Sweet Surprise (11 page)

Chapter 7

A
fter a fun afternoon of hitting up thrift shops and secondhand stores with Sabrina, they’d finally stopped for a late lunch at Bud’s Diner for a couple of delicious but far from lo-cal burgers. Sabrina had custom-ordered hers with pepper jack cheese, habanero, and spicy chipotle sauce. Bud had proclaimed it a brilliant combination and said he’d be adding it to the menu as the
Spicy Senorita
Burger. Sabrina had blushed from the compliment. Or it could have been from all the hot peppers she’d consumed.

Fiona tucked Izzy into bed with a bedtime story and a kiss, then she went into the kitchen to finish working on the cupcake-box labels she’d started the other day. No sooner had she turned on her laptop than her “Firework” ringtone jingled through the room. She snatched up the phone off the table, saw Abby’s name, and tapped
ANSWER
.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Annie’s in labor.” Abby’s breathless excitement bubbled out in a giggle.

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s scared. Feeling all alone. But she’s about seven centimeters dilated, so it shouldn’t be too much longer. Do you think you and Izzy could come down to the hospital? We’d like as many of the family together as possible to support her.”

Fiona could empathize with Annie Morgan—an about-to-be single mom. It was a scary concept to be completely responsible for a little human being. Fiona felt more than grateful that she had Jackson to count on. Annie had no such wonderful man in her life. She’d thought she’d found her Prince Charming, but he’d turned out to be a real toad and abandoned her when she became pregnant. Annie had made the smart decision to come back home to Sweet instead of trying to make it all alone in Seattle. Here, at least, she had her big sister nearby and the entire Wilder family, who embraced her as their own.

Still, having a baby without the father in the picture had to be hard on the heart.

“I just put Izzy to bed,” Fiona told Abby. “But if we miss the birth of her new cousin, she’ll never forgive me. So we’ll be right there.”

After a quick “see you soon,” Fiona grabbed Izzy’s favorite butterfly blanket, put her sleeping daughter in the car seat, and strapped her in. A few minutes later, Jackson met them at the hospital entrance. Izzy, now wide-awake, was very excited to meet her new cousin. Chattering like a cartoon mouse, she hopped into Jackson’s arms, and he carried her through the nearly empty lobby.

“Glad you could make it,” Jackson said, laughing at Izzy’s wiggling enthusiasm.

“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world. How’s Annie?”

“Pretty good if you catch her between contractions. During the contractions, she’s likely to claw your arm off.”

As they entered the elevator, Fiona laughed. “Brings back memories.”

“That was a great night.”

“It was the best. Especially if you subtract the nineteen hours of labor that came first.”

“I think you called me every name in the book.”

“And then some.” She laughed again. “But I was really glad to have you there. Annie’s brave to be doing this on her own.”

“I know. But at least she has all of us.”

“And who knows, maybe there will be a Prince Charming out there for her somewhere.”

“You girls.” Jackson shook his head. “Always looking for the knight in shining armor.”

“Naw.” Fiona thought of Sabrina’s comment. “All we’re really looking for is a good guy with a little bit in common and a few manageable flaws.”

The elevator doors whooshed open on the maternity-ward floor and as they stepped out, Fiona could feel the exhilaration vibrate through the waiting room. Approximately two hours and thirteen minutes later, Annie delivered a very loud and very healthy Maxwell Jacob Morgan into the arms of those who loved him. And that included everyone in the room.

When Fiona’s turn finally came around to hold the eight-pound, two-ounce bundle of joy, she looked down into his sweet little face, with his pink cupid lips, and gently stroked his full head of blond baby fuzz.

A major dose of baby fever swept her away, and the truth came down like a wall of stone.

All these years, she’d just been on a day-to-day journey of survival. But as she soaked in the abundance of love in the room, she finally had her aha moment.

She wanted it all.

A man to love who would love her in return. A wonderful, forever marriage to someone who would also be her best friend. Brothers and sisters for Izzy. The cute little house with the white picket fence. And a successful business.

