Wedding Cake Wishes. Dana Corbit
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Now she really had him curious, even more so than when he’d been a nosy ten-year-old boy studying the older woman of fourteen. Caroline wasn’t even the most beautiful among the lovely Scott sisters, but she was hands down the most intriguing. Even at twenty-eight, that hadn’t changed. She had the most fascinating eyes, the darkest blue and almost impossible to read.
Those eyes turned back to him now and widened before she found something important to study on the tile floor. What was he doing staring at her, anyway? He had too much on his plate right now to be looking at any pretty woman, let alone Caroline Scott. Unavailable didn’t begin to describe how out of the dating market her mother had said she’d been for years.
“This place looks great,” she said, still not looking at him. “It’s changed since the last time I was here.”
“It’s been a while.”
“I guess it has.”
She chuckled, gripping her hands together in a gesture that seemed uncharacteristic for the take-charge Caroline he remembered. Come to think of it, many things about Caroline were different today. She wore jeans and a T-shirt when she was usually a khakis-and-sweater-set type, and her hair was loose down her back instead of in its usual too-tight bun. Where were the intensity and confidence she usually exuded like perfume?
“You know, we don’t open for another two hours,” he said to fill the awkward silence. “Someone must have forgotten to lock the door—”
She dangled the keys in front of her to explain how she happened to be inside the building. The door hadn’t been left unlocked after all.
“I don’t understand.” And then he did. At least he thought he did. “They couldn’t have.”
But because it was entirely possible that his mother and Mrs. Scott had been up to another one of their schemes, Logan rolled his eyes. The two best friends were notorious matchmakers who’d had this crazy idea of arranging marriages between Trina Scott’s three daughters and Amy Warren’s three sons. Crazy like a fox maybe. Because God had a sense of humor, their matchmaking plans hadn’t turned out exactly as they’d expected, but they could still claim two successes. Matthew and Haley were happily married, and Dylan and Jenna were engaged.
Could his mother and Mrs. Scott have planned a ruse to bring their last two single children together and have forgotten to cancel it in the chaos following his mother’s stroke?
“Oh, I don’t think—” She stopped herself, but her cheeks flamed a pretty pink.
“It shouldn’t surprise us, you know.”
Caroline stared back at him. He knew he should look away, but he couldn’t. Though he had yet to turn on the overhead lights, electricity filled the room. From the way her pupils enlarged and she chewed her bottom lip, he could tell that she sensed it, too.
“Logan, that’s not why I’m here.”
“What?” He blinked, trying to clear his thoughts.
She worked the keys between her fingers. “Mom asked me to help you run the bakery until your mother gets better.”
“Right. I knew that.” He swallowed, trying to look as natural as possible for a guy who’d just made a fool of himself. That was what he got for letting a pretty woman distract him from more important matters.
“You didn’t think…?”
“Of course not.” But he had thought Mrs. Scott and his brothers supported his offer to run the bakery alone, and he’d been wrong about that, too. “Our mothers would know better than to try that matchup. City-girl corporate climber with Nature Boy, as you’ve called me?”
She chewed her lip, but she didn’t snap at the bait as he would have expected. Witty banter was standard fare in their two families.
“They should know better.” She breathed an audible sigh of relief. “I promised to put myself up for adoption if they ever even thought about trying to set me up again. After being set up with both of your brothers, I’ve hit my lifetime quota.”
She was agreeing with him, but her apparent relief that their mothers weren’t matchmaking annoyed him. The look between them that she’d made no effort to break, the black of her pupils as they’d stretched over her blue irises. Since when did he misread the signals of attraction, anyway? Usually his instincts with women were spot-on—and he’d dated enough of them to know—so it baffled him that this time he’d read the signs all wrong.
As if she’d already forgotten the uncomfortable moment, Caroline stepped toward the display case again and studied the price list on the wall. “We’ll have this place in shape in no time.”
Logan sighed. Wasn’t it enough that he’d practically had to arm-wrestle his brothers, a pregnant sister-in-law and a future sister-in-law for the opportunity to run the bakery? It exhausted him to think that Mrs. Scott’s other daughter was going to argue with him over the job, as well.
“Look, I appreciate your coming all the way from Chicago, but I have things under control here.”
He expected an argument, so her sad expression surprised him.
“I was sorry to hear about your mom’s…illness.”
“Stroke,” he corrected.
“Right. Stroke.” She winced at the word. “Mrs. Warren’s an amazing lady. I’m sure she’ll be just fine.”
“Thanks.”
The tears in her eyes convinced him not to mention the long rehabilitation his mother had ahead. It touched him that Caroline seemed to really care about his mother. And even if what she’d said was a platitude like those so many others had spoken this past week, he desperately wanted to believe she was right. He just wanted his mother back.
“Well, you’ll probably want to get to the hospital for visiting hours. Mom will love seeing you.” He paused, searching for the right words to show her he appreciated her compassion even if he didn’t need her help. “Would you like me to call your mother and let her know you’re coming?”
“But my mom said—”
Because she stopped herself, Logan guessed he wouldn’t appreciate whatever her mother really had said. “Caroline, I’m sorry you went to so much trouble, taking off work and all to come here—”
“It wasn’t any trouble.”
Clearly, she wasn’t going to make this easy. He cleared his throat. “Anyway…I hate that you’ve wasted your time, but your mother must have misunderstood what we needed here. I already took leave from my job, and I want to do this for Mom.”
“Since we’re both here, why don’t we work together?”
“Together? Like a team?” He tilted his head to study her. “I hate to tell you this, but you’re not the best team player. You have to be captain or camp counselor or even head honcho like you are at that mega-mall.”
She coughed into her hand.