The Cupcake Diaries Recipe For Love Part 11

"Say 'please,' and tell him about our tradition," Kim suggested.

"Offer him money." Rachel dug through her dilapidated Gucci knockoff purse and withdrew a ten-dollar bill. "And let him know we're celebrating your sister's birthday."

"You did promise me a cupcake for my birthday," Kim said with an impish grin. "Besides, the guy doesn't look like he plans to eat it. He hasn't even glanced at the cupcake since the old woman came in and delivered the box."

Andi tucked a loose strand of blond hair behind her ear and drew in a deep breath. She wasn't used to taking food from anyone. Usually she was on the other end-giving it away. Her fault. She didn't plan ahead.

Why couldn't any of the businesses here be open twenty-four hours like in Portland? Out of the two dozen eclectic cafes and restaurants along the Astoria waterfront promising to satisfy customers' palates, shouldn't at least one cater to late-night customers like herself? No, they all shut down at 10:30, some earlier, as if they knew she was coming. That's what she got for living in a small town. Antic.i.p.ation but no cake.

However, she was determined not to let her younger sister down. She'd promised Kim a cupcake for her twenty-sixth birthday, and she'd try her best to procure one, even if it meant making a fool of herself.

Andi shot her ever-popular friend Rachel a wry look. "You know you're better at this than I am."

Rachel grinned. "You're going to have to start interacting with the opposite s.e.x again sometime."

Maybe. But not on the personal level, Rachel's tone suggested. Andi's divorce the previous year had left behind a bitter aftertaste no amount of sweet talk could dissolve.

Pushing back her chair, she stood up. "Tonight, all I want is the cupcake."

ANDI HAD TAKEN only a few steps when the man with the bakery box turned his head and smiled.

He probably thought she was coming over, hoping to find a date. Why shouldn't he? The Captain's Port was filled with people looking for a connection, if not for a lifetime, then at least for the time they shared within the friendly confines of the restaurant's casual, communal atmosphere.

She hesitated midstep before continuing forward. Heat rushed into her cheeks. Dressed in jeans and a navy blue tie and sport jacket, he was even better looking than she'd first thought. Thirtyish. Light brown hair, fair skin, sparkling chocolate brown eyes, oh my. He could have his pick of any woman in the place. Any woman in Astoria, Oregon.

"Hi," he said.

Andi swallowed the nervous tension gathering at the back of her throat and managed a smile in return. "Hi. I'm sorry to bother you, but it's my sister's birthday, and I promised her a cupcake." She nodded toward the see-through box and waved the ten-dollar bill. "Is there any chance I can persuade you to sell the one you have here?"

His eyebrows shot up. "You want my cupcake?"

"I meant to bake a batch this afternoon," she gushed, her words tumbling over themselves, "but I ended up packing spring break lunches for the needy kids in the school district. Have you heard of the Kids' Coalition backpack program?"

He nodded. "Yes, I think the Astoria Sun featured the free lunch backpack program on the community page a few weeks ago."

"I'm a volunteer," she explained. "And after I finished, I tried to buy a cupcake but didn't get to the store in time. I've never let my sister down before, and I feel awful."

The new addition to her list of top ten dream-worthy males leaned back in his chair and pressed his lips together, as if considering her request, then shook his head. "I'd love to help you, but-"

"Please." Andi gasped, appalled she'd stooped to begging. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. "I understand if you can't, it's just that my sister, Kim, my friend Rachel, and I have a tradition."

"What kind of tradition?"

Andi pointed to their table, and Kim and Rachel smiled and waved. "Our birthdays are s.p.a.ced four months apart, so we split a celebration cupcake three ways and set new goals for ourselves from one person's birthday to the next. It's easier than trying to set goals for an entire year."

"I don't suppose you could set your goals without the cupcake?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with amus.e.m.e.nt.

Andi smiled. "It wouldn't be the same."

"If the cupcake were mine to give, it would be yours. But this particular cupcake was delivered for a research project I have at work."

