The Reunion(6)

“They really like butterscotch and chocolate. Do you have anything like that?” Cooper asks, setting the menu down.

“I could do a butterscotch sponge, soaked in butterscotch, with a butterscotch pudding in the middle and a fudge frosting. Do you think they’d like that?”

The corner of Cooper’s mouth tilts up, ever so slightly. If I didn’t know him better, I would have missed it, but there it is, plain as day—a smirk.

“Yeah, they’d like that,” he says as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. “Do I pay for it now?”

Chuckling, I shake my head. “Not the whole thing. I usually take a deposit and then payment at delivery, but no need for a deposit with the Chances. But I do need to know how many people are invited to the party so I can figure out how many tiers to make.”

“Tiers?” His nose scrunches. “You’re not going to make a sheet cake? I thought maybe you could do a giant rectangle and print a picture of them on the top.”

I hold back my smile. “I’m letting you go with the flavors because that’s what your parents would like, but I’m saving you from your siblings when I say go with a tiered cake—it will prevent an argument in the future.”

He thinks on it. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” He stuffs his wallet back in his pocket and takes a step back. “We’re good here?” Once again, his eyes roam my body. From my face down to my chest, those intense eyes eat me up, and it feels like a year hasn’t passed between us. I almost believe we’re back at the bar, his gaze making silent promises of what’s to come.

I swallow hard. “We’re good.”

“So, when your mom asks you if a cake has been ordered for the party, you’ll tell her yes so my mom gets off my back?”

I clutch my heart. “I can really feel the love, Cooper.”

Rolling his eyes, he turns away and takes off, leaving me to watch his retreating backside. When the door shuts behind him, I audibly exhale as I take a seat at the counter-height stool we keep next to the register.

Cooper Chance.

Can’t remember the last time I saw him.

Oh wait, I can . . . when he was slinking out of my bedroom. But that time, as I watched his retreating back, it was naked.





CHAPTER FOUR





PALMER


“Hey, sis, what’s up?”

I twirl a roll of tape around my wrist as I stare down at the pile of boxes in the middle of my Meatpacking District apartment. The old parquet floors have seen better days, the walls are caked in paint from years of repainting, making the windows almost impossible to open, and there’s a watermark in the right corner of the ceiling where my upstairs neighbor let her bathtub fill too high. And now, the space I called home is practically empty.

“Ford, are you really on your way to Marina Island right now?”

“On the plane as we speak.”

“Wait, what do you mean . . . are you flying private?”

“Larkin signed me up for a private rideshare in the air, or something like that. Either way, how are you? Are you in the country? Or back in Europe, soaking up all the local cuisine like usual?”

I stare down at my bank statement, a flood of anxiety filling up my chest as I absorb the numbers, or lack thereof. With my forefinger and thumb, I curl the edge of the paper. “Oh, you know, just taking a break for a second while the next adventure presents itself.”

“So, you’re in New York, then?”

“Yup. The Big Apple,” I say awkwardly just as someone outside screams a profanity that shakes the very walls of my apartment. “Anyway, you’re really going to be in Marina Island for a month?”

“Yes. I’ll be working on some important things and figured what better place to do it than where the store first originated. Plus, I’ll have a chance to help with the anniversary party if time permits. I have the feeling Cooper is overwhelmed with the planning.”

“Overwhelmed or lazy?” I ask. “I mean . . . an email, Ford? Really?”

He chuckles. “Cooper doesn’t care about the details like we do. I’ll have a talk with him when I see him. Larkin tried scheduling a meetup with him, but he has yet to get back to her, so we’ll see.”

“Maybe try texting him.” I chuckle. “You know, since you’re his brother and Larkin won’t be on Marina Island to be at your beck and call.”

“She’s not at my beck and call,” he says in an annoyed tone. “And she’ll actually be there.”

“You brought your assistant with you back home?” I ask, surprised. “Are you really . . . wait . . . oh my God, are you staying at Mom and Dad’s house?”

“No, despite Mom trying to convince me that it would be normal to have Larkin sleep in my childhood bedroom.”

A sharp laugh pops past my lips. “Oooh, I think that would be a brilliant idea, actually. Makes me want to call Mom so she’ll cry to you on the phone about needing all her babies under one roof.”

“That would require you to actually come home.” His tone is light, but I know there’s some seriousness to his words.

I can’t remember the last time I was home, or with my entire family under the same roof. I’ve visited Ford in Denver here and there while passing through, but Marina Island . . . yeah, not so much. As a food influencer, I’ve spent the last five years traveling around the world, blogging about food, and building my Instagram following to over 250,000 followers while getting paid to try food in the most beautiful of places.