All this time, she’d never thought of herself as someone who wanted the whole crazy-in-love, big-family, American-apple-pie dream.

But all these years, she’d been wrong.

T
he sound of large pink gumballs clattering into a large apothecary jar didn’t help the no-sleep hangover poking Fiona in the head. Of course, welcoming a new baby into the world was worth the lack of Z’s. If she could have only explained that to Izzy this morning when she’d had to wake her up to go to day care. Three hours of sleep for an adult was bad enough. Three hours of sleep for a four-year-old created a total Cranky McCrankerson.

Izzy’s grunted responses when asked if she preferred eggs or cereal for breakfast and her complete meltdown of whether to wear the pink or the purple tutu over her jeans made Fiona laugh. If only life were really that simple.

Now, standing in the center of the shop, she grabbed her coffee mug and took a large slurp. Once the caffeine hit the spot, she opened the bag of green apple gumballs and dumped them into another large apothecary jar. She’d seen the clever idea somewhere on Pinterest. Though she didn’t sell gumballs, it was a sweet and happy design theme that added to the fun atmosphere she wanted to generate in her shop.

There were only a few days left before she actually opened the doors for business. The nerves—and doubt—had started to collide. Her dream was finally coming together. But the results were still to be realized.

What if she failed? What if she missed some important piece along the way and took a nosedive right into bankruptcy? Worst of all, what if her cupcakes sucked and nobody wanted them and she disappointed her Gma G?

Maybe her grandmother wasn’t actually around to see things fail or succeed, but Fiona felt her there in her heart as strong as if she were standing in the same room. And though the woman had the heart of a saint, and Fiona knew she wouldn’t judge, the pressure was still on. More than anything, she wanted to know that her grandmother was aware she’d finally pulled her life together and was headed down the right set of tracks.

Fiona hummed along to Kip Moore’s latest tune on the radio as she tore open the bag of white pearlescent gumballs and poured them into the largest apothecary jar. She wadded up the cellophane bag and pushed back a stray strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail. Then she stood back and looked at the displays on the cabinets Mike had built. The cabinets were gorgeous and huge, yet with the apothecary accents, they looked too crowded.

Snagging her bottom lip between her teeth, she rearranged the jars and tried to figure out if the idea would work or if she should give up altogether.

In that moment, awareness tickled the back of her neck, and every female cell in her body went on full alert. She turned, and her eyes got all happy when she discovered Mike with his backside leaning against her display case, one jeans-clad ankle cocked over the other, arms folded across a clean white T-shirt.

“I thought you were selling cupcakes, not gumballs,” he said. A dark glare pulled his brows together, as if he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be standing there in her almost-ready-to-open cupcake shop.

So why was he?

She glanced at the glass jars filled with pink, white, and green gumballs, then back at him. “They’re representational.”

“Of?”

“Nonpareils.”

“Which are?”

“Confectionary balls.”

The confusion on his face signaled he needed clarification.

“You know,” she said, “those shiny little decorations you see on cupcakes and cakes?”

“Clearly this isn’t a subject I’m all that familiar with,” he admitted.

“Understandable. On the scale of importance, gumballs probably fall far below rescuing lives or putting out fires.” She tossed the cellophane bag in the trash, then folded her arms. “So what’s up?”

“Up?”

“As in, what are you doing here?” she asked, though in her mind it really didn’t matter. She was just enjoying having a nice long look at him. Because really, the man did something fabulous for a worn pair of Levi’s. “You already finished the cabinets.”

“The place looks great,” he said in way of an answer that had nothing to do with the question.

“Thanks. The shop opens in two days.”

He pushed off the display case and came toward her. Each step he took sent a tingle through her heart and down into her girly parts. “Nervous?”

Nervous? No.

Extremely turned on? Yes.

“I’m afraid I’ve bypassed nervous and gone straight to panic,” she said. “I’m trying to think only positive thoughts. But . . .”

“I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“I appreciate your confidence.” For an awkward moment they stood there looking at each other. Okay, admittedly, she was probably drooling and trying really hard not to let it show. Especially since he was definitely giving her an uncertain vibe.

