Authors: Camden Leigh
“Sure, um, okay,” Cassidy says. She fans her face. “May I have some water, please?”
“I’ll grab you something from the cooler.” I head toward the drinks near the counter.
She
pats her throat and chest. I feel heat setting in just watching her. Maybe I need the water. I crack one open and take a swig before grabbing another. Sure would like to rub an ice cube across her chest, maybe play connect-the-dots with those freckles.
She hasn’t taken her eyes off me though Ellie is in full ramble. I smile, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Cassidy, hey.” I snap in front of her face.
Her cheeks turn red as the candied strawberries in the display behind her. “Sorry, um. Right.” She points at a tray of cakes. “Let’s check these out, then we can discuss the details when your mom arrives.”
Ellie’s bubbling personality fizzles but peps up when I squeeze into one of the chairs around the small table. She cuts into the cakes. We watch her taste each, her face a plethora of emotions. “The vanilla is okay. What’s this one?”
“Almond,” the chef says.
“That’s delicious.” She loads up a fork and I do the same.
“That is good.” I fork another bite and lift it toward Cassidy. “Taste.”
She grabs the fork but I don’t let go. She hesitates but finally parts her lips and slips the cake off the tines. “Wow, amazing.” She brushes crumbs from her mouth and diverts her gaze.
She down the water I’d brought over and clears her throat.
“More, Cassidy?” I ask.
Maybe I’ll follow up with a taste of that luscious mouth of yours.
“I’m good, thanks. Ellie, what do you think?”
“That’s the cake. Moving on to icing.” She scans the smooth blanket of white covering one sample, then the cloud-like puffs on another. “I don’t know. I like the smooth one but none
of
the whites are the right shade. Mom hates competing colors on a cake.” She taps her fingers against her cheeks and scans the street through the window.
“
Your
day.
Your
cake. Everything should be a reflection of you and the groom.” Cassidy sits back and points at the cakes. “If you want all white because it’s pure and graceful and simplistic, then go with white on white, but if your relationship is vibrant and full of life, don’t ignore it. Make your cake fuchsia. If you guys are earthy and free, go with amber and forest green. Be you. Don’t choose another cake to make your mom happy.”
“I agree.” I interlock my hands behind my head and lean back in the chair. “Mom will get over it.”
Cassidy pauses, looking at me intently. She offers a small smile, then pulls out a sketchbook and flips it open. “I saw a theme in your previous cake selections. Sharp edges softened with curves. Maybe you’ll like this.” She spins it around and holds it out, a nervous tap takes over her foot.
I’d like to reach out and test my theory, see if my touch really does have a calming effect on her, but the sketch grabs my attention. She’s really good. Really detailed.
Ellie traces the curves drifting from the top layer of the cake to the bottom. Navy blue ribbons cascade from the top tier to drape around the base of the oval cake. Gold emblazons every tier with embossed fleur-de-lis patterns so delicate, they could be lace.
“You drew this?” I ask.
She nods, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I know it’s not like any of the examples in your binder, but—”
“I love it! You’re so talented.” She holds the sketch pad out for me to see. “What would the gold lace be made of?”
“
I was thinking chocolate, but I’m sure the chef would know best.”
“Royal icing would hold up in the heat. And I can paint it gold,” he says over Cassidy’s shoulder.
“Then that is it.” Ellie points at the pad. “That’s what I want.”
The chef’s eyes grow wide. A smile spans his face. “I have something else to suggest.” He pushes the kitchen door open and yells to the back.
His helper brings out a mini cake with white fondant covering it and sets it in the middle of the table.
“Take a bite.”
“But I like the almond,” Ellie says, then smiles.
“Try it.”
I reach across the table to grab three more forks. My knee taps against Cassidy’s. She pivots away. I can’t help but mess with her and lean forward to usurp her space. I casually drape my arm across the back of her chair. I’d rather drape it around her, but . . . control.
Ellie cuts into the cake. “Oh, my.” Her lips pull in, tightening over her teeth. She claps her hands and squeals.
The bell on the door rings and Mom, proud and as dazzling as always, walks up to the table. The chef falls over himself to greet her and pulls up another chair. Cassidy shrinks back against her chair. I tap her shoulder, which makes her bolt upright.
