“Well, that’s one way to get her to show up. Just saying.”
“I guess. But she’s not responding to my texts, so maybe I shouldn’t bother, especially if you’re willing. I’d love to have you there, Mari. If you’re free, I mean.”
“I’m free, and I’d love to go. I’m crazy about cake.” And while I didn’t share the same hero worship as the other girls, I didn’t mind the fact that Derrick planned to be there. Not one bit.
At four o’clock that afternoon, after working several hours at the bank, I sat at a table across from a very nice woman at Crème de la Crème, Houston’s most celebrated cake shop. Crystal, Phillip, and I chatted with the sales rep—if that’s what one called a cake salesperson—until Derrick arrived. He rushed through the door, pulled off his sunglasses, and squinted, as if waiting for his eyes to adjust to the change in lighting.
Standing there, with the shimmer of sunlight beaming through the glass door behind him, Derrick looked a bit like one of those old church paintings of the apostles. He had a heavenly glow about him. Fascinating.
Not that my gaze remained on his face. Those broad shoulders swept me in at once. Apparently I wasn’t the only one to take notice of his tall, athletic physique. The minute the good-looking ballplayer took a couple of hesitant steps our direction, the sales rep could barely string two words together. Not that I blamed her. Something about the guy suddenly made me scatterbrained too. And hungry for nacho dip.
Just a few minutes into the taste testing, however, my jitters evaporated. It happened just about the time Derrick shoveled a big bite of white cake with raspberry filling and cream cheese frosting into his mouth.
“Ooh. Mmm.” He closed his eyes and licked his lips before his eyes popped open again. “I’m gonna go with this one.” The blissful expression on his face convinced me. We’d go with the white cake with raspberry filling, no doubt about it. Not that this was my wedding, of course.
“I like the chocolate cake, though.” My sister looked at Phillip, and he nodded in agreement.
“We have a new dark chocolate hazelnut you might like to try, then. It will take just a few minutes for me to bring you a sample.” The sales rep left for the room in the back.
“How are we ever going to decide on just one?” Crystal shook her head. “This is too hard.”
“You’re right about that.” Phillip looked just as confounded. “Who knew it would be this hard? I thought we’d just walk in, take a couple of bites, and order a cake.”
Derrick took another bite, and this time a look of contentment came over him. “You don’t have to settle on only one. Each tier can be a different flavor.”
I nodded. “Sure. People do it all the time. How many tiers is your cake going to be, Crystal?”
“I don’t know.” My sister looked panicked. “Haven’t even thought about it. Should I know that?”
“How many guests are you expecting?” Derrick asked. “The number of tiers depends on the number of guests.” He went on to share details about how many people each tier could feed, depending on the overall size of the cake.
“How do you know all that?” Crystal looked as amazed as I was.
“I know my cakes.” Derrick waggled his eyebrows. “My mom bakes wedding cakes.”
“What? Your mom is a baker?” Crystal slapped herself on the forehead. “Then what are we doing here?”
Phillip cleared his throat. “My parents suggested Crème de la Crème because all their friends use it. I think it’s more of a social thing. Their friends expect it.”
“Right.” Crystal nodded and sighed.
Derrick shrugged. “No biggie. I think a wedding cake for three hundred might be more than my mom could handle, anyway. She’s up to her eyeballs in other events around that same time, I think. But if you need anything for a bridal shower, for instance, I’m sure she’d love to be involved. She’s pretty amazing.”
Hearing the man talk about his mom made me smile. So . . . he was easy on the eyes and a family guy as well.
My sister smiled too. Well, until her phone rang. She glanced down and sighed. “It’s Sienna.”
“Ah.” I should’ve come up with a more enthusiastic response, but nothing came to mind. My gaze shifted to Derrick as I tried to gauge his reaction. He was too busy staring at the cake samples to notice.
As Crystal turned her attention to the phone call, Phillip engaged Derrick in a conversation about an upcoming ball game. I tried to pay attention, but I found myself distracted by a loose strand of hair on Derrick’s forehead. I wanted to take my index finger and nudge it into place. Instead, I cleared my throat and focused on the plate of cake samples, which proved to be equally as tempting.