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“How do you stand it?”
“Stand what?”
“Working in these conditions? I’d eat it all and never sell a single thing.”
She shrugged. “I like money.”
“Fair.”
Music blared from inside the garage-turned-kitchen, and I caught sight of Scarlett working with a piping bag, her brow furrowed in concentration as she decorated a three-tiered cake.
“This is where you bake everything? And you sell out of that little truck?” I asked, disbelief coloring my words.
“For now, yeah. We’re leasing a space downtown, but our entire kitchen needs to be gutted and redone.”
“Sounds expensive.”
She took a tight breath, that tension returning to her shoulders and around her eyes. “It is.” Then she leaned in through the doorway and called, “Scar! I’m taking a coffee break.”
Her sister looked up from what she was doing long enough to give me a double take and then offered a thumbs up before going back to work.
“Come on. Coffee’s in the house.”
We went inside through a door around back and came right into the cozy kitchen. Immediate warmth hit me. “Thank fuck. Heat.”
“You’re a wuss.”
“You’re clearly a yeti. You’re not even wearing a coat.”
She shrugged, then headed for the coffeepot on the counter, blessedly full, and grabbed two mugs. “Cream? Sugar?”
“Just a bit of cream.”
After getting us our coffees, she motioned to the kitchen table, and we sat facing each other.
“So what in the world brings the bad boy of Seattle hockey to my doorstep at seven in the morning?”
“I need you to marry me.”
She choked on her coffee, spitting it all over the table. “I’m sorry, say that again?”
“You heard me. I need you to marry me. Today.”
“Why would I do that? I don’t even like you.”
That stung, but I’d earned it. “Oh, come on, Tink. You like me at least a little. You’ve let me put my tongue—”
“Stop right there. That was a mistake I made. I might like your tongue, but the man attached to it leaves a lot to be desired.”
“What if I offered to pay for your new kitchen in exchange for your hand in marriage?”
“What is this, the Middle Ages? No.”
“Just in name. We don’t have to... you know.”
“No, Taylor, I don’t know. What in God’s name could be so bad that you’d need a wife to get out of it?”
This was it. The moment of truth. I took a deep breath and raked a hand through my hair as I pulled together the words I wanted to say.