"Wish I had your job." Andi dropped into the chair he pulled out for her and placed her hands flat on the table. "What if I told you it's been a really tough day, tough week, tough year?"

He pushed his empty coffee cup aside, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward. "I'd say I could argue the same."

"But did you spend the last three hours running all over town looking for a cupcake?" she challenged, playfully mimicking Rachel's flirtatious, sing-song tone. "The Pig 'n Pancake was closed, along with the supermarket, and the cafe down the street said they don't even sell them anymore. And then . . . I met you."

He covered her left hand with his own, and although the unexpected contact made her jump, she ignored the impulse to pull her fingers away. His gesture seemed more an act of compa.s.sion than anything else, and, frankly, she liked the feel of his firm yet gentle touch.

"What if I told you," he said, leaning forward, "that I've traveled five hundred and seventy miles and waited sixty-three days to taste this one cupcake?"

Andi leaned toward him as well. "I'd say that's ridiculous. There's no cupcake in Astoria worth all that trouble."

"What if this particular cupcake isn't from Astoria?"

"No?" She took another look at the box but didn't see a label. "Where's it from?"

"Hollande's French Pastry Parlor outside of Portland."

"What if I told you I would send you a dozen Hollande's cupcakes tomorrow?"

"What if I told you," he said, stopping to release a deep, throaty chuckle, "this is the last morsel of food I have to eat before I starve to death today?"

Andi laughed. "I'd say that's a good way to go. Or I could invite you to my place and cook you dinner."

Her heart stopped, stunned by her own words, then rebooted a moment later when their gazes locked, and he smiled at her.

"You can have the cupcake on one condition."

"Which is?"

Giving her a wink, he slid the bakery box toward her. Then he leaned his head in close and whispered in her ear.

An Excerpt from THE CUPCAKE DIARIES: TASTE OF ROMANCE.

All I really need is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt!

-Charles Schulz FOCUS, KIM REPRIMANDED herself. Keep to the task at hand and stop eavesdropping on other people's conversations.

But she didn't need to hear the crack of the teenage boy's heart to feel his pain. Or to remember the last time she'd heard the wretched words "I'm leaving" spoken to her.

She tried to ignore the couple as she picked up the pastry bag filled with pink icing and continued to decorate the tops of the strawberry preserve cupcakes. However, the discussion between the high school boy and what she a.s.sumed to be his girlfriend kept her attentive.

"When will I see you again?" he asked.

Kim glanced toward them, leaned closer, and held her breath.

"I don't know," the girl replied.

The soft lilt in her accent thrust the familiarity of the conversation even deeper into Kim's soul.

"I'll be going to the university for two years," the girl continued. "Maybe we meet again after."

Not likely. Kim shook her head, and her stomach tightened. From past experience, she knew once the school year was over in June, most foreign students went home, never to return.

And left many broken hearts in their wake.

"Two years is a long time," the boy said.

Forever was even longer. Kim drew in a deep breath as the unmistakable catch in the poor boy's voice replayed again and again in her mind. And her heart.

How long were they going to stand there and torment her and remind her of her parting four years earlier with Gavin, the Irish student she'd dated through college? Dropping the bag of icing on the Creative Cupcakes counter, she moved toward them.

"Can I help you?" Kim asked, pulling on a new pair of food handler's gloves.

"I'll have the white chocolate macadamia," the girl said, pointing to the cupcake she wanted in the gla.s.s display case.

The boy dug his hands into his pockets, counted the meager change he'd managed to withdraw, and turned five shades of red.

"None for me." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "How much for hers?"

"You have to have one, too," the girl protested. "It's your birthday."

Kim took one look at his lost-for-words expression and said, "If today is your birthday, the cupcakes are free." She added, "For both you and your guest."

The teenage boy's face brightened. "Really?"

