Page 21 of Fairy Cakes in Winter

“It’s a date!” I blurt-yelled and added, “Not a real date. Just an airplane acquaintance friend date.”

Scott quirked a swoony half smile. “Right. Give me your number.”

We exchanged contact info; then I grabbed my macarons and headed outside to wait for Giles—where I promptly melted against the wall with my mouth wide open.

I had a date.

Right?

I mean, if you asked someone for coffee and they upped it to a meal, that was code for “I’m interested.” Short-term interested, anyway. As in, maybe just lunch, which was fine by me.

Maybe we’d kiss again.

Or maybe he’d confess that he’d lied on the plane and that he was actually married with four kids and another on the way or wanted by the police in three countries and—

No, no. Scott wasn’t a scoundrel. Sure, he was slightly dangerous-looking with that thick beard and those piercing eyes, but I felt safe with him.

And at the end of the day, it was just food.

On that thought, I broke the seal on the pastry box and stuffed a macaron in my mouth. This was good.

4

Scott

“Who was the cutie with the bobble hat?”

I frowned as I finished calculating the day’s receipts and glanced up at Becca. “Huh?”

“The plane acquaintance?” she offered with an amused grin. “The one you sent off with thirty pounds worth of macarons.”

Of course, Becca would have noticed that.

Yeah, I was the sole owner of Scott’s Bakery, but Becca shared space in my kitchen for a percentage of her earnings. She volunteered to help me manage things too, so in a way, she had a stake in the business. Our individual success was tied to the combined success of my cakes and her pies.

But Theo wasn’t business. He was personal. And I had no idea how to explain him to my good friend and business associate, who I was beginning to worry liked me…as inreallyliked me. I didn’t know how to address this weird new dynamic or if it was something that would play itself out.

C’mon, she knew I was a terrible catch and a deeply flawed dude with hang-ups and all kinds of bullshit I didn’t talk about anymore. She knew I didn’t do feelings…or talking. Or talking about feelings.

Becca Parker was one of my closest friends and I loved her—as a friend. We’d bonded making desserts for a pastry tyrant in the kitchen of a Michelin-star restaurant and became fast friends. She was a whimsical thirtysomething who wore kitschy tights with rainbows, tulle skirts, and combat boots. She loved cats, chick lit, old movies, and baking.

Nothing got her down. Soggy bottoms, crumbling crust, underdone meringue? No problem. When I complained about the weather, she always had a spare umbrella. When I mentioned missing my friends back home, she introduced me to her friends. Becca was the relentlessly cheerful counterpart to my cynical self.

Like Theo.

But I didn’t have romantic feelings for her. And whatever I felt for Theo was X-rated and confusing.

Bottom line, those two worlds shouldn’t have crossed. Since they had, I had to come up with a reason for handing over a small fortune worth of macarons to a cute guy.

I tapped my pen on the counter. “Theo’s an accountant who used to be in marketing. We talked about promotional ideas on the flight and—”

“And you bribed him with macarons for a bit of magical marketing sorcery. Brilliant!” She waggled her brows and gestured toward my laptop before I could set her straight. “How’d we do today?”

“Not great.”

Becca sighed dramatically and skirted the counter as she buttoned her red coat. “I don’t understand. The shop was bloody well mobbed this afternoon.”

“Yeah, well…that helped, but I’m worried that this pop-up idea only works if you’re in it for the long haul.”