Cupcakes upon cupcakes upon cupcakes.
There must’ve been dozens of them lined up beside each other, stacked over four trays high. All fitting the pink-and-white theme, but with different toppings like cherries and Oreos and sprinkles.
I wiped a bit of drool from the corner of my mouth.
Teresa whistled in approval. “Damn, that’s a lot of cupcakes.”
Heaven. This was absolute, honest-to-God heaven.
“Come get me when the party is over,” I heard myself say as my legs took a purposeful step closer to the mouthwatering morsels before me. “I’ll be here.”
“Nope! No way. Don’t eventhinkabout it.” She wrapped her fingers around my arm and tugged in the opposite direction of my babies. “No way am I getting in trouble for recruiting the girl who ate her way through half of the desserts. I’ll knock you out first.”
“Is there a problem here, girls?” The new voice cut through my anticipatory haze, and the cupcake spell was broken as we both spun around to see Mr. Everton wiping his burly hands with a wrinkled dish towel. The middle-aged man towered over both of us, his green eyes sharp. A monstrous brown beard outshone his equally thick mane of hair. He could easily be mistaken for a lumberjack with his blue flannel shirt and broad shoulders.
Narrowed eyes noted Teresa’s hand on my arm, and Mr. Everton’s beard twitched.
“No, we were just getting started on bringing the desserts out,” Teresa explained. Her hand dropped from my shirt like she’d been burned.
“Don’t worry about that. Seamus and Trent will take care of them.” He shook his head before jerking his chin toward the hallway. “But we could use some help with the napkins and utensils.”
“We’re on it.” Teresa nodded before hustling out of the room. I lingered, unable to stop myself from sparing one more wistful look over my shoulder at the lonesome cupcakes. My taste buds ached.
The older man followed my gaze and grunted. “You’re Emma, right?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, trying to focus on my new boss instead of the sweet smell of sugar calling out to me like a siren from the table.
He gave me a considering look. “You like cupcakes?”
I snorted. “Does a fish like water?”
Thin lips twitched into the semblance of a smile, and my toe scuffed against the hardwood floor as he glanced back at Cupcake Mountain.
“I think it’s just about time for your fifteen-minute break,” he said before crossing his arms over the flannel shirt. “Why don’t you run down to the van and find the extra Tupperware of cupcakes for the staff in the back? Help yourself to one.”
It took effort not to let my jaw drop. “Wait, really?”
“Really.”
“Thanks, Mr. Everton!” I beamed and made a beeline to the door before he changed his mind.
“Only one!” his sharp voice called after me.
Warm evening air kissed my cheeks as I heaved the massive door open. Mr. Everton’s van was sitting inconspicuously next to the neighbor’s fence. I forced my walk to stay casual so the neighbors wouldn’t think I was some small-time burglar looking for easy catering prey.
The van’s back doors were trickier to open than one would expect, with more handles and levers than any door should need. But I managed to pry one open far enough to peek inside—feeling like a badass spy—and…there.
Two Tupperware containers sat innocently beside a case of iced tea, neither of which could hide their sweet aroma from tickling up my nose. Without further ado, I grabbed the nearest one and licked up a dollop of sweet pink buttercream icing before stumbling away from the van. My head rocked back from the individual sugary bursts overwhelming my unprepared taste buds, and both eyes drooped closed. Pure heaven. The icing was a treat in itself, but I wanted the full effect. With a deep breath to prepare, I opened my jaw to unforeseen lengths and went in for the kill.
“Whoa! Slow down there, cupcake!” The urgent voice startled the stuffing out of me, and I spun around midbite.
Maybe the icing was laced with fast-acting LSD, because I’m pretty sure I was hallucinating a guy that’d walked straight out of a magic show.
A red cape billowed out behind him, and an honest-to-God top hat sat atop short chestnut-brown hair. The only things missing were a magic wand and white rabbit.
“Huh?” I said inarticulately around the cupcake. I had an excuse, though, because the guy was so handsome my brain stalled. He had cheekbones that could cut glass. Skin kissed by the sun. Wide eyeliner-framed eyes, and a chin that could run for president. He was straight out of my dreams.
The new arrival jogged across the driveway with a growing grin—blinding pearly whites, of course—as I experimentally blinked my eyes.
