One Funeral (No Weddings #2)(30)

“You know, I’ve sold dozens with them as a daily special. But from the new menu? I’ve already sold one this morning.” She held up her palm to screen a finger and pointed to a couple sharing a cupcake between them in a booth by the wall.

When Cade stood, she gave him another full-body hug. He stumbled back a step, but the stout woman had a solid grip around him.

I pressed my lips together, holding back laughter.

As we walked along the cobblestone path leading back to the parking lot, I nudged into him. “So what do you think of Lila?”

He put his arm around me. “I like her. You’re right. She’s good people. And I also love that she called me your Cade.”

I looked up to see amusement dancing in his eyes. “Yeah, so get over it. In a way, you are my Cade.”

He gently squeezed my shoulder and pulled me closer, leaning down to my ear. “I hope to be your Cade in every way. And very soon.”

A shudder ran through me at the heated undertone in his voice. “Why do I have the feeling ‘every way’ means multiple positions?”

He let out a deep, wicked laugh. “Now you’ve got the idea.”





That afternoon, Daniel and I were cleaning out the display case when someone came through the door. Daniel looked up from his position wedged in the front corner as he wiped crumbs and sprinkles onto a dampened cloth. I had just sprayed glass cleaner onto the shelf above him, and as I wiped it dry with a paper towel, black wingtips came into view on the other side of the glass.

When I pulled my head clear of the display, I recognized the man with blondish-brown hair and golden eyes who stood on the other side; it was none other than Mr. Wall Street Journal, himself. I straightened fully and stepped over Daniel’s legs to the other side of the counter.

“Good afternoon. Can I help you?”

The man glanced into our empty but sparkling display case. “I understand you make cupcakes. And cakes?”

I nodded. “You understand right. We’re cleaning at the moment, but if you’ll wait just a few minutes, I can bring some up front for you.”

He shook his head, upturning the corners of his lips in what seemed to be a practiced smile. “That’s not necessary. I asked Lila about you this morning when I overheard your conversation. I tried one of each on her menu.”

Floored, I blinked. “You ate that enormous cinnamon bun and my cupcakes?”

He laughed, and it was the first time he seemed less cold businessman and more approachable. Kindness now warmed his eyes. “No. I was there to sample the cinnamon bun. When I realized there were also legendary cupcakes being baked in the same vicinity, I was obligated to try them all.”

I arched a brow, crossing my arms. “Legendary, huh?”

“I’d heard about you from the article in Gourmet. When I asked, Lila showed me several news clippings and magazine articles. You’re making quite a splash in a few months’ time.”

I shook my head. “Those articles highlighted a business that I work with, Invitation Only. I’m merely the cake supplier.”

The smile left his face, but a hint of amusement sparkled in his intense gaze. “I have a feeling you’re not merely anything.”

My skin flushed hot. His attention was about more than cupcakes.

Daniel cleared his throat, and I glanced up to find him standing beside me, arms crossed over his chest. Torn between allowing an overprotective employee to intimidate a potential, and possibly harmless, customer and wanting to give the man the benefit of the doubt, I hesitated.

The man saved me the decision by reaching into his pocket and pulling out a business card. He slid it across the top of the display case toward Daniel, acknowledging my security and gatekeeper. “I’m Ryan Cole. I own a handful of popular nightclubs and cigar lounges in Pennsylvania and the surrounding states. Our VIP clients often call us to coordinate all the details of their parties. I’ve got great connections for everything they need, except for cakes.”

I stared at the business card that Daniel made no move to take. He also hadn’t budged, remaining an immovable wall by my side. I glanced back up at Ryan. “And so you came to Glenhaven to try a cinnamon bun?”

Ryan laughed. “No. The cinnamon bun was for me. I actually came down here to meet you. That Lila happened to have several of your most popular cupcakes, and you happened to be there while I ate breakfast, was a fortunate accident.”

Daniel grunted.

Yeah, it all seemed too convenient. And yet, even through the stuffy suit and business demeanor, there was something charming about Ryan that made me not dismiss him outright. Besides, I didn’t like confrontation, and Ryan hadn’t said anything to warrant hostility.

“And what is it you’re looking for, Mr. Cole?” I asked.

“Please, call me Ryan. I’m looking for a dependable cake supplier to deliver extraordinary cakes for our more refined clientele. We can discuss the particulars later, but I wanted to stop by, introduce myself, give you my card.”

“VIP parties at nightclubs,” I repeated to make sure I understood.

“And cigar lounges.”

Daniel finally joined in, shrugging. “You wanted to start a trend in cigar lounges.”

Ryan arched his brows at me. “You’ve already considered it?”

Daniel put his hands on the counter, leaning forward. “Already doing it. Poker at Roy’s tomorrow night. You game?”