“Oh, Charger’s at my house right now. He’s doing just fine, taking a nap.”
“Well deserved,” Susanna said. “You ran him for all he was worth.”
“Yeah, about that.” Casey rose to face her. “It’s part of the reason I came by.”
Her eyes shifted away from his direct look and she turned to the cabinet to grab a plate. Keep busy, Susie, and keep pretending nothing happened between the two of you. “It is?”
“I go jogging just about every morning. It didn’t occur to me that Charger would make such a darn racket in the neighborhood. He didn’t wake Ally up, did he?”
“No, I don’t think so. She slept well past the time I...looked out my window and saw you.”
He sighed with relief. “Okay, that’s good to hear.”
She placed one of each kind of muffin she’d baked this morning on a plate and gestured toward the table. “Would you like to have a quick cup of coffee with a muffin?”
“No thanks,” he said, sliding into a chair that faced her messy sink and the chipped tiles on the counter. This kitchen, as well as the rest of the house, was a far cry from the luxury Casey was accustomed to now. Audrey had told her he’d invested in a construction company years ago and after the owner retired, Casey became the new CEO. “I don’t want to hold you up. I’ll just have one of these.” He grabbed for the cranberry cheese muffin, took a big bite and chewed thoughtfully. “This is really good.”
“Thanks.” She picked up a raspberry-filled lemon cupcake and set it in a cake box. She was about to say he’d just ruined the calorie burn from his jog, but guys didn’t worry about things like that—not the way women did—and she didn’t want to sound snarky.
She closed the box and sealed it with Scotch Tape.
Casey grabbed another muffin and starting chewing again. “Mmm. What’s this one called?”
“That’s my Sweet and Sassy Caramel-Apple muffin.” When she’d tested out the muffin, she’d refined it to make the apple a little tart. Sweet and Sassy had become a best seller. Her small business needed to provide something a little different in order to survive. Competition was fierce and Susie was learning the ropes one secret ingredient at a time.
“It’s delicious.”
“Thank you.” Was there anything more awkward than having Casey sitting in her kitchen taste-testing her pastries? It was a good thing she had to leave soon and their time together would be cut short.
“So you make deliveries every day?”
“Yes, except on Sunday. I cater to the local coffeehouses and some offices. I do...just about anything that comes up. Parties, birthdays, reunions, anything I can.”
“Must be hard getting it all done.”
A chuckle blurted from her lips. “You just have to look around this place to see how well I’m doing.”
Casey blinked and his expression softened. He didn’t bother to glance around her messy kitchen counters.
Oh, boy, she hadn’t meant to say that. No one knew how she plotted out every second of every day and still didn’t have enough time to do it all. She wasn’t one to complain. She certainly didn’t want his sympathy. He just made her so darned nervous. Without giving him the chance to offer an obligatory polite answer, she asked, “Did you have something else you wanted? When you came over, I got the impression you—”
“What time does Ally go to sleep?”
Where did that question come from? Was he worried about Charger’s barking again? It couldn’t be anything else, could it? Blood pounded through her veins and she took a beat to answer. “Eight-ish...why?”
“I’d like to talk to you tonight, after Ally goes to bed.”
No. No. No. She put her head down, staring at a drop of creamy batter on the floor. “I usually call Mom after Ally goes to bed.”
“It’s important,” he added.
She didn’t want to be alone with him ever again, especially not at night, without Ally as her shield. She had to be up early. She had a headache. She had a friend coming over. Half a dozen other pitiful phony excuses entered her mind.
Finally, she lifted her lids and met his gaze. His blue eyes bored into her in a breathtaking way and all of his charming sincerity hit home. Oh, man. She couldn’t wiggle out of this without looking like a liar. Except for calling her mom to check in and say hello, she had no plans tonight. It was the same old, same old. She sighed. “Okay.”
On a solid nod, he rose from his seat and pointed to the boxes. “Where do these go?”
“In my minivan.”
“I’ll help load them.”
“No, it’s not necessary.... Don’t you have to be somewhere?” she asked. He was dressed to kill. He must have a zillion more important things to do than load up her cupcakes and muffins.
He shrugged and carefully lifted a box in his arms. “Let me worry about that. Is your van in the garage?”
“Yes, uh, thanks.”
He headed toward the door leading to the garage.
With Ally beside her, she grabbed a box and followed him. The garage smelled musty and contained the heat of summery days. It was dark inside until she pressed the garage door opener. Daylight poured through and she squinted as she walked to the end of the van. Balancing a box in one hand she opened the back hatch with the other.
Casey peered inside the van. “Nice set up,” he said. “Did you buy it this way?”
“No. It was converted for me.”
When she didn’t say more, Casey probed, “Your boyfriend do it for you?”
She pursed her lips. Heavens, she didn’t have time for a boyfriend. Dating was a thing of the past. “My mother.”
She guided her box onto one of the metal shelves and Casey did the same with his. His elbow brushed the slope of her breast where her Sweet Susie’s apron met her blouse. Her breath came up short, but she continued on, trying to ignore the warm buzz rippling through her.
“Mom gave me the van on her wedding day. She had the back converted with shelves for my cake boxes and then commissioned a designer to paint my logo on the sides of the van.”
It was a ten-year-old minivan, all that her mother had apologetically said she could afford, but it was in good enough shape for her purposes. Her mom really splurged on the logo design and on the day of her second wedding to Chip Huffman, a man who loved her to distraction, she’d taken Susanna outside, to show her the van. “Accepting this is the best wedding gift you could ever give me. I think your dad would think so too,” she’d said to Susanna.
There was no way to deny her mother the pleasure. Her mom had seen her struggle to get her pastries to customers by stuffing her cake boxes in the trunk and backseat of her beat-up sedan. Often, Susanna would pray to the pothole gods and drive as slowly as eighty-five-year-old Mrs. Simpson from five houses down to deliver her pastries in one piece. Eleanor Hart had skimped on her own wedding just to be able to surprise Susanna with the gift. Susanna had been so grateful and overwhelmed, she’d cried for five full minutes.
“Your mom is a special lady,” Casey said, his smile easy.
Well that was something they both agreed on. Her mother had tended to her dad for years, pretending his declining health hadn’t taken a toll on her as well. But Susanna knew what it had cost her mother. Several years ago, her mom met Chip Huffman through a mutual friend and she’d fallen in love with the Georgia peach grower. Susanna had encouraged the relationship—her mom deserved some happiness in the second half of her life. And now, her mother was