On the one hand, she was glad he’d left so fast, glad something—whatever it was—had broken the spell. That felt a lot safer than all their laughing and joking and bonding. Safer than the way she’d felt her heart bloom under his praise for her baking. Safer than noticing how his eyes lit with extra fire when he looked at her.
Fire. See? Time to quit playing with it, before she let her heart go up in smoke.
After she’d tortured herself with all the possible reasons for him to leave so quickly, in the end she had done nothing. Nothing but stall in making a decision while checking her watch, playing Candyland with Zoe, and hosting a pretend baking contest for her daughter’s plethora of stuffed animals.
And now, in a few minutes, the decision would most likely be made for her.
Charlotte maneuvered the two giant trays of cinnamon pecan petit fours out of the back of her van, grateful Julie was with her this evening for the delivery. Thankfully, the engagement party started after the bakery closed for the day, so one of them didn’t have to stay to man the counter. After last week’s confusing and emotional interaction with Will, Charlotte was grateful for her friend’s company and the distraction she offered.
And thankful for the extra set of arms.
“Anything else, Boss?” Julie teased as Charlotte set the second covered tray of petit fours into Julie’s arms and shut the door to the van. She pretended to stagger under the weight. “I could juggle or spin some plates for you real quick.”
“Very funny.” Charlotte took the second tray back, and motioned for Julie to walk first up the walkway to the house—no, on second glance, make that mansion—that was hosting the party.
“What a house,” Julie mumbled as they made their way up the bricked path to the monstrous red door. “They better tip well.”
“Julie!” Charlotte tried to infuse a touch of shock and offense into her tone, but couldn’t quite pull it off since she’d just been hoping for the same thing. If she had to see Will and deal with the awkwardness between them, it had better be worth it.
Her stomach twisted into a nervous knot. Maybe when she saw Will, she’d realize her silly crush had been just that, and had passed. Merely a temporary physical attraction to a handsome man who frequented her shop.
Julie shifted her tray to her shoulder and rang the doorbell. Charlotte tried to look at her watch, but couldn’t risk tilting her own tray. When they pulled up in the van, the clock had read twenty til time for the engagement party to begin. They had deliberately come early to put the petit fours out before the official start, but apparently, the party was already in full swing. Music, heavy with bass, thumped from inside the house, and loud laughter rang from the backyard.
The door swung open, and a middle-aged woman in a white blouse directed them to the kitchen. Charlotte focused on the end goal as they traipsed through multiple rooms, all decorated with black and white balloons and ornate signs congratulating the happy couple. Hopefully they could just leave the disposable heavy trays in the kitchen and head out before she even saw Will.
“Brittany asked if you ladies would please arrange the desserts on the silver holders.” The woman gestured to several sterling tiered stands on the table.
No such luck.
They set down their trays and began arranging the petit fours, which seemed to multiply by the second, onto the decorative stands. The woman bustled away.
“Was she a servant or someone’s mom?” Julie whispered.
Charlotte tucked another petit four into place. “I was wondering the same.”
Julie giggled. “I can’t even imagine all this chaos and expense once I get married. If my wedding or prewedding events cost more than my first house, please promise to slap me.”
“I promise.” At this rate, Charlotte didn’t have to worry about securing the same guarantee. Always a baker, never a bride. For now, that seemed the safer route, for both her and Zoe.
She glanced at Julie’s progress unloading the petit fours. “Try to hurry. I’ve got to pick up Zoe from her after-school babysitter.” That was part of why she was rushing, anyway. Not a total lie. She cast an anxious glance toward the picture window displaying the yard, but couldn’t see well enough to know if Will was anywhere in sight.
“Are they here yet?” Brittany’s strident voice preceded her entrance into the kitchen by mere seconds. Not nearly long enough to brace for the onslaught.
“Finally. Better late than never, I guess.” Brittany swirled the contents of her champagne glass and raised it in acknowledgment.
Beside her, Julie stiffened at the insult, and Charlotte quickly handed her another petit four to place on the stand before her friend could voice the thoughts rolling through both their heads. “Ignore her. She’s tipsy,” she whispered.
“That’s still not an excuse to be rude.”
Charlotte snorted. “You should have seen her sober.”