Page 1 of The Accidental Honeymoon

one

CALLA

Wow.This house isfancy.

The gray Victorian looms before me, its wraparound porch beckoning like open arms. I did a little internet stalking of this couple before I came. Typical research, just to make sure that the couple requesting a wedding cake aren’t serial killers or anything. Now that I’m arriving at their house, though, I realize that being a social media power couple must pay better than I thought.

I take a deep breath, calming my nerves, and then steady the tray of sample cakes balanced precariously in my hands.This is it, Calla. Your big break into fine event cakes. Don't screw it up.

I'm so focused on not dropping my precious cargo that I miss a step on the porch stairs. The world tilts sideways as I stumble. My stomach lurches. Panic floods my veins. My heart leaps into my throat. But seconds before disaster can strike, strong hands catch me, stopping both me and the tray from dashing to the ground.

"Whoa there," a deep voice chuckles, “don't fall for me.”

I look up into cool blue eyes, blinking as I take in the face of my savior. He has russet brown hair that’s just a bit too long, dazzling aqua eyes, a chestnut beard, and a wide, warm grin.

When I open my mouth but am unable to produce any meaningful sounds, he introduces himself. “Sorry. I’m Jay Rustin. I’m the groom.”

My face flushes as I realize I'm pressed against the very handsome, very well-known, very soon-to-be-married Jay.Great first impression, Calla.

"I-I'm so sorry," I stammer, quickly putting space between us. "Thanks for the save. These cake samples are irreplaceable."

Jay grins, his perfect teeth gleaming. "Happy to help. But I must say, I expected a little more enthusiasm about me catching you. Most women would probably die for a chance to trip directly into my arms.”

Is he... flirting with me? No, impossible. He's getting married in three days. This must be how he talks to everyone.

The last thing I want is for a bride to think I’m trying to steal her man, even if that man does happen to look like Prince Charming. This is my first shot at a big wedding. If I do well with this last-minute booking, I can expect more business to follow.

I roll my eyes and fire back with a measured quip, “Well, clearly I’m not most women. I’d rather dazzle you with my baking prowess than perform an acrobatic freefall. Though, believe me, tripping is practically my specialty.”

I climb the stairs carefully, watching my feet the whole time. I curse the pair of high heeled black pumps that I am wearing. I am a diehard Converse wearer, but today I decided to borrow pumps and put on a dress and cardigandespite the below-freezing temps. Clearly, I should stick to my navy-colored Chucks and leave the heels for women who are able to walk in them.

"After you, cake master," Jay says, offering the door with an air of unspoken irony.

Holy cow.As I step inside, I can't help but marvel at the picture-perfect interior. Beige walls, gray furniture, warm ivory accents in exactly the right places. Everything looks expensive and well-designed like it's straight out of a home decor magazine. Is this really how the other half lives?

Focus, Calla. You're here on business, not to gawk at how the rich and famous decorate their homes.Still, as Jay leads me through a gorgeous, incredibly comfortable-looking living room and into a kitchen straight out of Architect’s Digest, I can’t help but wonder what it must be like to live here.

Really nice, is all I can come up with. God, the kitchen is gorgeous. It’s got an enormous marble-topped island, bright yellow cabinets, and numerous fragile glass light fixtures hanging overhead that cast a warm glow throughout the room.

I steal a glance as Jay casually checks his watch while shedding his jacket. He probably has a schedule jam-packed with more “important” pursuits.

He wrinkles his nose . “Blake should be here any minute. She’s fashionably late by design. You know, to keep us mere mortals guessing.” There’s no overt punchline. It’s delivered flatly, leaving ambiguity as to whether it’s meant to be humorous.

"Is this her house, too?”

His lips twitch with humor. “No. In fact, Blake hates this house. She wants us to move into something more modern. I agreed to talk about it a year from now.”

"She hates it?” Looking around with wide eyes, I whistle. “That’s sad. I’d be pretty pleased if this place was mine.”

“I find it cozy.” He raises both his hands in awho knowsgesture. “Blake wants to build a new place. We’ll see what happens.”

Nodding, I set my tray down carefully on the immaculate kitchen island. “So,” I begin with a wry tilt to my tone, “shall we kick off these cake tastings? Starting with the vanilla bean, if that’s not too pedestrian for you?”

Jay leans against the counter, his casual posture at odds with the formal surroundings. "Absolutely. Though I have to warn you, I'm a tough critic. It takes a lot to impress me."

I raise an eyebrow, rising to the challenge. "Is that so? Well, prepare to have your taste buds blown away, Mr. Rustin. I didn't expand from cupcakes to wedding cakes to serve you mediocrity on a silver platter.”

He gives me a sheepish smile. “That was a fib. I actually know next to nothing about cakes. Do you mind if I take some pictures, though? This wedding is all about squeezing out content to keep the fans interested.”

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