His First and Last (Ardent Springs #1) (14 page)

Her eyes told him the words were sincere. No matter how ugly their ending had been, he and this woman had once made something beautiful.

“Thank you,” he said, brushing a knuckle along her cheek. “I really do hope this time turns out better.”

A tear rolled down her cheek as she nodded and backed away. Spencer pulled out of the gas station with dry eyes and a heavy heart. The past couldn’t be changed. Unfortunately, it couldn’t be forgotten either.

By the time four thirty came around, Lorelei was ready to crawl out of her skin. Not for lack of duties, as she’d spent the day organizing Mike’s filing system, which could best be described as willy-nilly. From what she could tell, the system made perfect sense to its creator, but she doubted anyone else would comprehend his methods. Materials were filed together by vendor instead of job, which made billing nearly impossible to keep straight. Though he seemed to have created some sort of batching coordinates, they made as much sense to Lorelei as filing the concrete vendor under “Heavy Equipment.”

Meaning no sense at all.

But while her brain tried to focus on back-ordered rebar and lumber inventory, all Lorelei could think about was how her treats were selling at Snow’s. Which was why she practically ran into the store at five minutes to five. Unfortunately, Snow was waiting on a customer at the counter, requiring Lorelei to act casual until the transaction ended and the patron took her leave. Casual wasn’t easy when she spotted three empty plates on a table near the entrance. Behind them was a sign that read Sold Out—New Stock Coming Wednesday.

Did the sign apply to her stuff? Crumb-covered plates had to mean yes. Unless selling dirty plates was a new trend she’d not caught in the latest
Martha Stewart
magazine. Not that Lorelei read
Martha Stewart
.

As Snow handed the customer her bag full of goodies, another patron walked through the front door. Jebediah didn’t see Lorelei standing near the jewelry as he stormed toward the counter like a man on a mission.

“I understand you’ve branched out to selling food goods, Ms. Cameron. Is this true?” Jebediah asked upon reaching the counter.

He didn’t even offer so much as a howdy-do in greeting. What a blowhard.

“You’ve heard correctly, Mayor Winkle,” Snow answered, unruffled by the man’s arrogance and lack of charm. “I’d let you taste a sample, but the goodies were gone before two o’clock.”

Lorelei did a mental happy dance at the news.

“Where did these
goodies
, as you call them, come from?”

“I have a local supplier. Why?”

“I need to make sure these items are safe for our citizens,” the mayor replied.

Lorelei almost outed herself by yelling, “Bull!” What did he think? That Snow was selling brownies laced with PCP?

Snow flashed a friendly smile. “I can assure you that these baked goods are totally safe, except maybe to the waistline.”

The mayor tapped a finger on the glass countertop. “Ms. Cameron, forgive me, but I’m not sure your word is enough to settle the matter.”

The friendly smile vanished. “Did someone file a complaint with your office? Or has the clinic been overrun with locals complaining that a cookie they bought in my store made them sick?”

The man answered through gritted teeth. “No complaint has been filed, nor have I heard of anyone getting sick. At least not as of right now.”

“Then maybe you should tell Harvey Brubaker that my selling cookies and breads three days a week isn’t going to cut into his local grocery monopoly.” Snow delivered the suggestion with a head tilt and one raised brow. “If there’s nothing else, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. It is closing time.”

Lorelei could practically see the steam shooting out of Jebediah’s hairy ears. Served the man right for butting his nose in where it didn’t belong.

“If those cookies are made in someone’s home, that needs to be made clear so patrons are aware that the supplier isn’t licensed or inspected.”

“Duly noted,” Snow said, stepping out from behind the counter. “I’ll add a sign saying so to the display. Now I do need to lock the door behind you.” She swept an arm toward the exit as if to say, “After you.”

