Not that there was a groom in sight.
Zoe’s voice finally registered through her drifting thoughts. “Mommy, can I have a cookie?”
“Have you already had one today?” She couldn’t remember in the Saturday rush if she’d given one to Zoe with her ham sandwich for lunch.
“No.”
“Look me in the eyes, Zoe.” Charlotte looked up from her piping bag long enough to lock gazes with her daughter across the room. Used to the drill, Zoe stared back, wide-eyed, open, honest. Sincere.
Eyes didn’t lie.
“Okay, you may have just one.”
“Chocolate chip?”
Charlotte smiled. “What else? It’s your favorite.”
Zoe scrambled out of her seat and hurried to claim her prize. Charlotte snagged a chocolate-chip cookie from the top rack and handed it over the counter to her.
“Julie! This cake’s ready for the van.” Charlotte tucked the corners of the lid inside the turquoise folds of the box, trying not to think about her to-do list. Normally, she loved lists. She was almost addicted to the rush that came with productivity and accomplishment, the thrill that came with checking off a completed item. She’d even taught Zoe the principle, and was constantly finding pink sticky notes that read Potty and Play with dolls stuck around their apartment.
But next on her list was meeting with one Will Martin, and—well, that was going to complicate her afternoon, not streamline it.
“Mommy?” Zoe said, more persistent this time as her heels kicked against the chair legs. “I’m bored.”
Of course she was. Charlotte wrestled the last corner fold into the box. “Your books are in the kitchen, sweetie.”
“Which ones?” Zoe twisted a blonde braid around one finger and narrowed her eyes.
Charlotte wracked her brain to remember which ones she had grabbed on the way out the door, but she couldn’t concentrate. Could barely remember her own name, much less story titles. “Um. If You Give a Moose a Muffin, I think.”
Zoe made a face. “I’ve read that one three times.”
“The two dozen cupcakes for the Lopez birthday party are out of the oven and cooling.” Julie came from the kitchen, cupcake batter smeared across the front of her apron, and tucked a stray strand of red hair behind her ear. “These cakes go to the Sinclair wedding, right?”
“Yes, and those too. It’s a three layer.” Charlotte pointed to the other two boxes awaiting delivery on the counter behind them. “Keys should be on the ring by the back door.”
“Mommy? What other books are there?”
Charlotte closed her eyes. “Zoe. I don’t know, honey. Goodnight Moon?”
“That’s a baby book.”
“Two steps ahead of you, Boss.” Julie jingled the keys in her hand. “Why aren’t you taking these, by the way? Normally you like to be the Cake Naz—I mean, you like to set up layered cakes yourself.”
Charlotte wrinkled her nose at her friend. “I’ve told you not to call me Boss.” Julie was teasing, of course, about the Cake Nazi. She just liked things to be under control. Simple—no messes. And she couldn’t guarantee perfection if she wasn’t there to oversee it for herself.
But today . . .
“Remember? I have a three o’clock consultation.” She tried to keep her voice even, but despite the effort, her voice rose half an octave. Why was she so nervous? Will Martin didn’t have the potential to be anything more than a temporary client. She’d met his pretty-boy type before, plenty of times, and had no intention of going down that road again. What she needed was stability. Commitment. A man of honor and loyalty, who kept his promises.
Unfortunately, most of those men didn’t come in Will-size packages—at least not in Charlotte’s experience. She needed a small, contained bonfire. Smoldering sparks in a fire pit. Will was more like a Colorado wildfire—and she’d been burned enough.
This time, she refused to let Zoe get caught in the smoke.
Julie frowned in confusion. “Wait. Is this the consultation for that Bridezilla who is making her best man choose the cake?”
“Yes.” Charlotte cleared her throat.
Julie put her hands on her hips, keys jangling. “Then why don’t you let me go through the initial run-through with him, while you take the cakes?”
“Because.” Flustered, Charlotte tried in vain to think of an excuse that would sound like anything other than what it was. “Just . . . because. Please?”
“You got it, Boss.” Julie tossed the keys in the air with one hand and caught them deftly in the other. “But when I get back, I expect a better explanation than that.”
“I want to go!” Zoe slid down from her chair and danced first on one foot, then the other. “Can I help make the delivery?”
Julie shrugged. “Sure, kiddo. If it’s okay with your mom.”
“That’s fine. Her car seat is already in the back.” Charlotte breathed a little easier as Zoe grabbed her for a good-bye hug. Now Zoe would have something to do and wouldn’t interrupt the consultation.