Ellie pulls the napkin tucked under the edge of the plate into her lap. She smiles but doesn’t rise. I push back, greet mom with a kiss on the cheek, then move my chair closer to Cassidy’s.
“Here, Mrs. Covington, take my seat.” Cassidy offers up her preferential seating.
“
Sit, sit, sit,” Mom says, and sighs as if this is the last place she wants to be. “Wasn’t expecting a family reunion.”
“I’m sure,” I say. “But here we are.”
Mom pauses but turns away. Replying would take up too much of her precious time. “I gather you’re enjoying the taste testing, Eleanor?”
“Yes, ma’am. I think Cassidy nailed it. We’re done here.” She stands and drops her unused napkin into the seat and tucks in the chair. “Do it like that,” she whispers to the chef while pointing at the cake she’d just cut.
“Conclusions?” Mrs. Covington turns to Cassidy, her fingers dancing along her arm impatiently.
“Ellie has decided on the almond cake. And—”
“Perfect. What else?” Mom interrupts.
“Fondant icing in that white.” Cassidy points at the smooth cake on the sample tray.
“
Mmm-hmmm
. Elegant choice.”
“Ribbons cascading down the layers. Lacelike embellishments.” She leaves out the gold and blue, which I know for a fact Mom would nix.
Smart, Cassidy. You’re a quick study.
“Details, Ms. Beck. I don’t have all day.”
“Right. As my time and Ellie’s is equally important.”
Mom whips her glare on Cassidy.
Maybe not so smart.
“As we have other appointments,” she adds.
I lift an eyebrow in amusement and try to flatline the grin forming on my face.
“The sketch.” Cassidy directs me to hand her the drawing.
I
slip it off my lap and hand it over.
It feels like eons pass before Mom speaks. “No.”
Ellie’s eyes flare. “I love it. It’s so elegant. Look. Victorian.” She points out the lace. “And indigo.”
“And gold. How does that fit into the selections
I’ve
already approved?” She drops the pad on the table. “There is no gold. The cutlery is silver, the ribbon accents, silver. There is no gold.”
“I like the gold. It’s royal and bright. Like sunshine. Daddy loved the sun. He said I was his bouncing ball of golden light. I want the gold.” She nods as if she’s made up her mind and won’t take anything else. “And this.”
She turns her plate around. The inside of the last sample brought out, the one she’d clapped and squealed over. Bold as a midnight sea, the cake is truly indigo.
“Wow. That’s wow.” Cassidy leans toward the table and picks up a large crumb with her fingers. “And we can do this almond flavored?” She looks at the chef.
“Excuse me, Ms. Beck. I hate to interrupt your appraisal, but I believe serving guests that horrid color would be a disaster. Eleanor, think of your dress. What if you drop crumbs? And think of the photographs. It will look like something died in your cake. Go with white.” She shakes her head and pulls her shirttails down under her belt.
Ellie’s lips pull down in the corners.
“It’s great,” I try to add my two cents. “It would photograph fine, if that’s your concern.”
“You photograph scenery,” Mom blurts.
“I still use a camera.”
“Then?” Ellie looks hopeful.
I
glance at the cake, Ellie and then Cassidy. “I’d say . . . delicious.” I cock my chin toward her and scan her plump, kissable lips. “The cake will be delicious.”
“See, it’s perfect.” Ellie gathers her things.
Cassidy presses her water bottle against her cheek and rolls it across her lips.
Mrs. Covington pokes the blue cake with the knife. “Eleanor, I—”
“I’ll take the cake in the sketch, dark blue”—she points at the dyed cake— “and tasting like almonds. I’ll meet y’all at the dress shop.” And then she bolts, leaving me and Cassidy to deal with Mom’s consternation.
I quickly rise and suggest Cassidy do the same with a tap. I offer my hand and gesture toward the door. “Got your armor on?” I whisper.
“Not enough.” She pushes back from the table but doesn’t take my hand.
“Sit, Ms. Beck,” Mom belches. “Quincy, darling make yourself scarce. Give Annabeth a call; she’s eager to see you.”
I pull out Cassidy’s chair, allowing her to fall back into it, then scoot into the seat next to her. “I’m good right here.”
