Page 1 of Falling for You
CHAPTER 1
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CeCe LaRue was wrist-deep in a mound of bread dough when she heard her cell phone ring. The trilling sound grated like a block of aged parmesan over a bowl of pasta. Mumbling a few choice profanities, she lifted her hands and attempted to answer with her elbow as Max’s smiling face beamed from the taunting device. After one more attempt at elbow poking, the phone went silent. “Come on,” she groaned, knowing the reason her boss called.
“He’s calling off again, isn’t he?” Evan Lawson asked from the doorway. He shrugged off his jacket and dusted a few snowflakes from his blond curls. Walking over to the table, he picked up her phone as Max called again. “Hey, Max,” he answered, watching CeCe roll her eyes from her spot at the table. She tried to push her hair back with her forearm and ended up covering her nose in flour. “Yep, it looks like sourdough this time.”
CeCe could hear both men laugh at her morning routine. It wasn’t her fault she wanted the diner to have fresh bread every morning. “Put him on speaker,” she ordered while thrusting her hands back into the blob of dough.
Evan shook his head and ignored her request. “Sure thing. We’ll get everything ready to go. See you soon.” He disconnected and put her phone back on the table. His blue gaze finally met CeCe’s, and he smirked. The guy had an unnerving ability to disarm her with just one of his goofy grins.Darn him.
Now was not the time to evaluate Evan or his ability to short-circuit her brain. Ever since they went to the Christmas Jubilee together, CeCe was unable to bake her way out of Evan’s charms. It was just one night out, one night with a friend she thought she knew, but what she hadn’t expected was Evan’s dance moves, the way he filled out that tuxedo, the way he respected her boundaries yet still made her feel seen, made her feel special. They’d laughed and relaxed like they never had on the clock, and she’d be lying to herself if she thought it was a fluke. Evan was certainly boyfriend material, but she was not about to break her rule. You don’t date coworkers—or at least not again.
Despite going back to their former routine of workmates, Evan wasn’t perturbed. He’d always been a nice guy, but over the last couple months she felt a shift between them. He’d linger at the end of shifts, taking care to make sure she was in her car safely before heading out. He’d move things off the higher shelves, keeping everything at her level, because it wasn’t easy being the shortest one on the team. Not that she’d give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered by his charms. Nope, not going to happen.
“I could have taken that, you know.” She huffed, turning her face down to her work. Slapping the now-formed ball of dough, she smiled as the sour tang hit her nostrils. This was going to be a good batch; she could feel it.
Undeterred, Evan walked over to the sink and washed his hands. Within a minute, he donned an apron and started cracking eggs for the breakfast rush. “I know, but watching you flail around entertains me,” he said, smiling through his egg-cracking.
“Ugh.” CeCe grumbled as she formed loaves of bread and covered them in a towel to rise. No matter her mood, she trusted the bread-making process. Life was complicated, but she knew that flour, yeast, water, and salt made terrific bread every time. “What’s his excuse this time?”
Evan pulled down a few frying pans from above the stove and lined them up by the grill. Without being asked, he grabbed another tray for the fresh loaves and placed it on the counter. CeCe had been trying to reach that before he arrived, but she couldn’t find her kickstand. Such were the struggles of being barely five feet tall.
“Does he need an excuse? He’s been with Ginny every waking moment since Christmas.” There was no malice or accusation in Evan’s tone; the guy was a born romantic.
Their boss, and friend, had finally gotten his ex-wife back over the holidays. While it was certainly heartwarming, it threw their usually predictable boss off his game and into the arms of love. Sure, Max was still devoted to the diner, but he’d found the work-life balance he’d been missing for years. In a matter of weeks, he was basically a new man.
“No. You’re right. He doesn’t need an excuse.” CeCe wiped her hands on a towel and started icing a tray of warm cinnamon rolls, the cream cheese icing oozing into the cinnamon swirls. Like clockwork, Evan joined her side and leaned in for a closer look. His eyes practically sparkled as she handed him the pallet knife. “You can have the rest, but don’t eat it near the counter.”
