Rory’s grin widened. “So you’ll come? Setup is around five. We’ll do a reception type thing, with tables and booths for the vendors, and then we’ll have a good home-cooked meal.”
“I’ll be there,” Alec replied. “Just don’t try to set me up with any women.”
Preacher shot him a pained glance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
* * *
Marla walked into the fellowship hall of the eclectic Millbrook Lake Church and started setting up the many platters and cake dishes she used to display and serve her cupcakes. Pastor Sanderson had called her last week to ask her about showing and selling some of her baked goods at Wednesday’s single-and-social business-night get-together.
“You’re not trying to set me up with anyone, are you?” she’d asked through a grin.
“Nah, just trying to get some networking going. Word of mouth is the best form of advertising and with your cupcakes, I’d say we’ll give new meaning to that phrase. People will be talking with their mouths full.”
“You are such a cutup, Preacher,” she’d replied. “I’ll be there. Thanks for inviting me. And this batch will be on me.”
After unloading her serving trays and tiered plates she went back to the van to bring the first tray of cookies and cupcakes to the table where a placard read Marla’s Marvelous Desserts. She and her staff had made around five dozen luscious little muffins in flavors ranging from Red Velvet Reality to Vanilla Velocity and Cinnamon Cream Cheese Calamity. She liked to name her concoctions to get attention. She’d even made a batch for Pastor Rory: Preachin’ It Pecan Praline.
“Need some help?”
Marla turned from the creamy beige tablecloth to find Pastor Rory heading her way. The tall, relaxed minister was about as enticing as her cupcakes. He had shaggy sunshine-bleached blond hair, a boyish grin and blue-gray eyes that were always laughing. Most would think he surfed all day but this man did a lot of his surfing in the Bible. He was the best minister in the world. He’d sure helped Marla through some rough patches, but they were just good friends. Preacher liked tending to his sheep as much as she loved tending to her bakery items.
She nodded. “I have three more of these big covered pans out in the van. If you help, I’ll give you a cupcake, no charge.”
“I will accept that offer,” he said, already walking backward toward the open door into the fellowship hall. “Even though I know you’re giving them all out for free anyway.”
She laughed and went back to her work, setting up her cupcakes on the platters and cake stands she’d brought in earlier and marking the flavors with cards one of her employees had printed out. Humming to herself, Marla got lost in arranging 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,