Mom huffs, giving me the same evil eyes she gave whenever I snuck out of the house and stayed out way beyond curfew. “I believe, Ms. Beck, we discussed at length that I’m to approve any such propositions before it’s given as an option. Maybe I wasn’t clear. This is
my
event,
my
wedding, with
my
name at stake.” Mom thrusts the sketchbook at the chef. “You don’t know the half of what I’ve gone through in planning this wedding.”
Cassidy blinks rapidly. Her cheeks marble under the fluorescent lights making them appear slapped. She pretty much was. “I know how important your daughter’s wedding is and understand how grand the social engagements must be. Honest, I would never do anything to
screw
them up, I just think Ellie’s searching for fresh ideas; that’s why she won’t commit to a cake or flowers or dresses. I’m almost positive she would have said no to everything today if I hadn’t shown her something completely different.”
“A few days with my daughter and you’re an expert? I’ve been dealing with her social engagements my entire life; if anyone’s the expert, it’s me.”
“I’m not saying your choices suck—”
“Excuse me?” Her eyes grow wider than the bonbons in the display.
“I’m just saying, you must’ve seen my potential or you wouldn’t have approved my internship. I can do this job.” Cassidy counters Mom’s angry stare with a steel hard glare of her own.
“Cocky, aren’t you?”
“Persistent.”
“Ballsy.”
I hold back the snort I want so badly to release and rise to my feet. “Why did you hire her, Mom?”
“Stay out of this, Quincy.”
“I would, but I know you. You don’t hire sort-of-maybe-type individuals. You only hire the best of the best. If you agreed to take her on as an intern, then you saw her potential.” I rise and thrum my fingers on the back of the chair.
“You have promise, Ms. Beck, but your talent needs to be honed in the right direction. Right now, your ideas are too vast. You need to nail down your focus.”
“Like tunnel vision?” Cassidy seems hopeful.
“
I’ve said enough and I need to head to another meeting. I gave you six weeks, Ms. Beck, but I can shorten it to one.” Mom rises and Cassidy follows suit.
“Are you saying I’m not doing a good job?” Cassidy asks.
“Your artistic abilities are phenomenal, but your people skills are lacking. You’d fare better keeping your comments to yourself.”
Cassidy’s mouth opens, words teeter on her bobbing lip. “Did you get to where you are today by keeping your comments to yourself?”
Priceless. She cornered Mom the way Mom cornered her. Watching them is like watching two queens diplomatically war over a single realm while staying at the top of their game.
“Let’s come to an understanding. Blow my mind or you’re fired.”
“Noted.” Cassidy gathers up her papers and jots down a few notes before slipping everything into her bag.
“That went well,” I say after the door shuts behind Mom.
“If that went well, then what does something going bad look like?”
“You don’t want to know.” I chuckle and lead her out, making sure to get at least one hand on her. I pat her lower back and then take both her shoulders and give them a good squeeze.
She sighs into it instead of tensing but won’t look me in the eyes.
“Cassidy,” I whisper.
Her chin tilts up and she gives me a crooked smile. There’s a brief moment where I’m ninety-nine percent positive she’d let me kiss her. Right there in front of everyone walking by.
She breaks the moment, turning away from me to fan her armpits. “Great. Stress stains.”
I chuckle. “A little hot?”
She
peers over her shoulder, gaze raking down me like she’s stripped me down to my socks. “A lot.”
After a full day of meetings with Ellie, I’m not back at the plantation more than five minutes before she texts and requests my presence in her room. A rest to clear my brain would be nice, but I doubt that would be a legitimate excuse. I debate leaving behind the wedding binder, but in the end bring it along. Just in case she’s changing the cake, the flowers, the location, or the date. Who knows with her.
“Oh, good. You haven’t changed outfits. Kat and I are meeting friends at the yacht club and you’re coming with us. Wait here while I throw on something fresh.” Ellie points at her bed and disappears into her ginormous closet.
Going to the yacht club where the Covingtons are members isn’t a great idea. In fact, it’s the worst idea. “I have a lot to do,” I say loud enough for her to hear.
“Mom won’t be there. Just you, me, and Kat.”
I don’t necessarily like going behind Mrs. Covington’s back and knowingly breaking her rules, but I could use a break from wedding stuff. Plus, she didn’t mention Quinn. A full day with him touching my elbow, leaning close to my ear, casting glances he must know by now
make
me weak. He has my girly parts revved up, especially after the other night. I can’t believe roasting marshmallows over flames turned into heating me up instead. That did me in.