Taste of Romance (3 page)

Kim couldn’t bear to see her sister’s perseverance and hard-fought dream to run a
cupcake shop crushed.

“Why stop there?” she added. “Why don’t we ship worldwide?”

“You’re right!” Andi exclaimed. “Creative Cupcakes, worldwide distributor!”

Guy Armstrong, the white-ponytailed tattoo artist from next door, walked in and grinned.
“You can distribute some cupcakes my way. I’m here to pick up my order.”

“I put it right—” Rachel frowned. “I thought I put it on the end of the counter. Let
me go check the kitchen.”

As Rachel disappeared through the kitchen’s double doors, Guy’s face lit up, and he
rubbed his hands together. “What are we brainstorming this time? How to defeat desperate
cupcake-hating housewives? Or how to bring Creative Cupcakes to national TV?”

“We need to buy the building,” Andi told him. “Then we’ll have the golden cupcake
cutter, our trophy from the cupcake war,
and
the keys to success.”

“Did I hear the word ‘success’?” Jake asked, smiling as he came through the door with
an armful of yellow roses.

“Oh, Jake, I’m so glad you’re here,” Andi said, a catch in her voice.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, drawing close to her side. “I stopped to pick up these
from Sjölander’s Garden Nursery.”

“Sjölander’s?” Kim glanced from the yellow roses Jake held to the red roses she’d
put in the vase by her easel.

If she’d met the blond-haired, blue-eyed Swede in his garden shop instead of stumbling
into his backyard, he might have thought better of her, maybe even asked her out on
a date.

Not that she
needed
a date. She was perfectly happy without one. One hundred percent happy.

Andi took the flowers in her arms. “They’re beautiful. But, Jake, did you hear? We
didn’t get the new lease.”

Jake’s eyes widened, and a crease formed on his brow. “We didn’t?”

Andi informed him of the landlord’s predicament and laid out their options. “Do you
have any ideas?”

“I did have one idea when I arrived,” Jake said and got down on one knee.

“I couldn’t find your order, Guy,” Rachel announced, coming back into the front room.
“But I boxed up a fresh—
Oh my gosh!
Jake, are you—
Oh!
I’m so sorry to interrupt—go ahead!”

Jake grinned up at Andi’s startled face. “Andrea Leanne Burke, no matter what happens
in this whole wide world, I promise to love you. I don’t have all the answers, but
I do have a question. Will you marry me?”

Kim gasped. Or maybe it was Andi. Or maybe even Guy. For a moment it seemed as if
something had sucked the air out of the entire room.

Then Jake held up a coconut macaroon cupcake with a glistening diamond ring sticking
up out of the center.

“Yes!” Andi broke into a huge smile. “Oh, Jake, I love you so much.”

“And you already have tickets to Hawaii for your honeymoon,” Rachel reminded them.

“I’d get married in Hawaii, but Kim’s afraid to fly,” Andi confessed. “And I can’t
get married without my sister there. Oh, Jake, I can’t wait to tell the girls. Now
Mia and Taylor will be sisters, too. And if we marry and move in together, we’ll save
money on rent.”

“That’s not why I proposed,” Jake teased, standing up.

“I know,” Andi said, “but it will still help us save money to buy the shop.”

Kim froze, her stomach turning as fast as her thoughts. If Jake and his daughter,
Taylor, moved into the small house with Andi and Mia, there would be no room for her.
She couldn’t move back in with her father. His new house in Warrenton didn’t have
enough space for her either. She’d need to use the money she won from the recent art
show to rent her own apartment, not open a gallery with her friends.

And if Creative Cupcakes closed, how would she continue to pay rent? Instead of choosing
between jobs, she wouldn’t have any job at all.

Handsome, brown-haired, brown-eyed Jake, dressed like a modern-day prince in his tan
three-piece suit, kissed her sister and swooped her up into his arms. “What if I told
you I’ve wanted to propose since the night you first came up to me in the Captain’s
Port and tried to buy my cupcake?”

Andi brushed a long strand of her dark blond hair behind her ear. “What if I told
you I’ve dreamed of marrying you since the moment you shared it with me?”

Andi and Jake kissed again, and Rachel jumped up and down, squealing with delight.
Her grandfather chuckled and hugged his memory box. Guy and the customers at the surrounding
tables whistled and clapped.

