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As I was about to log out when a new comment popped up from Seb’s account.
Seb: Please call me.
I wasn’t going to.
He could take a long walk off a short cliff.
But Ididneed to read the letter.It nagged away at my consciousness.
I should have read it already, probably could have made myself.I was just busy, I reasoned, and of course Rick was the most delicious distraction that had ever walked the earth.
But did it mean anything that I didn’t miss Seb, that he only crossed my mind because of some unopened correspondence?
I put that away to think about later.
While Jenny worked away, I spent twenty minutes searching the cake supply cupboards at Jess’ house.Thankfully, I found all the icing nozzles, shaping tools and decorative bits and bobs I would need to make this cake a showstopper.That was a hell of a relief.
I sketched the cake out on some spare craft paper with the dimensions needed and found the relevant cake tins, and then my phone alarm went off.
It was time to shower and get ready to go to my first Stateside baseball game.
ChapterSixteen
Rick drove us a little way out of town to the big field where once a month, all the little league games were held.He introduced me to his cousin Ralph, a mountain of a man with a fierce-looking face but a soft, kind voice.I told him how excited I was to be making his wedding cake, and I apologized for the change.He enfolded my hand between his two giant ones and said that he was sure I’d do a fantastic job.I hoped that his future wife would be as calm about it.
Aunt Laurie had said the bride had panicked a bit, but who wouldn’t with a last-minute change like this?I could relate.
The kids were running about while the adults prepped for the game.Our section of the field had a small row of bleachers.Some adults sat on them, eating sandwiches or enjoying cans of light beer.Others stood around the portable barbecue, offering advice on grilling the hot dogs.It was a scene I was well familiar with, just not in conjunction with baseball.
A small table was full of sauces, as well as two kinds of relish, grated cheese, and a steaming pot of sliced, recently fried onions, the edges of the slivers caramelized a golden brown.
It smelled divine.My stomach sat up and begged, despite yesterday’s huge deposit of hot brown and milkshake.
Rick led me to the bleachers and patted a spot beside him.When I sat, he tugged a baseball cap from his pocket and offered it.“I got this for you.”
It hadRedwing Falls Little Leagueembroidered on it, with a bird wearing a cap.Warmth filled me at his thoughtfulness as I smoothed my thumb over the bird’s little face, perfectly captured in thread.“Thank you!”
He took it and slipped it on my head.“Perfect.Now you fit right in.You just need a hotdog.”
“They smell amazing.”
“My uncle Jay is an ace at barbecue.Today it’s just hot dogs, but they’ve had cookouts where wild game has been on the menu,” he praised, just as the man in question shouted, “Grub’s up, come and get it!”
Rick stood.“What do you want on your hot dog?”
“You don’t have to serve me.I’ll do it.”
He snagged my hand, and led me to the barbecue.I loved feeling our fingers wrap around each other.There was already a queue of kids with paper plates ready, discussing what they were going to put on their dogs.
“Mustard is the best.”
“Ew!Mayo only.”
“Everything else aside from the onions is crap, dude.”
I had to agree with the third kid.I only wanted onions.I told Rick as much as he raised a brow, mocking me.
“Do you wanna do this properly, or not?”
