her presentation. She liked this part of her job almost as much as she enjoyed baking.
“Where do you want these?”
The deep voice behind her caused her to whip around so fast she almost knocked the whole table over. The man standing there holding a huge plastic-covered container was not Pastor Rory Sanderson.
Alec Caldwell smiled at her over the huge pan of sweets.
“Hello, Cupcake Girl.”
So now she was Cupcake Girl?
Marla regained her equilibrium and smoothed the already-smooth tablecloth before she returned his smile. He really was a good-looking man, and that scar just made him mysterious and...intriguing. “Uh, hi, Soldier Boy.”
He lifted the pan higher.
“Oh, just set it on the end of the table.”
Alec did as she asked, then turned toward her, the clean scent of soap reminding her of wind and water. She noticed his slight limp and wondered if his leg gave him trouble. “So we meet again.”
Alec glanced around the long room. “Yes. Small world.”
Looking uncomfortable, he eyed the grinning pastor standing at another table. “Preacher seemed mighty keen on me bringing this in to you. Right after he told me you’re single and that you’re a good cook. Think we’ve been set up?”
Marla hoped the heat rising up her throat didn’t show. “I don’t know. Are you single and a good cook, too?”
He rubbed a hand down his scar. “Single, yes. Is that important?”
“You tell me, since you look so frightened.”
Surprised that he kept glancing at the door, Marla shook her head and made a note of that panicked look in his amber-gold eyes. “I agreed to this event last week, but I never considered you might be here. And I haven’t mentioned anything about being set up to anyone.” Turning back to her table, she added, “Relax, Soldier Boy, you’re safe with me.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he said with a shrug and a sheepish expression. “Just a bad joke. Never mind.”
She felt the heat now rising on her cheeks, the same kind of flush she got when she opened the door of a hot oven. “I mean, why would I mention you to anyone?” Then because that had sounded so very bad, she hastily added, “Not that I would mind mentioning you to anyone. I’ve just been busy. I mean, you’re not on my mind.”
Alec’s brow twitched upward while his frown hardened. “Hmmm. I didn’t tell anyone about our close encounter of the sugary kind, either, so let’s both relax, Sweet Cakes. Preacher told me about this event on Sunday night, but he did remind me a lot of single people would be here.”
Marla wished she could hide underneath the tablecloth. “So the preacher didn’t know we’d already met. We can’t blame him for us running into each other again.”
“Technically, no,” Alec replied. “But you never know what runs through Preacher’s mind. He just wants everyone to be happy.”
“I’m such a ditz,” she replied, wishing she wouldn’t jump to the wrong conclusions all the time. “I’m sorry.”
Alec stood back on booted heels, looking completely out of place with all the daintiness surrounding him. The trace of confusion in his eyes changed into something else...hope? “Maybe it was divine intervention.”
Marla didn’t know how to respond to that. She just stared at him for a moment or two and then said, “Or maybe because we both have kind of unique occupations, he honestly wanted to showcase our endeavors.”
Alec glanced around. “Yep, lots of interesting artists and vendors here tonight. The butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker—”
She added her own nursery rhyme. “And rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief.”
The smile on his face died a quick death. “I get your point.”
Marla was definitely going to hide under the table. “That didn’t come out right. I never was very good at nursery rhymes.”
“It’s okay,” he said with a shrug but the darkness in his eyes told her it wasn’t okay. “I get that this town thinks I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. But I’m trying to honor my family’s legacy. My mother’s legacy, really.”
“I’m such an idiot,” Marla said. “Forgive me. I’m kind of nervous about this whole affair.”
“I don’t think you should call yourself names.” He stole a cookie off one of her trays. “You are neither a ditz nor an idiot, as far as I can tell. We’re both nervous, but that doesn’t mean we have to avoid each other.”
“I do need to lighten up.” She shook out her hair and took a deep breath. “I don’t want to scare away any customers.”
He relaxed at that, his hand moving over the scar on his face, a habit he probably wasn’t even aware of having. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
“I just did,” she said. “But not in a very nice way. Can we start over?”
He grinned at her sharp retort but held out his hand. “I could use a do-over,” he said. “Hi, I’m Alec Caldwell, Soldier Boy.”
“Hi.” She shook his extended hand, again feeling the warmth that tingled against her nerve endings. “I’m Wedding... I mean Cupcake Girl, at least tonight. Marla Hamilton.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said with a smile.
“So nice to meet you—again,” she said, hoping they could be civil now.
He let go of her hand but kept his eyes on her. “Oh, and by the way, that cake was a-m-mazing. A-plus amazing. I might have to get married just to have that cake at the wedding.”
She grinned at that comment and put images of him waiting at the altar for some happy woman out of her head. “I’m glad you liked it.”
He gave her a thumbs-up and glanced around the room. “Do you think we’re all single? I mean, it is singles night,” he said. “All joking aside, are there a lot of single people in Millbrook?”
“Single-and-social night,” she amended, wishing he didn’t make her so nervous. Her skin tingled with awareness while her nerves seemed to want to dance. “Networking with a spiritual twist—single or not.”
“Then it is divine intervention.”
Marla glanced around and noticed a lot of people. “I think you might be right.” She lifted her hand toward a cute little older woman wearing a full skirt and pretty spring jacket. “Mrs. Braxton looks like a real cougar.”
He laughed at that one. “She’s got her own booth—showing off crocheted stuff from the Courthouse Collectibles. Lots of baby booties and a few nice feminine hats.”
“Some men find that fascinating.”
He
