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“Thank you. I guess we need to work on balloons.” She nodded at the wayward party favors. “They caught on the trellis above the walkway, and when I tried to get them free, one popped on the thorns. Then all hell broke loose with the dog, and I was holding the cake and my purse.” She shrugged, careful not to jostle the cake box.
I made a mental note to tackle cutting back the overgrown bougainvillea arch next weekend.
“Understand. Are you okay?” I kneeled and pushed her skirt up to see a set of angry red marks from the dog’s claws on her thigh. Thankfully, there wasn’t any blood.
“It’s nothing but a scratch.” She looked down at me, holding the cake box aside to see my face.
I traced down the outside of her leg with my fingertips. Goosebumps flared to life in the wake of my touch. “I like the green. It suits you.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was a rough whisper.
I stroked a particularly soft spot above her knee, then leaned forward and placed a kiss near the scratches on her leg. She gasped sharply. Her unique scent of clean laundry and flowers brought my desire flaming to life. I didn’t fight it. I let it burn and waited for it to die down. No more overreacting. I was flotsam, carried along by her current. And I would enjoy the trip.
I smoothed down her skirt, avoiding the injury, and stood.
“I think to keep Onyx from peeing on my floor in fright, we’ll leave these out here.” I gathered up the strings of the remaining balloons and secured them to the porch railing.
“Yes, big bad German shepherd got his ass kicked by some latex and helium. Poor baby.” She chuckled.
“After you and my cake.” I pushed open the front door with a wide smile. I enjoyed inviting Lee into my house.
Onyx sat waiting where I left him, panting like he’d run a mile. Killing balloons was hard work. I took the bakery box so Lee could pet the still nervous dog.
“Come, you nut.” She tapped her thigh, and he rushed to her, poking his nose into her hand and looking sheepish. She spoke some dog mom gibberish to him and scratched his ears until he relaxed.
They followed me to the open living space, and I set the cake box on the dining room table. After her entrance, my half-lit candles didn’t seem so bad.
“Wow. This is, um, impressive.” She touched the folded napkin in the center of one of the gold-rimmed plates.
“It is my birthday. I only turn forty-seven once. Ugh, can I start aging backwards yet?”
“Nope. Sucks, right? I had the big four-oh almost a year ago, and it still stings a little.” She bumped my shoulder with hers and gave me a commiserating smile.
“That’s right, your birthday isn’t long after mine. I almost forgot.”
She shrugged. It was thatdon’t remind me I’m getting oldershrug we all seemed to develop somewhere in our thirties.
“I see we interrupted.” She reached for one of the lit candles and used it to light the rest of the candelabra.
I was a functional idiot. I might have thought my new outlook on Lee had restored my brain to full capability, but a few minutes ago I’d been fighting with a dying lighter when the solution was right in front of me.
“Should I?” I pointed to the cake box.
“Oh yes. And happy birthday.”
“Thank you.” I removed a cake plate and server from the sideboard.
Lee stopped my progress; she took the cake server from my hand to examine it. “Hold up. What’s with all the Martha Stewart paraphernalia?”
“It’s not mine. Well, I mean, it is now. There was this woman…” I exhaled.
She laughed at my tongue-tied attempt at a clarification. “Please explain. Because seeing all this stuff baffled me last time I was here.” She waved a hand at the candelabra, the shelf of self-help books, and the cake stand.
“I lived with a woman for three and a half years. She was a personal chef, so her collection of kitchen equipment was extensive. She took a job as a head chef on one of the big cruise ships. That ended our relationship, but I got to keep all the kitchen things she couldn’t take on the boat.” As I spoke, I pulled a beautiful cake big enough to feed eight or ten people from the box and put it on the pedestal stand. Fancy chocolate writing proclaimedHappy Birthday Derek. I could smell the strawberries that decorated the top of the white frosting, and it made my mouth water. I loved strawberry anything. It touched a soft, hidden place in my heart that Lee remembered.
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around you using this stuff and cooking. I come home with takeout most nights. Plastic utensils and eat in front of the TV.”
I turned the cake so the pretty decorated side faced us. I shot her a horrified expression and sucked in a dramatic breath while I pantomimed clutching my imaginary pearls in horror. “Life is too short.”
