Page 15 of Icing on the Cake

Eisley spins as she takes in the shelves lined with frozen meats, veggies, fruits, and house-made desserts. When her gaze finally meets mine, tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She hurls herself at me and wraps her arms around my body, burying her head into my chest.

“Thank you, thank you,” she repeats with a choked, shaky breath. She glances up at me with a smile that makes my heart sing. “I’ll make this up to you. Promise.”

“There’s nothing to make up for, baby.” I brush a lock of hair from her brow and soak in her features. Her gold-flecked hazel eyes are the first thing I want to see each morning and the last thing I want to see each night. “This is what people do when they love someone.”

She blinks as if stunned, but her smile never falters. “You love me?”

“I do,” I say softly. “I think I have from the first moment I saw you.”

“Well, there was mistletoe,” she snickers. “And then I threw myself at you. The things a girl has to do to get your attention.” She tsks and shakes her head.

“I was afraid I’d lose you today.” I gather her closer in my arms. “You’ve got my attention. Now you’re stuck with me.”

She tips on her toes and whispers against my lips as she gazes at me. “I love you, Beau. You loving me back is all I need.”

CHAPTER 11

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Eisley

I awaken alone in Beau’s king-sized bed. He insisted I stay with him so he could keep an eye on me. Just in case, he said with a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. We both knew it was a ploy, but I didn’t need convincing. I’m all too happy to spend time between the sheets with Beau. I’d like to do a lot more of it for an extended period of time, like say, the next seventy or eighty years.

Soft morning light filters through the break between the window curtains. Contentment washes through me. I feel reborn, a woman with a plan and the love of a good man. I stretch and yawn, taking time to nurse the dull aches leftover from the crash.

I roll over and rest my head beside Beau’s empty pillow, breathing his lingering scent into my lungs. The memories of the past few weeks flood my mind. We share a lot of common ground, yet I wonder if it’s foolish to tiptoe around the elephant in the room. When the city council makes their final decision, one of us will be on the losing side.

My tummy growls, nagging me to get out of bed. I pull on my clothes from yesterday and wander into the kitchen. A homemade croissant and freshly cut strawberries sit atop a small white plate with a handwritten note tucked into the napkin.

The note simply reads, Love Beau.

I clasp the note to my heart as overwhelming joy softens my nagging reservations. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I reach for the pastry. If what Beau and I have is real, we’ll always find a way to solve any problem that comes our way, just like we did with the gender reveal cupcakes and the wedding cake last night.

Oh, crap.

I stuff a bite of pastry into my mouth and quickly gather my shoes and purse. The wedding cakes. Beau and I finished decorating the cake layers last night but have yet to deliver them to the venue. I hop across the living room floor while slipping on my shoes and make a mental list of what needs to be done. Pick up the cakes from Beau. Deliver them to the venue. Set up the tiers. Apologize for my tardiness. Oh, and borrow a car.

I secure the door behind me and hurry down three flights of stairs to the restaurant. I slip in through the side door and head straight to the kitchen, where I find Beau busily pouring batter into cake pans.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” He glances up at me with a smile that could dampen a nun’s panties. “How you feeling this morning?”

“Good. Can I borrow your car?” I hurry past him without breaking stride, straight to the walk-in fridge. I tug on the door and shiver as the brisk cold seeps into my clothes. “The Connor wedding is in an hour, and I’ve got to get the cake to–” I freeze in my tracks and panic as my heart sinks to my gut. “Where are the cakes?”

“It’s all taken care of. I got up early and delivered the cakes myself.” He slaps a towel over his shoulder and loads the oven racks with batter-filled pans.

“And you put the tiers in place and added piped frosting? The lilac and moss green?” I close the fridge. “Were they okay with you delivering it? Did it look okay?”

Beau pulls a phone from his back pocket, taps a few times, and then hands it to me. I scroll through several photos of the five-tiered wedding cake. He’s photographed it from every angle possible, including the tiniest details. My eyes fill with happy, relieved tears.

“Thank you.” I soak in his soft, dark eyes and warm smile. This man melts my heart. “Thank you for everything.”

He places his hands on my shoulders and dips his chin, claiming my lips. The kiss is slow and tender, intentional in the way it lingers between us. I’ve fallen in love with so much more than a handsome, kind man. I’ve fallen for his compassion, dedication, and gentle spirit.

“You’re welcome,” he says when our lips part. “It’s just another perk of having a professional kitchen.”

He winks, and a sudden pang hits me in the gut when he emphasizes the word, professional. Is he still throwing his support behind the proposed licensing changes?

“Or friends with one.” I don’t want to, but it’s time to tackle the white elephant.

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