Casper
Sammy, got time to help me with something at Wild Harbor?
Sure, he had time to help Casper Christiansen at the outfitters he ran in town.
Except for one snag.
Wild Harbor Trading Post practically shared a parking lot with the bakery. And he was definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent not thinking about Robin. Or casually riding past her place to see if she was in. Or imagining her in the kitchen kneading bread dough, a smudge of flour on her cheek.
This didn’t count though, right? Helping Casper was about as innocent as it got. So what if he cycled past Robin’s place of business? Emphasis onbusiness.
Sammy
Be there in 20. Need me to bring any tools?
Helping Casper usually meant light construction work. If he had to stop at home, that would add to the travel time.
Casper
Think I’ve got everything. See you in 20.
Sammy locked up the youth center and headed out on his bike. The fat tires were sluggish on the sloppy snow accumulating everywhere. He pedaled harder, enjoying the burn of his muscles against the sucking pressure of the snow. Fat flakes still fell. Each one swatting his face proved they were more water than snow crystal.
As he came down the hill into town, he spotted Owen Christiansen in a snowplow clearing the streets. The truck spread sand from its load in the back, a spinner connected to the rear bumper distributing it out evenly on the road. Owen responded to his quick wave with an equally short beep of the big truck’s horn.
A few minutes later, Sammy pulled into the Wild Harbor lot. And yeah, despite his best efforts, he’d clocked Robin’s van in the bakery lot, the lights of the bakery shining out the plate glass window, and a certain auburn-haired bakery chef ushering two customers inside. He pushed aside the questions in his mind about who Robin was meeting with and why she was open on a Sunday.
He hoped Casper’s project took a lot of concentration.
Because that might be the only thing that kept his feet from carrying him straight over to breaking his promise to be “just friends” with Robin.
nine
Robin opened the front door of the bakery and let Emily and Jacob in, setting the bell on the door jingling. Behind them, a cold wind blew in a mini hurricane of snowflakes from the Deep Haven streets.
“It’s good to see you again, Jacob and Emily.” She shook their hands and led them to a table for their cake-tasting meeting. She’d come here straight from church, made a pot of coffee, set the table with a knife, forks, plates, and coffee mugs, and chosen two samples: a caramel mocha cupcake and a raspberry-filled vanilla cupcake, both flavors suitable for their non-traditional wedding.
“Thank you again for agreeing to do this for us.” Emily tugged off her jacket and hung it over the back of her chair. Her eyes sparkled brightly. “We’re doing everything in such a rush. I just bought my dress at a thrift store yesterday.” She plucked her phone from her carpetbag-style purse and opened her camera app. “Want to see a photo?”
“Of course!” Robin reached for the phone. The photo showed Emily standing in front of a mirror in a satin A-line dress with fitted sleeves. A Chantilly lace overlay was threaded through with pops of green and blue thread. Robin felt her mouth drop open and eyes go wide. “You found this at a thrift store? It’s gorgeous.”
Emily beamed at her. “Pretty awesome isn’t it?”
“Awesome doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Robin handed the phone back. “Are you going with those greens and blues for your wedding colors?”
Emily slid her phone back into her bag. “Yes. I know it would be more traditional to do reds or pinks for Valentine’s Day, but I’ve never been known to do the normal thing. I’m having a wedding on a Tuesday, after all.” Her laughter bathed Robin in joy.
“I suppose you aren’t going to want a traditional cake then, either?” Hopefully they weren’t looking for anything too complicated. She still had the normal bakery to run with a shoestring staff, after all.
“Jacob actually had an idea, didn’t you, Jacob?” Emily turned to her fiancé, who up to that point had been so unobtrusive that Robin had almost forgotten he was sitting there.
Jacob pointed to the plate in the middle of the table. “Can we get those?”
“You want to try them? That’s what they’re here for.” Robin picked up the knife and sliced the cupcakes into quarters. “I like to cut them up, but you can eat as much as you want.”
“No. Well, yes.” Jacob grabbed a piece of caramel mocha cupcake as his face reddened. “I mean, we want cupcakes at our wedding.”
“Oh! That is a fun idea.” Her mind started buzzing with the possibilities. Having their colors include green would work out great. Better than great, actually. With the emerald theme for the Adamses’ anniversary cake, she could save a little on getting extra ingredients. “Tell me more about what you’re thinking.”
