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The day of Atticus and Annie’s wedding, air scented with wildflowers and spring grass drifted in through the open window of the Bunkhouse kitchen. Across the room, Elliot frosted the wedding cake, humming along to a song on the radio.
With deft fingers, I wrapped a piece of bacon around a scallop. Upon hearing they were Annie's favorite appetizer, I'd had them flown in from Seattle. The bacon had been sourced from a neighboring ranch. In these parts, we might not have ocean delicacies, but we knew how to raise a pig.
Wrapping a strip of bacon around a scallop was one thing. Doing so for my brother’s wedding supper was another. There could be no room for errors of any kind. I wanted the bride and groom to have the perfect meal on the day of their nuptials.
Elliot stood back from her cake, clearly assessing her next step. I averted my eyes from her gorgeous face for the hundredth time that day. She was way too pretty. Too funny and sweet. Her laugh, low and throaty, intoxicated me. The sparkle in that pair of big brown eyes weakened my resolve to remain chaste. Her hair, long and thick, made me ache to feel it between my fingers.
This secret crush I’d developed had only intensified as the months unfolded. Our beautiful spring weather didn’t help at all. The ranch had sprung to life. Baby animals everywhere. Flowers and trees blooming. One of Soren’s mares had given birth last week to a precious foal. Just this morning I’d seen a duck family with five fluffy ducklings, and tears had come to my eyes. Actual tears!
My heart yearned for her. Not that I would ever act upon my feelings. It wasn’t right to even entertain such an idea. She was my employee. I didn’t have a lot of rules in my life, but romance with a staff member was definitely not something I would ever do.
To hide my growing attraction toward her, I’d decided to say no more words to her than absolutely necessary. Fortunately, she mostly stayed on her side of the kitchen concocting the most incredible desserts I’d ever had the pleasure of tasting. They were beautiful, like edible pieces of art. Almost too pretty to eat.
She must think I was either a total bore or painfully shy. Maybe even rude and cold? Or perhaps she didn’t think about me at all? That was probably the most likely scenario.
“Caspian, may I get your opinion on something?” Elliot held a spatula coated with white buttercream frosting in one hand and swiped the other over the front of her green apron. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and covered with a net. A bit of frosting smeared her left cheek.
“Hang on. Let me put these away. I don’t want the wedding guests poisoned from bad scallops.” I put the last one on the baking sheet, stuck it in the walk-in refrigerator, and headed her way.
The cake featured three elegantly stacked round tiers, gracefully descending in size with the most substantial layer forming the base and the daintiest tier crowning the top. Each tier had been frosted with a delicate, pale buttercream frosting.
“Do you think Annie will like it?” Elliot tugged her apron back into place. A habit I found endearing. “I’m starting to worry about these peonies. Are they the right shade of pink? Are they too pale? That was the only thing Annie said she wanted for sure—fresh peonies—and what if I’ve chosen the wrong ones?”
“I don’t recall her saying anything about the color, do you?” I asked, trying to remember the details in the meeting we’d had about the cake. Annie and Atticus had spent the whole time giggling and making eyes at each other, instead of paying attention to the samples Elliot had prepared. We’d had to force them to decide between white or chocolate cake, as if the whole thing was a joke. I’d felt bad for Elliot, as she’d stayed up half the night to make the sample cakes.
Knowing she needed more than platitudes, given how important this was to her, I looked at the flowers more carefully. They were the palest of pink, as if someone had airbrushed a blush onto the petals.
“They look good to me,” I said, truthfully.
“I’m going to cascade them down the sides.” She demonstrated by setting a flower near the edge of the bottom layer. “I want the cake to complement, maybe even suggest, her dress. It has to be just right.”
“It does resemble a dress. The frosting looks like moving fabric.” I’d not realized it until now. “Well done.”
“Really? That’s exactly what I was going for.” She smiled, her lovely features having an unfortunate effect of rousing the butterflies I tried so hard to keep asleep. “But I started thinking she might not like the color. She wouldneverhave pink on her dress. Redheads do not do pink.”
“What color’s her dress?” Weren’t all wedding dresses white or cream?
“White. Not a hint of pink anywhere,” Elliot said. “So you see my point.”
Not really. However, I understood striving for excellence. “Stop worrying. Annie’s going to love it.”
Her adorable nose crinkled as if she smelled something sour. “I hope so.”
“Don’t worry so much.”
She put one hand on her hip and tilted her head, staring at me. “You seem different. What did you do yesterday? Anything fun?”
I’d taken the day off so my brothers and I could take Atticus fishing. The last afternoon he would be a single man had felt like a rite of passage.
“My brothers and I spent the afternoon fly-fishing. We had a blast.”
“Fishing?” She made a face. “Okay, if that’s what you enjoy, who am I to judge?”
“Have you evertriedfishing?” I asked.
“I’m from the city. What do you think?”
“I’m going to go with no,” I said.
