Page 5 of Love Unwrapped
“No. Donottell me,” Andi begged. Grams needed to keep her sex life to herself. Andi cringed at the thought. Besides that, Grams was attempting to deflect the conversation. Blake Mangold was a bad guy. He did bad things. He’d played a part in ruining her family. “He robbed a store with Nat, Grams. That’s who you want to shake things up for me?”
“I suspect there’s more to that story than you know.” Grams sighed. “I love my family, but Nat’s a bad egg. Anyone that fell in with her was going to get dirty.” On that point, Andi totally agreed. She hadn’t always, but the truth had become clearer over the years.
She plopped down on the bench, letting her shoulders slump. At twenty-eight years old, she held her own against an executive board filled with a bunch of know-it-all older men—a typical corporate old cronies club. Why did this morning feel like five days of meetings with those men? Besides all that, technically, right now, she should be happy, feeling like she was giving back to the world, not beat the down by life.
“You keep doing this for me, Andi.”
“We could switch jobs,” she said, predicting her grandmother’snoresponse before she muttered the words.
“I did give you an option. I decided to let fate handle it; that was hard on me. You know how much I like to pair people together.”
“This isnota matchmaking, Grams. There’s no way I would ever lower myself—”
“Hush, dear. That man’s scrumptious and his cakes, oh my. I think I’ve gained ten pounds since he opened for business. He gives a nice senior citizen discount.”
She had so much approval in her tone that Andi dropped her head back and stared up at the awning. The only reason she was still in this town was for this old lady that she wanted to kick right now. Another thought came to mind. “Grams, why is he back? I heard he went career military.”
It took a second, but her grandmother finally said, “You’re a smart young woman. I’ll let you figure all that out. If I tell you the ending, what fun will you have working through the story yourself, hmm? I’ve got to go, dear. Keep me up-to-date on the progress.”
“Two volunteers quit.” Andi said those words just to show her grandmother she wasn’t nearly the perfect matchmaker she thought she was.
“Probably the high schoolers. They can find much easier community service hours to put on college applications. Looks like you have more than you bargained for, and probably more hours work than you two can do. Do I need to stress how important this is to the community, dear?” Her grandmother paused for effect before going in for the kill. “Or how much this means to me? You wouldn’t let me down, now would you, sweetie?”
“Grams, I swear—” Andi started, not even having dared to consider the idea of putting in volunteer overtime.
“That’s wonderful. But you don’t have to swear to help out. I know you’ll do the right thing. Gotta go, dear.” The phone beeped with the disconnected call as a brown bag dropped in her lap.
“Do you think the airline will reimburse for lunch today since technically we’re volunteering in their name?” Before Andi could answer, Bree plopped onto the bench beside her and continued, “Did you see all those tattoos? Blake’s seriously sexy. What’s the deal between you two? Do you think he’s married?” Luckily, Bree didn’t need her to help the conversation. She was on roll. She’d have herself married to Blake before Andi knew it. Oh Lord, that would never do. Then she’d have to hear about Blake every day.
Her life. Andi dug in the bag Bree had brought her, feeling lots of dysfunctional stress eating coming her way.
Chapter 5
Blake stood in the doorway to the prep room where he’d set up the icing station. Bree and Andi had been working diligently all afternoon, chatting and icing the gingerbread cookies, then switching over to the shaped sugar cookies. Sadly—or maybe luckily—Andi hadn’t needed another tutorial on icing. He had tried to make sure they had a variety of cookie shapes for the event: candy canes, trees, reindeer, Santas, round ornaments, bells. He had more dough to bake but the ladies had stopped chattering about a half hour ago, and he didn’t doubt they were worn out. He cleared his throat so as not to startle them, and they glanced his direction—a smile from Bree and a scowl from Andi. The smile did nothing for him and that scowl made him half hard. He seriously needed a psych evaluation.
“You’ve both done an amazing job, but I think you’ve put in more than your agreed-upon hours.” Blake smiled.
The bakery had been closed since four, and he’d bet they were getting hungry for dinner. He’d kept them as long as he felt comfortable, since it was past eight now. He couldn’t keep them all night, even if he did worry he’d never have it all ready in time.
No.Failure wasn’t an option. He’d learned that long ago. He’d scoot them out the door and bake for a few more hours. Maybe he’d crash in his office to save the commute. Before he’d opened the bakery, the little shop had been a furniture upholstery store for about forty years. When the guy who’d owned the hundred-year-old building and run the shop had retired, he’d left behind quite a few pieces, telling Blake, with a huge grin on his face, to use them, sell them, or toss them, because he was headed to a tropical island and couldn’t care less.
Blake had kept a comfy couch and a double-wide recliner on one side of the room with a low-slung coffee table and, for client consultations, he’d set up his desk and two straight-back chairs on the other side near the window. The office had three doors on the back wall—one led to a full bathroom, another to a small bedroom, and the third housed a nice-sized supply closet. It had obviously been used as living quarters during one of its incarnations over the years. He hadn’t given it much thought when he’d moved in, but the ability to crash at the shop had come in handy in the early days when he’d had large catering gigs that he’d handled on his own.
“What time do you plan to be here in the morning?” They could hit the ground running, packaging the iced cookies and getting to work on the freshly baked items. They’d iced at least fifteen hundred today, so they’d have an ample set ready for Saturday and then Saturday they could package for Sunday. Thank God Babs had thought ahead to bring in volunteers to sit at the table this weekend.
Andi set down the piping bag and stretched out her back, arms over her head. Then she brought the back of her hand to her mouth to cover a yawn. “What time does the bakery open?”
“Eight, but someone’s here by five to start prep.” The life of a baker reminded him of boot camp. Up at the crack of dawn and always covered in dirt—well, in this case flour and sugar, which tasted a bit better when it accidently got ingested. Blake held back a grin. So maybe it was nothing like boot camp.
Bree squeaked. “I didn’t agree to five AM. That’s insanity. I’ll be here at nine, thank you very much.” She gave Andi a challenging look.
Andi held up her hands. “You’re volunteering. I’m not going to make you do more than you want.”
“It’s not about want. You know I don’t function on too little sleep, and I have to do my morning yoga or my whole day’s off.”
“Lord knows that’s true.” Andi snorted then faced Blake. The look on her face reflected fondness—the first time she’d sent a friendly look his way all day. Not that the look had anything to do with him. “She’ll be here at nine. She’s a fabulous assistant…unless you make her work past her bedtime or get up too early. Then she’s practically useless.”
Blake’s eyes widened, and he glanced over to Bree, thinking she’d argue the point, feeling insulted. But Bree just smiled and waved her hand.