Kim clapped, too, and gave a start when she realized tears were running down her face.
Happy tears. Of course they were happy. What other kind of tears would they be?

Her big sis deserved to be happy. Andi had been through a tough time trying to support
her six-year-old daughter without any help from her deadbeat ex. And Jake, whose wife
had died and left him with a kindergartner of his own, was perfect for her. Absolutely
perfect.

Kim brushed another tear off her cheek, and Guy nudged her with his elbow. “Looks
like we’re the Last of the Mohicans.”

“The last what?” she asked.

“The last of the ‘single’ tribe.”

“I guess so,” Kim agreed, not sure she liked the forlorn way he said it.

She watched Jake slide the ring on Andi’s finger, and her chest tightened.
How she wished it were her!
How she wished she could find a great, handsome prince and live happily ever after
like Rachel and Andi.

Maybe she’d watched too many Disney movies with her niece. But that’s what made the
movies so special. Happily-ever-afters didn’t come to everyone. They were as rare
as a full sun in an Oregon winter.

Thank goodness no one knew what was really going on inside her at this moment, because
it wasn’t pretty. And it wasn’t right for her to feel jealous or left out.

It was her own fault she was single. She’d had the chance to make her relationship
with Gavin work. She could have said yes when he asked her to fly off to Europe with
him at the end of their last college semester. But she couldn’t. Her fear of flying
had made it impossible for her to say anything but no.

“Kim, can you believe it?” Andi asked, holding out her hand. The hand with the ring,
of course.

Kim forced her legs to walk forward, forced her arms to wrap themselves around Andi
and give her a hug. Then, smiling past the hurt, she said the words she knew her sister
longed to hear.

“I am so happy for you.”

Chapter Three

There is only one happiness in life: to love and be loved.

—George Sand

M
ONDAY MORNING
K
IM,
Andi, and Rachel gathered around one of Creative Cupcakes’ round dining tables. Mia
and Taylor joined them. Both six-year-olds were in the same afternoon kindergarten
class and spent their mornings at the shop determined to lend a hand. Or two.

Kim slid into a chair and took a new three-ring binder out of her paisley print hobo
bag. “Time for a new Cupcake Diary.”

“Why are there keys?” Mia asked, pointing to the cover.

“Because,” Kim said, scooping her niece up into her lap, “we need Mr. Warden to let
us keep the keys to this building.”

“The keys can represent ‘the keys to success,’” Rachel added. “I like it.”

“My turn,” Taylor insisted, as if playing a game. “Why do the keys have wings?”

Andi shrugged. “Because the keys will fly away if we don’t make enough money?”

Kim nodded. “With our dreams.”

Taking out a pen, she opened and wrote in the new diary:

Goal #1: Buy the building.

“What’s that?” Mia asked, pulling a booklet out from under the diary.

Kim looked above Mia’s head to meet her mother’s gaze. “The listings for apartment
rentals.”

“You don’t have to find one right away,” Andi said in a rush. “Jake and Taylor won’t
be moving in until the wedding. You know I’d never kick you out.”

“That’s good,” Kim assured her. “Because I don’t think I can rent an apartment until
I’m positive I’m going to have a job at the end of the month.”

“I know what you mean,” Rachel said, bobbing her red curls. “How can I plan my wedding
until I know if we can keep Creative Cupcakes? I won’t know how much money I’ll have
available.”

The door opened, and a delivery man in a brown uniform brought in a large bouquet
of red roses.

Andi smiled as she got up and met him halfway. “I bet they’re from Jake!”

“You think Jake’s the only guy who sends flowers?” Rachel teased, scooting her chair
back and hurrying to her side. “They could be from Mike for
me
. Especially since they’re red, and Jake knows you like yellow.”

“They’re from Sjölander’s,” Andi insisted, “the same place Jake got the other ones.”

“Don’t you think other people buy roses from Sjölander’s?” Rachel asked, reaching
for the tag.

Kim glanced at the two little girls left at the table with her. “What do
you
think?”

Mia laughed. “I think they’re for me.”

“Or me,” Taylor agreed.

“They’re for Kim.”

The note of surprise in her sister’s voice made Kim look up, and the expression on
Andi’s face held a host of unspoken questions.

Rachel smiled and read, “‘Dear Kim, why stop at one hundred? Sincerely, Nathaniel.’”

