upon reflection, why should it be forbidden? She wasn’t in Galveston anymore, surrounded by a pair of overprotective brothers and possessive parents. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t stolen a few kisses in the past.

Forbidden fruit. Tye McBride. She stifled the urge to lick her lips. Glancing up, she found him watching her, studying her with eyes that slowly caught fire.

All thought of the Menaces and etiquette evaporated from Claire’s mind as time stumbled to a halt. The air between them thickened like a hot, July afternoon on the eve of a thunderstorm. Her senses expanded, the world around her becoming magnified. He looked dangerous but smelled of leather and sandalwood and school paste. She wanted to touch him. She craved to test the texture of his late-afternoon whiskers.
Soft or sharp?
she wondered as his nostrils flared beneath her scrutiny. The harsh sound of his breath rasped across the slight distance that separated them.

Claire’s insides clenched at the sound.

His gaze dropped to her mouth. She gave in to the urge to wet her lips, and he responded with a low-throated, rumbled groan that sent shivers racing down her skin.

The woman deep within her recognized him. This man could show her. This man could whisk her to that dizzying world of passion and desire. This man, Tye McBride, called to her in a way no other man ever had. She wanted him—no, needed him—to touch her, to hold her.

She needed his kiss.

Her mouth went dry as hunger grabbed her, thrummed inside her, propelled her toward him. “Tye…”

“No Magic this time,” he said, his breath as soft as a summer breeze. “Just you. This spell is your own, isn’t it?”

“Spell?” she breathed.

“Maybe my Blessings are right to be concerned.” His hand slowly lifted to cup her cheek. “I don’t think straight when I’m around you. You’re an Irish-Texan witch, Claire Donovan. A beautiful, beguiling, every-man’s fantasy.”

She melted on a sigh as his lips touched hers.

This is real magic
, Claire thought as he swept her along on a tide of heat and need. She felt the coaxing, entreating brush of his tongue across her lips all the way to the tips of her tingling toes. She opened to him, and at the first warm stroke on the sensitive places inside, her entire body took flame.

She faintly heard a crash like breaking glass and took it to be the sound of her defenses dissolving. Drinking of her passion, he cast his spell around her, through her, into the very heart of her. She ached for him to hold her tight, and somehow he knew it. He pulled her closer, molding her to him. He was hard, so different from her; his chest a granite cliff against the pillow of her breasts, his arms iron shackles holding her captive.