Jebediah Winkle’s twitching jaw indicated loud and clear that the man wasn’t used to being dismissed, let alone virtually thrown out of an establishment. Especially not in the town over which he ruled. As Lorelei ducked behind the same armoire that had shielded her from his daughter the week before, the older man stomped through the exit, sending the jingling bells overhead into a cacophony of noise.

Flipping the lock into place, Snow turned in Lorelei’s direction saying, “I really don’t like him.”

“Then we definitely have something in common.” Lorelei stepped into the light. “Thanks for not outing me.”

“Even if you wanted people to know, I wouldn’t have told him where the stuff came from.” The store owner pushed up the sleeves of her sweater.
“Jebediah Winkle has been trying to bully me since the day I opened this place. He even referred to me as a foreigner at a council meeting.”

“I was born in the city limits and he’s never liked me either,” Lorelei said. “If that makes you feel any better.”

“What did you do that was so awful?” Snow asked.

“I was born on the wrong side of the blanket.”

“And that was somehow your fault?”

“Apparently,” Lorelei said with a shrug. “But enough about ancient history. So the treats sold out?”

“They sure did. As soon as anyone tried a sample, they were hooked.” Snow paused with the shade pulled halfway down the door as she glanced from side to side at the spaces in front of the building. “Where’s your car?”

“Parked over on Margin. Everyone in town knows the two-toned monstrosity as mine, so I left it near the post office.”

“That’s two blocks away,” Snow said. “It’s over ninety degrees out there.”

“Which is why I’ll need my second shower of the day before dinner.” But Lorelei didn’t want to talk about the weather or the unattractive odor floating from her armpits. “They really liked the cookies? How about the breads? Not too dry?”

Snow chuckled. “Geez, woman. Did you bake them or give birth to them?”

How could Lorelei explain how important a few batches of cookies were without sounding like a complete loser? And how did she tell this near stranger that she’d never accomplished anything substantial in her life, let alone made something with her own two hands that had any value? At least not to anyone but herself.

She couldn’t. Which meant turning down the dork-o-meter.

“I’m looking for feedback to see if the next shipment needs any changes.”

“The only thing that needs to change is the quantity,” Snow said, hopping back around the counter and pressing a button that opened the cash drawer. “Here’s your seventy percent of the sales, and I’ll need double the amount of product on Wednesday.”

Lorelei stared at the money in her hand, which wasn’t much, but it would go a long way toward replenishing the ingredients she’d used from Granny’s pantry. “Did you say double?”

“I did,” Snow said, sliding the drawer closed. “Oh, and I gave you a name. Hope you don’t mind.”

“A name?” Lorelei was too busy calculating how she was going to bake twelve dozen cookies to follow the topic change.

“The first customer wanted to know where the cookies came from, and I panicked and said Lulu’s Home Bakery. It was the first thing that came to mind.”

The mention of the nickname Lorelei’s mom had given her when she was a little girl set off a herd of stampeding butterflies in her stomach. Snow couldn’t possibly have known the connection. She wasn’t even sure Granny would remember.

“You hate it,” Snow said, concern etching lines around her hazel eyes. “You can change it to something else. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them they heard me wrong or something.” She shoved a slender hand into her curls. “Maybe you can pick something that sounds close to Lulu?”

“No,” Lorelei said. The perfection of the name calmed the butterflies and put a genuine smile on her face. “Lulu is great. Really.”

Snow didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure.” In fact, she hadn’t felt this sure about anything in a long time. “You can add the name to the sign that lets customers know the treats are baked in a scary non-licensed and non-inspected kitchen.”

That elicited a laugh from her distributor. “Consider it done. I have a little experience with graphic design. How about I work on some logos and you can pick one Wednesday morning?”

Her first profits, a business name, and now a possible logo all her own? Lorelei felt something akin to pride swelling in her chest. An experience with which she was wholly unfamiliar. “That would be amazing, thanks.”

“Consider it done.” Snow checked her watch. “Shoot. I have someplace to be by six. You mind if I set the trays outside the back door so you can bring your car around to get them?”