Kim nodded and removed the cupcakes the two lovebirds wanted from the display case. She even put a birthday candle on one of them, a heart on the other. Maybe the girl would come back for him. Or he would fly to Ireland for her. Maybe.

Her eyes stung, and she squeezed them shut for a brief second. When she opened them again, she set her jaw. Enough was enough. Now that they had their cupcakes, she could escape back into her work and forget about romance and relationships and every regrettable moment she'd ever wasted on love.

She didn't need it. Not like her older sister, Andi, who had recently lost her heart to Jake Hartman, their Creative Cupcakes financer and news writer for the Astoria Sun. Or like her other co-owner friend, Rachel, who had just gotten engaged to Mike Palmer, a miniature model maker for movies who also doubled as the driver of their Cupcake Mobile.

All she needed was to dive deep into her desire to put paint on canvas. She glanced at the walls of the cupcake shop, adorned with her scenic oil, acrylic, and watercolor paintings. Maybe if she worked hard enough, she'd have the money to open her own art gallery, and she wouldn't need to decorate cupcakes anymore.

But for now, she needed to serve the next customer. Where was Rachel?

"Hi, Kim." Officer Ian Lockwell, one of their biggest cupcake supporters, sat on one of the stools lining the marble cupcake counter. "I'm wondering if you have the back party room available on June twenty-seventh?"

Kim reached under the counter and pulled out the three-ring binder she, Andi, and Rachel had dubbed the "Cupcake Diary" to keep track of all things cupcake related. Looking at the calendar, she said, "Yes, the date is open. What's the occasion?"

"My wife and I have been married almost fifteen years," the big square-jawed cop told her. "We're planning on renewing our vows on our anniversary and need a place to celebrate with friends and family."

"No better place to celebrate love than Creative Cupcakes," Kim a.s.sured him, glancing around at all the couples in the shop. "I'll put you on the schedule."

Next, the door opened, and a stream of romance writers filed in for their weekly meeting. Kim pressed her lips together. The group intimidated her with their watchful eyes and poised pens. They scribbled in their notebooks whenever she walked by as if writing down her every move, and she didn't want to give them any useful fodder. She hoped Rachel could take their orders, if she could find her.

"Rachel?"

No answer, but the phone rang-a welcome distraction. She picked up and said, "Creative Cupcakes, this is Kim."

"What are you doing there? I thought you were going to take time off."

Kim pushed into the privacy of the kitchen, glad it was her sister, Andi, and not another customer despite the impending lecture tone. "I still have several dozen cupcakes to decorate."

"Isn't Rachel there with you?"

The door of the walk-in pantry burst open, and Rachel and Mike emerged, wrapped in each other's arms, laughing and grinning.

Kim rolled her eyes. "Yes, Rachel's here."

Rachel extracted herself from Mike's embrace and mouthed the word "Sorry."

But Kim knew she wasn't. Rachel had been in her own red-headed, happy bubble ever since macho, dark-haired Mike the Magnificent had proposed two weeks earlier.

"I'll be in for my shift as soon as I get Mia off to afternoon kindergarten," Andi continued, "and the shop's way ahead in sales. There's no reason you can't take a break. Ever since you broke up with Gavin, you've become a workaholic."

Kim sucked in her breath at the mention of his name. Only Andi dared to ever bring him up.

"Gavin has nothing to do with my work."

"You never date."

"I'm concentrating on my career."

"It's been years since you've been out with anyone. You need to slow down, take time to smell the roses."

"Smell the roses?" Kim gasped. "Are you serious?"

"Go on an adventure," Andi amended.

"Working is an adventure."

"You used to dream of a different kind of adventure," Andi said, lowering her voice. "The kind that requires a pa.s.sport."

Kim wished she'd never picked up the phone. Just because her sister had her life put back together didn't mean she had the right to tell her how to live.

"Painting cupcakes and canvas is the only adventure I need right now. I promised Dad I'd have the money to pay him for my new art easel by the end of the week."

"Dad doesn't care about the money, but he does care about you. He asked me to call."