white trees and the flowers, lots of flowers,” he told Zoe. “Whatever you think would look good is fine by me.”
“I love flowers, so if you’re sure you want me to put it together, the church will look like a snowy Christmas wonderland.”
“Yep, go for it,” Carson agreed after he let out the breath he’d been holding on to.
“And that’s your final word on the subject?” Father Beau asked him the question in that inquisitive priestly voice Carson knew so well.
“Absolutely yes. That’s my final word.”
A warm smile spread across Zoe’s lovely full lips and Carson’s temperature immediately rose as he moved away from her and gave his cousin a sheepish glance.
“Well, I believe we’re done here,” Carson announced and proceeded to walk toward the front doors of the church.
He could hear Zoe’s boots echoing behind him as she tried to catch up.
“Nice seeing you again, cousin. Drop in anytime you might want to talk. Our doors are always open,” Father Beau called after him.
Carson held up a hand, but refused to turn around.
* * *
“WHO WOULD HAVE thought that picking out a wedding cake could be this tough?” Carson said as he flipped through a binder filled with pictures of decorated tiered cakes. He tried his darndest to take all this seriously, but looking at white frosted cakes with flowers, swirls and an assortment of other feminine decorations was simply not something this rodeo dog ever thought he’d be doing.
It was now day two of the wedding myth, and although he’d overheard some speculative rumblings about his upcoming ceremony, there was no concrete evidence that it wasn’t going to take place. As long as he kept his mouth shut, no one seemed to be the wiser.
Except maybe his sister Kayla, who kept bugging him about attending their family dinners on Sunday nights. Most ranchers and farmers in these parts liked to spend at least one night a week with their family around the dinner table. Sunday seemed to be the night of choice, and the Grant family was no exception. Even Father Beau attended and contributed a dessert or a main course at least two Sundays a month.
If Carson had his calculations right, this coming Sunday Father Beau would be in attendance. All the more reason why Carson wanted to stay away. Beau knew the truth and his mere presence at the dinner table might force Carson to spill his secret.
Carson hadn’t made it to the family ranch in several weeks due to the weather, his aches and pains, and any number of excuses he could conjure up. He hadn’t wanted to see his family and be forced into answering a million questions about his slow recovery. And he especially didn’t want to see them now that his wedding fabrication was in full swing.
Still, they were celebrating his dad’s sixty-fifth birthday this Sunday, so there was no getting around it. He had to show up.
He’d awoken that morning determined to come clean with the truth, but then Zoe Smart called reminding him of their plans to pick out a cake from Holy Rollers Bakery. He didn’t want to disappoint Zoe on the phone, so without hesitation he agreed to meet her, thinking he’d tell her once they were settled inside the warm bakery, sipping a hot beverage. After all, there was no way he would fork out good money for a cake that no one would eat.
However, as soon as he saw her charming face and heard that sweet voice, he knew if he sprung it on her at the bakery she’d say her goodbyes, hand him a bill for her services, and that would be the last time he’d see her. She’d probably hate him for taking up her time during her busy day when his girl had already ridden off into the sunset.
So instead, there he was sitting across from her and Amanda Gump at a small table in the back of the bakery. A sweet scent of sugar and spice hung in the air as they each sipped on hot chocolate complete with bakery-made peppermint marshmallows, sampling various cakes and their fillings. He tried to build up some enthusiasm over the outrageously priced confections while devising some way he could avoid making a definitive decision, despite the fact that Marilyn Rose had already come through the bakery several months ago with a list of her pricey requirements and narrowed it down to four of her favorite creations.
Apparently, his ex-fiancée had decided on three tiers of chocolaty goodness with a lemon cream filling, which was fine by him, until Amanda Gump, who now ran the bakery after her aunt had stepped down, recommended that he change his order to one tier of chocolate, one tier of yellow cake and perhaps a tier of banana or a nice spice cake on the top.
“That’s a great idea, Amanda,” Zoe said, agreeing with the change. “It’ll mean all the guests will more than likely be satisfied.”
She then gazed over at Carson, seeking his approval. Unfortunately, Carson had come down with a strong case of this is ridiculous and was about to put the kibosh on the entire event when Amanda spoke up.
“You should probably order a gluten-free groom’s cake,” Amanda suggested to Carson. “So your mom and other guests who no longer eat wheat can enjoy the cake festivities, as well. We make a killer lemon poppy seed gluten-free cake that’s to die for. Your mom comes in here at least once a week for our GF lemon poppy seed muffins. I know she’d love our cake, as well.”
His mom... Now, there was someone he had to personally tell about his called-off wedding before he told anyone else. She would be devastated if she heard the news from someone other than her son. As it was, she already had her youngest daughter not going through with her wedding, and now she’d have to deal with her son’s wedding debacle.
Nope, he’d have to hold his tongue a little longer...at least until Sunday dinner. “Sure, whatever my mom likes is fine with me. Order it up.”
In the meantime, he noticed the delight pouring out of Zoe as she and Amanda discussed the number of guests the cakes would have to serve. Zoe was in her element, excited to be part of the planning stage, but then what he knew of Zoe, she seemed as peaceful as a cat resting in the sun. She was one of those people who looked at life with a positive slant, and no matter what happened, even when a bride didn’t show up for her own wedding, Zoe could always find the rosy side of a situation and react with calm, deliberate expertise to defuse any issue.
Amanda, with her short-cropped wine-colored hair, big feather earrings, colorful sweater, red jeans and knee-high bright red boots, was as sharp as a whip about most things, especially business, and had opened the second successful Holy Rollers Bakery over in Jackson just that past summer. Ever since she’d married Milo Gump, she’d turned into a no-nonsense businesswoman who not only knew how to run local bakeries, but was working on opening a third one in Boise.
“Oh, and I love your tiered Christmas Present Cake,” Zoe said as she flipped through the pages in the white binder she held in her lap, searching for the correct page. When she found it, she passed the binder to Carson. It didn’t look like a cake at all, but rather four boxes stacked on top of each other, all gaily wrapped in striped and polka-dot Christmas paper. A big dark red bow sat on the top of the cake.
He knew as soon as he saw it that Marilyn Rose would hate it. According to her, Christmas presents were for children under the age of twelve, and once you turned thirteen, the gift exchange was over. A fact that irked every member of the Grant clan. They believed everyone deserved a present on Christmas, even the family dogs.
“It’s exactly right,” Carson told Zoe. “You couldn’t have picked a more perfect