Lorelei had forgotten about the trays. “Oh, sure. Don’t let me hold you up.” She’d been considering asking Snow to join her for dinner, but she should have remembered that other people had lives. “I’ll see you Wednesday morning then.”

Snow followed her to the door, presumably to lock it behind her. “And I’ll have a shiny new logo ready to go.”

Lorelei stepped onto the sidewalk, but turned before the door closed. “Thanks again for giving me this chance, Snow. I really do appreciate it.”

“No thanks needed. You came up with a product I can sell. That’s good business.” As Lorelei turned to leave, Snow said, “Hey, do you want to grab dinner sometime?”

The sun gleamed off the bells hanging over the door as they swayed in the breeze. The effect threw a golden glow around Snow’s curls, and the chimes carried an angelic tune. Lorelei smiled at the image. “I’d like that a lot,” she said, nodding her agreement.

“Good,” Snow said. “We’ll talk about it on Wednesday.”

The wild-haired woman closed the door and gave a wave through the glass before pulling the shade back into place. Lorelei all but floated up Fourth Avenue toward her car. She hadn’t expected to make a new friend in the hometown she despised, but oddly enough, that’s exactly what she seemed to have found. The name of her business played through her mind. Lulu’s Home Bakery. Lorelei couldn’t have picked a better name if she’d tried.

Chapter 12

Lorelei stood next to the garage debating whether or not to go up the stairs. She knew Spencer was up there. Granny said she’d invited him for dinner but had been turned down, which was odd enough to make her grandmother worry. Lorelei wasn’t worried at all, or so she told herself. Spencer was a big boy, and the fact that he’d taken a night off from trying to get under her skin was a welcome change.

Except she was dying to tell him that the desserts were a success and show him her first tiny bit of profit. Lorelei even planned to give him a cut. Spencer had helped in the kitchen, getting the treats secured on the trays, and then aided in loading them in the car. It was silly, but the man deserved to be paid for his time and effort. Ten dollars wasn’t much, but it was a third of her earnings from the day.

Still, going up those stairs would be entering dangerous territory. It was one thing to resist Spencer on her own turf. The little apartment over the garage was just that—little. One large room as far as Lorelei
remembered. A large room that would include her ex-boyfriend, his belongings, and his bed. Right there. Probably looking all tossed and inviting.

Or maybe that’s how Spencer would look. Tossed and inviting.

“This is stupid,” she murmured, stomping off in the direction of the house. She made it five feet before the voice in her head whispered,
Coward
. That stopped her in her tracks. Lorelei was not a coward. There was no reason she couldn’t walk into that apartment, share her good news, hand over the cash, and walk right back out.

“You’re not walking into a den of iniquity, Lorelei,” she berated herself as she climbed the wooden stairs. “It’s only Spencer. You can handle Spencer.”

But as soon as he opened the door, she knew she’d made a mistake. A big, fat, holy-lickable-abs mistake. His hair was wet and spiky, his feet were bare, and his jeans rode low and unbuttoned.

Lorelei nearly swallowed her tongue at the same time her libido put on a party hat.

“Hi,” Spencer said, looking less than happy to see her. “Is something wrong?”

Brain function was slow to return. She managed a quick shake of her head, but nothing audible.

Champ barked, drawing Lorelei’s attention away from the incredible body standing before her, which seemed to kick things above the neck back into gear.

“I didn’t mean to bother you, but I wanted to share my good news.”
And a shower,
the tramp in her brain whispered. Her body tightened as a result of the visual that brought to mind.

“Um . . .” Spencer glanced around the space behind him. A small table held a large pizza box and an empty paper plate. Farther in was a coffee table holding a longneck beer and an open laptop while a news program glowed from the television. “Come on in,” he said, pulling the door open wider before moving the pizza box and plate to the counter,
then doing a spin in the tiny kitchenette space. “I was just working on some homework. Do you want a beer?”