AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Dean cut a small piece of cake making sure the portion he chose included one of the white roses on top. He speared it with the tines of a delicate fork and held it out to her.
“Aw, isn’t this guy something, folks?” Stormy said to the camera. She leaned forward slowly so Steve could zoom in and then placed her red lips around the morsel.
“Mm,” she said dreamily, closing her eyes as she chewed and swallowed. “I’m here to tell all of you at home, Dean Montgomery is a winner in my book!”
“Thank you,” he said proudly.
“Thank you, Dean, for talking with us today and allowing SWET TV to visit your bakery.” She turned to face the camera directly. “I know folks at home will be excited to learn that you’re not the only baker from Sugar Grove who will be competing soon onWedding Baker.”
“What?” He snapped his head up, startled. Could he have heard her correctly?
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Stormy cooed, widening her blue eyes in mock surprise. “Josie Taylor, of Sugar and Spice, was also selected to be one of the contestants. You are acquainted with her, aren’t you? Wasn’t she your co-valedictorian of your graduating high school class?”
He ran his hand through his hair reflexively as an image of Josie’s beautiful and infuriating heart-shaped face flashed in his mind.
“Yes, that’s correct,” he said, feeling his cheeks flame and hoping he didn’t appear as flustered as he really was. “Um, that’s great news,” he continued. “Best of luck to her.”
“What wonderful
sportsmanship!” Stormy replied, grinning widely. “May the best baker win, right? I know everyone here in Sugar Grove will be tuning in to the show eagerly in a few weeks when the competition begins!”
“Um, great,” Dean said through gritted teeth. “May the best baker win.”
The reporter took a step closer to the camera. “I’m Stormy Matthews, bringing you the latest and greatest in local news from SWET TV.”
The light on the cameraman’s recording equipment clicked off.
“And that’s a wrap!” The producer yelled.
***
“She sure was cute,” said David as he squirted Windex on the front of the cupcake display case and wiped it free of children’s sticky fingerprints with a white rag.
“Who?” asked Dean distractedly. He’d just returned from the post office where he’d picked up the shop’s mail. He’d been so busy preparing for the interview all week that he’d neglected to run the errand until now, as evidenced by the large stack of envelopes and advertisements currently in his hands. He turned the sign over the front door to “Closed” and locked it from the inside, then walked over to one of the small tables, dropped the mail on top, and took a seat to sort through it.
“The reporter gal…the blonde…what’s-her-name,” said David, continuing to clean the glass.
“Oh, you mean Stormy Matthews?” Dean looked up from opening a bill. He grinned. “Yeah, she slipped me her phone number after the interview. I have it right here.” He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and drew out the napkin on which Stormy had scribbled the digits along with an imprint of her lips in cherry-red lipstick.
David chuckled, shaking his head. “Boy, women fall all over you like cats in heat. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Or maybe they just like dessert,” he joked with a laugh. He shrugged. “Not that I mind.”
“Think you’ll settle down one of these days?” David asked. “I’m getting older, son, and want to spend time with my grandchildren…once I have some, that is. Youareplanning to get married and start a family someday…hopefully soon…aren’t you? You’re not a spring chicken anymore either, you know. The big 3-0 will be here before you know it.”
“Thanks Dad,” said Dean. He set the bill to the side and reached for a large manila envelope, noticing with interest that the return address was from the Food Network. “I think I’ll pass on marriage for now. Maybe forever, I don’t know.”
“Now don’t talk like that, son,” said David, shaking the rag in his direction. “Just because your mom decided that being a wife and mother wasn’t for her doesn’t mean that you can’t find a good woman out there. Don’t give up on love.”
“Ha,” Dean barked. “You’re one to talk. You’ve got plenty of years left in you, and you’re not so bad looking, either.”
“You’re just saying that because you favor me,” David replied.
Dean smiled. “Nah, I’m saying it because it’s true. What do they call men over 50 these days? Oh yeah, silver foxes. That’s what you are, Dad, a silver fox.”
David glanced at his reflection in the mirror behind the counter and smoothed his steel-gray hair with his palm. “Really? You think I’ve still got it?”
“Absolutely,” Dean said, nodding. “The real question is why you haven’t dated since Mom left.”
