Then she’d driven away. What had she been thinking? Did she like him at all? She hadn’t acted like it, and yet he’d thought he’d glimpsed something in her eyes. Something that made him think she might be feeling this, too.
Then again, she’d driven off pretty fast. That couldn’t be the best sign.
“There you are, big brother. You’ve been hiding.” Chloe swept close in her cloud of a dress.
“You know me. All this fancy stuff makes me itch.”
She slipped her arm through his. “You look dashing. Five of my former sorority sisters asked me if you were seeing someone.”
“And you said…?”
“That you seem to be interested in someone. But if I’m wrong, I have a long list of available women I can set you up with, Mr. Most Eligible Bachelor.”
“You know I had nothing to do with that. It’s not me.” That only made him feel more out of place. Like he was a rich playboy looking for a fast lifestyle or a great catch for a debutante—both equally wrong.
All he wanted was to trade in this getup for his favorite T-shirt, jeans and his broken-in work boots. That’s who he really was, and all this glam and glitter made his palms sweat. He swept his hand toward the cake. “You don’t need to set me up with a date. I can do it myself.”
“Would you rather Mom did it? She’s working on it, you know. I was just trying to help out.”
“I know.” If anyone knew how rough of a time he’d had after the breakup with Whitney, it was Chloe. She meant well. “I can handle it from here.”
“I never doubted it.” She rose up on tiptoe to brush a sisterly kiss to his cheek. “I want you to be happy. I saw how you looked at Ava at my shower.”
“Exactly how was that?”
“Like you were glimpsing heaven. Don’t worry, I haven’t said anything to her, but you should ask her out. I bet she says yes.”
“I’ve tried that, but I don’t think she likes me.” Like he needed his baby sister’s dating advice. He could handle his own love life just fine. “She said no.”
“And since when does Brice Donovan take no for an answer?” She flounced away, grinning over her shoulder at him. “Try again, silly. Look out, here comes Mom.”
The problem was, his mother had been dropping some pretty strong hints lately. Now that she had Chloe successfully matched, she must be refocusing her energy on him. She seemed determined as she barreled through the crowd. Flawless, dressed in diamonds and flowing silk, she looked deceptively like a genteel upper-class lady instead of the five-star general she really was.
“Brice. You have been hiding again.” She tugged at his tie, unknotted and hanging loose. “This isn’t a barnyard. And what are you doing all the way over here? What are people going to think?”
He accepted the china dessert plate a server handed him. “Maybe people will think that I’m having a second piece of cake.”
“Yes. The cake. Horrible, that’s what it is. I don’t know what Chloe was thinking going with that McKaslin girl.”
“That she wanted her friend to make her wedding cake.”
“Ridiculous. That cake is unsophisticated and completely unacceptable. And the taste of it, why, it’s much too sweet. What is wrong with that girl? I told Chloe. I said, you’re going to regret going with her.”
“Mom, stop. You’re doing it again.”
“But did she listen to me? No, she had to have her own way. We ought to have gone with a professional, not some iffy girl who thinks because our family is richer than hers, she has the right to charge us an arm and a leg.”
He laid a hand on his mom’s arm to stop her. Sometimes she got such a wind going—sort of like gravity’s effect on a snowball rolling downhill—that she simply couldn’t realize what she was saying. “Chloe’s happy, and that’s all that matters. Besides, how much did Ava charge?”
“Ava, is it?” Mom’s face pinched, something only she could do and still look dignified. “I wouldn’t be so familiar with her if I were you. Her family has money, goodness, but that mother of hers.”
“People have been known to say the same thing about Chloe.” He said it gently, because he knew his mother didn’t mean to be harsh. She simply wasn’t aware of it. “I think Ava did an amazing job. So does everyone else in the room. Maybe you should learn to like sweet. You’re awfully fond of the bitter.”
“That had better not be a veiled reference to me, young man.” His mom smiled and tried to hide it, but her eyes were twinkling. “I work hard for this reputation. If people aren’t afraid of you, they take advantage. Now, come with me and say hello to a few of my dear friends.”
“To the daughters of your friends, you mean.”
“Crystal Frost is back from her disastrous divorce to that big real estate broker in Seattle. She’s perfect for you.”
“Perfect? I don’t think so.” He took a bite of cake, and sweetness flooded his mouth. The frosting was as rich as cream cheese, and the cake was delicious and buttery. Perfect.
“Hello, Brice. Excuse me.” One of his mother’s friends had sauntered over and gestured toward the cake. “Lynn, this is all so lovely. I came to plead for the name of the designer. My Carly must have a cake like this for her wedding.”
Brice knew it would probably drain his mother of her life energy to say something kind about anyone. She was his mom, so he tried to save her from herself. And he wanted to help the cute baker, even if she didn’t want to have coffee with him. “Ava McKaslin is the designer and I highly recommend her. Chloe loved working with her.”
“Oh, let me think which McKaslin girl. Oh, of course. The friend of your sister’s. One of the twins?”
“Yep. She has a shop off Cherry Lane. My company starts renovation on it this week.”
“I know which shop you mean. Why, thank you, Brice. You do know that my Crystal is back from Seattle. She’s here somewhere.” Maxime scanned the room. “Where did she go?”
Uh-oh. Time to escape while he could. “I have to go. Mrs. Frost, it was good seeing you again. Bye, Mom.”
He left quickly and didn’t look back. It wasn’t until he hit the foyer that he realized he still had hold of his dessert plate. Ava’s cake. As if he couldn’t quite let her go.
* * *
The only reason Ava heard her cell ring was because of the break between songs. The electronic chime echoed in the silence of her shop’s kitchen. She set down her pastry cone, hit the Pause button on her CD player and went in search of her phone.
Not in her apron pocket. Not on the kitchen counter. She followed the electronic ringing to her gym bag. She unzipped the outside compartment and ta da, there it was.
As she grabbed her phone, she realized it was after four. Mrs. Carnahan was supposed to drop by for the birthday cake in ten minutes! Good thing it was almost done. Well, it would be done if she’d stop fussing. But after this morning’s disaster, she wanted this cake to be perfect.
She flipped open the phone. “I’m late, I know. I was supposed to call an hour ago. My bad.”
Instead of her sister’s sensible response, a man’s resonant chuckle vibrated in her ear. “Keeping your boyfriend waiting?”
It took her a moment to place that voice. Brice Donovan. If he was calling,