Page 24 of Crumbling Truth
“You and me, both,” she replied. “I really wanted to dislike you, you know.”
“Just to spite my mother?”
“No. Well, maybe a little. I’ve done a damned good job of sticking to myself for the last four years and you snuck right past my defenses.” She scowled at me, but there was still a hearty dose of humor sparkling in her eyes.
I flashed a wide grin at her, the kind my father always used to charm my mother whenever he messed up. “Well, I’m sorry my mother roped you into things, and I feel obligated to inform you that I’m almost positive she’s hoping to convince me to stay in town.”
“So I’m the lure?”
No turning back now. I lifted a hand to tick off each point on one of my fingers. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, clearly as scary-smart as my mother, tough as hell, more than a little bit mysterious. They couldn’t have orchestrated a better trap for me if they’d tried.”
Esther smiled at me, this time a bit sadly. “I appreciate your honesty, but having been trapped myself, I won’t be anyone else’s bait.”
“Esther, I didn’t mean…”
I trailed off, wishing I could rewind that moment into the compliment I’d intended it to be. The invitation for dessert had felt like more progress than holding her hand as we walked into the restaurant; I still wasn’t sure if that concession had been borne of the need for reassurance or the desire to make our little act appear convincing.
Being welcomed into her inner sanctum seemed a more conscious choice, and now I was afraid I’d ruined everything.
“It’s fine,” she said quietly, rubbing her forehead with one knuckle before turning to fetch a plate of baked goods from the kitchen counter. When she sat down across from me, she tucked one leg under her and gestured toward the desserts between us. “Bad news for you. I’ll need you to try at least one of each.”
I rubbed my hands together, rolled up my sleeves, and stretched my arms like I was preparing for a sporting event. Her eyes looked almost topaz against the royal blue of her sweatshirt and they followed the line of my forearms just long enough to convince me she wasn’t as indifferent as she might seem.
“You’re the boss. Which of these beauties should I sample first? What kind of cupcakes are they?” I asked.
Esther waved her hand magnanimously. “Guest’s choice. These are Mississippi Mud. It’s a mocha cupcake with cookie chunks mixed in and coffee frosting with a fudge swirl.”
“Oh, Esther,” I said gravely, placing a brownie and a cupcake on my plate before peeling the paper wrapping from the latter. “Where have you been all my life?”
Though I expected her to laugh, she only leaned forward a little, her gaze intent on my face as I took a bite from the cupcake. Even if I hadn’t been playing it up for her sake, I couldn’t have held back the moan of absolute bliss. It was amazing—soft and moist, the frosting fluffy and light, the flavors perfectly complementary. I was no expert on food allergies, buteven the small sample I’d had of Esther’s other confections hadn’t prepared me for this.
“Well?” she demanded, scowling at my silence.
“I’ve never tasted anything this delicious in my entire life.”
She huffed like she didn’t believe me, so on the next bite, I closed my eyes and tipped my head back to savor it. By the time I finished the cupcake, I was ready to propose marriage again. I opened my eyes to find her watching me.
“You, Queen of Sweets, are an artist,” I said, letting appreciation color my tone.
Pleasure crept across her features, tugging at the lushness of her mouth and brightening her eyes. It was like watching a flower bloom. For the second time that day, I wanted so badly to reach out and touch her that it became a physical ache, but I managed to refrain this time.
As my mother had always drilled into us: interest didn’t equal invitation.
Clearing my throat, I picked up the brownie. “Right, moving on. These are the ones you were still testing?”
“Yes,” she replied, taking one off the plate in the middle of the table.
I watched, captivated, as she tore off a corner, popped it between her lips, and chewed thoughtfully. When she made an impatient gesture in my direction, I did the same. A long sigh of pleasure escaped me as soon as I swallowed it.
“These are amazing. They’re going to be a hit.”
“You think so?” she asked, breaking off another chunk. “They’re a little crumbly, but that was the payoff for reducing the oil.”
I scoffed and ate the remainder of my own brownie in two big bites. “Who cares? Besides, since the tree lighting and the Carolcade are both at night, no one is going to notice a few crumbs.”
“True. You’re an excellent sidekick, Long John.”
“We’re a good team.” I paused, studying her tranquil expression. “I think it went well tonight.”