Kim shot out of her chair and took a look at the tag.

“Who’s Nathaniel?” Andi asked.

“And what does he mean, ‘why stop at one hundred’?” Rachel added.

Kim took the roses in her arms and drew in a whiff of their deep scent. “I met Nathaniel
Sjölander at . . . the new park, or what I thought was the new park.”

“And?” Andi prompted.

She cringed. “It turned out to be his backyard.”

“And?” Rachel encouraged, motioning with her hand for her to continue.

“And nothing. I made a complete fool of myself. I told him I planned to smell one
hundred roses, and he gave me that bouquet over there by my easel, probably hoping
I would leave. He knows we’re booked to cater cupcakes at his brother’s wedding in
a few weeks, and now he’s just poking fun.”

“Kim’s been painting roses ever since she brought back that bouquet on Friday,” Andi
teased. “And she’s been creating roses from frosting and rolled fondant for the tops
of all our cupcakes, too. Just look at the display case.”

Kim glanced toward the counter. It was true.

Rachel looped an arm through hers. “I’m sorry I wasn’t much help the other day. Mike
and I shouldn’t have been playing around in the kitchen. Let me see if I can help
you discover Nathaniel’s motives for sending the bouquet. How many roses did he give
you?”

Kim shrugged. “Looks like two dozen.”

“I read in a magazine the number of roses in a bouquet symbolizes different sentiments,”
Rachel said and nodded to the flowers. “Count them.”

Kim pulled her arm free of Rachel’s grasp and counted with her finger. “Twenty-four.”

“Okay, you were right.” Rachel cocked her head. “But did you know that twenty-four
roses means ‘thinking of you twenty-four hours a day’?”

Kim laughed. “I doubt he meant to attach any hidden meaning.”

“He must know the significance of the number of roses,” Rachel insisted. “He’s a rosarian.”

“A what?”

“A professional rose gardener,” Rachel amended.

“How many roses were in the bouquet he gave you the other day?” Andi asked.

Mia and Taylor raced over to the bouquet beside Kim’s easel in the back corner of
the shop and began to rattle off numbers.

“One-sun, two-blue, three-bee . . .”

“Ninety, ten, eleven-teen, twelve . . .”

Kim walked toward the vase. “Thirteen.”

Rachel clapped her hands together. “Thirteen red roses means ‘secret admirer.’”

“I think your magazine made that up, just like the romantic horoscopes they make up
for people,” Kim said, touching one of the velvety soft rose petals with her finger.

“Then why did Nathaniel send thirteen and not twelve?” Andi asked, coming to Rachel’s
defense. “A dozen is traditional.”

Kim frowned. “They were fresh cut. Maybe he overestimated.”

Rachel waved her finger at her. “You just don’t want to admit he might be interested
in you.”

Kim shook her head and said, “I think these flowers are to thank me for giving him
a good laugh, nothing more.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Andi scolded. “There’s someone out there for you.”

Her sister’s words were meant to comfort, but instead they emphasized the fact she
didn’t
have anyone.

“You should at least call and thank him,” Rachel said, handing her the phone.

Kim froze. Rachel was right. She’d have to thank him. But then, what would she say
to him? Argh. She was so bad at this. Making conversation with a stranger was bad
enough, but worse when it was someone she was attracted to.

Oh, no! Was she really attracted to him, or did she just find him attractive? Her
hands trembled as she took the phone and punched in the number of the nursery on the
card.

Yes, he was attractive. And, yes, she was attracted to him, not only because of his
height, blue eyes, and warm friendly accent, but because he was as much an artist
with his flowers as she was with her paints. She also liked the way he humored her.

The phone rang once . . . twice . . . three times . . . and then the message came
on. Hearing his voice cross over the line as he instructed his callers to leave their
name and number sent a nervous tremor of excitement up her spine.

There was a beep, and she hesitated. “Uh . . . this is Kim, Kim Burke from Creative
Cupcakes. I . . . uh . . . thank you for the roses. Now I guess I’m at one hundred
and thirteen, plus twenty-four, that’s one hundred and thirty-seven. An odd number—”

Another beep sounded, as if warning her to stop counting and hang up the phone. Why
did she jabber on like that? She could kick herself! Instead she squeezed her eyes
shut and shook her head, her hope for a date with Nathaniel fading fast.