While his gaze wandered over her body, his brows pulled together and formed an intriguing assembly of crinkles between his eyes. Creases her fingers itched to smooth.

Before she did exactly that, she uncrossed her arms and lifted her hands in submission. “Okay. You’ve got me. I surrender,” she clarified. “You’re paying me all these nice compliments. Saying all these nice things. And I still have no idea why you’re here. It’s not that I’m not happy to see you, but I’m all out of projects for you to do. Although I can’t imagine with your talent you’ve run out of clients. So . . .”

“Jana called me,” he said.

Not for the first time did she realize the depth and sexiness of his voice. She wondered if he’d ever considered doing voice-overs for women’s fantasy DVDs. Voices like his must be worth their weight in gold. There was nothing worse in the world than seeing a really hot guy in some soft-porn movie and, when he opened his mouth, he took all the sexy away.

Not that she frequently watched soft porn. But she’d seen it once or twice. Maybe three, or four, or ten times.

Yep. Soft porn. A single girl’s Saturday-night sure thing.

“I can’t imagine why she would call you,” Fiona said. “You’re off her payroll.”

One masculine shoulder came up in a shrug. “She just wanted me to make sure you had everything you needed.”

Obviously, no. Reference her last thought.

“As far as I can tell.” She glanced around the shop. “Although the displays are a little crowded. I thought there would be plenty of space with extra room to exhibit some local artisans’ work. Like maybe Annie Morgan’s hand-dipped chocolates, or Sabrina’s handmade notecards.”

“Sabrina has a crafty side?”

She laughed. “You look surprised.”

“She doesn’t look like the artsy type.”

“Well, jump on the bandwagon why don’t you?”

“I’m sorry. What bandwagon?”

Fiona sighed. “Sabrina may look like a Victoria’s Secret angel, but she has a lot more going on than legs for days and shiny hair. And the bandwagon I’m referring to is how men perceive her. Which leaves her dateless most nights, with no prospects for the future.”

“Really?” His arms crossed over that magnificent chest, and his frown was joined by a look of astonishment. “I think it’s nice that she’s more complex.”

“She’s great.
And
talented. But unless I can come up with more space, I won’t have anywhere to put her work. And I’d really like to.”

“I might have a solution for you.”

As he unfolded that big, gorgeous, golden, muscular body, the frown disappeared from his face. Unfortunately, the tension in those broad shoulders didn’t seem to relax at all as he headed toward the back door.

When he came back inside, the first words out of his mouth were, “I thought you were going to keep the back door locked when you were here alone.”

A statement, not a question.

“I’ll try to remember from now on.”

The second statement out of his sexy mouth was, “Close your eyes.”

In her imagination, the follow-up to that deep and seductively delivered statement was “
And do as the nice man tells you to.
”

Whoo boy.

She had to get a grip.

Still . . .

Always way too eager to walk barefoot into the fire, she slammed her lids shut.

A few seconds later he surprised her by sliding his big hands over her upper arms. His palms were warm, and her body reacted like he had a direct hotline to all her tingling girl parts. As an added plus, his deliciously masculine scent enveloped her as he effortlessly lifted her off her feet and set her down a little farther to her right.

“Keep them closed.”

Far too soon, the heat of his hands on her arms vanished as he let go.

Heavy bootheels shuffled against the wood-planked floor. Then the air shifted, and he was behind her again. His warm breath swept across the top of her shoulder as he leaned in. Anticipation danced a conga line down her spine, and the revelers were rewarded when his hands covered her own.

Slowly, he peeled away her hands and the sound of his deep, silky smooth voice vibrated against her back. “You can open your eyes now.”

She did. And gasped.

In the center of her lobby sat a beautiful round table with exquisite scrollwork and claw feet. It had even been painted in the same scrumptious pink as her walls.

“H
ow did you know?”

With luscious lips open in surprise and delight dancing through her blue eyes, Mike knew his surprise had pleased her. Still, he had to play it cool. He forced himself to remember this was all about paying off a debt and helping out a really nice lady who obviously cared about Fiona a great deal.