Evan scoffed, but took the proffered knife. “I’m not a kid. I know not to drool over the customer’s food.” He took his prize and backed away to the corner. CeCe attempted to ignore the sinful noises he made as he licked the knife clean.Maybe she should invest in some earplugs?
Pulling at the collar of her tunic, she tried to cool herself down. “Must be the ovens,” she muttered as she ambled into the walk-in fridge for the rest of the breakfast ingredients. As she opened the door with an armful of trays, Evan was there at the ready, reaching out and taking the load without even a grunt, carefully placing everything on the counter. “Thanks,” CeCe said as she handed him the second round of trays.
Following a familiar routine, the pair stood side by side and chopped, mixed, and prepped what they needed for breakfast. CeCe used to do this routine with Max, but Evan had been taking more of an interest in cooking recently. Their boss getting struck by Cupid’s arrow only accelerated Evan’s time to test recipes and sharpen his knife skills.
CeCe had been at the diner for nearly three years, the longest she’d ever been at one job. She was a few months away from her thirtieth birthday, and she wasn’t too proud to say it got to her. Time never meant much to CeCe, who traveled around the Midwest finding kitchens where she could use her pastry chef diploma. A stint in Chicago and a stop in Ohio’s three-C’s, and she had somehow found her peace in the small Ohio town of Buckeye Falls.
The peace of their morning prep work was interrupted when Helen, their lead waitress, barged in through the back door. “Did you see?” she practically shouted as she ran over to them, the local paper clutched in her meaty hand.
Evan hurriedly moved a bowl of eggs as Helen thrust the paper onto the counter, which she followed by slapping her hand over the headline. “What’s up?” Evan asked, craning his neck to see what all the fuss was about. Helen was usually more sour than excitable.
“He’s coming to Buckeye Falls this summer for a food competition. Can you believe our luck? Someone likehimcoming to Ohio?” Helen exclaimed, her enthusiasm contagious until CeCe finally saw the “he” in question.
Glancing down at the paper, CeCe felt her hands go clammy as she dropped her whisk. It clattered across the floor and landed next to Evan’s sneakered feet, a trail of pancake batter in its wake. Without saying a word, he retrieved it and tossed it in the sink. He pulled another whisk from the utensil holder and tried handing it to her, but she was lost in a slew of emotions.
Feeling her throat close, she needed to get out of the kitchen and away from witnesses because she was either going to faint or puke. Her happy place had been invaded by a black-and white-image of her past, and she knew she couldn’t take it—at least not right now.
“CeCe, what’s wrong?” Evan asked, stepping closer and resting his hand on her arm. Despite the warmth of his touch, she didn’t register the contact, just kept blinking. Her eyes brimmed with unshed emotion. And CeCe was no crier.
Helen put her hand to her chest, finally picking up on CeCe’s mood. “You look like you've seen a ghost.” She grabbed a water bottle, opened it, and handed it to CeCe. She took it, but she couldn’t bring herself to drink. Her tongue was heavy, stuck to the roof of her mouth like she’d eaten a peanut butter sandwich.
Staring up at her from the grainy front-page photo was celebrity chef Eric Watson. Over the last couple years, he’d moved from his own chain of successful Chicago restaurants to being the biggest star on the Food Network. His TV persona was part Gordon Ramsey and part Jamie Oliver, but with the Midwestern charm only Eric could master. He managed to both school someone in the kitchen and make them weak in the knees. Right now, CeCe was feeling his charms in a very unpleasant way—and she feared she was about to upchuck all over her sourdough.
Before he was a celebrity chef, he was the love of CeCe’s life. There were too many conflicting emotions roiling through her in that moment: sadness, fear, and most importantly, disgust. Disgust that this man still had the power to make her feel this small. She was past all this Eric drama.Wasn’t she?!
“I need some air,” she said, forcing her feet to propel her toward the door.
Helen and Evan stared after CeCe until the door slammed behind her. Stumbling out into the cool early March morning, she tried to fill her lungs with air, but she knew it was a losing battle. She paced back and forth, limbs shaking, as she stared unseeing at her feet. She heard the door open and knew Evan was behind her. He had the uncanny ability to be near when she needed someone, but this was not the time.
