The Reunion(92)

“It’s a very popular flavor at the bakery.”

“I can see why.” He glances at his watch. “Well, I should be going. I have some fishing to attend to. Thank you again, Nora, for making the trek out here.”

“Of course.” We both stand from the table. “Anything for the Chance family.”

We say some quick goodbyes, and I head toward the harbor, where I’ll wait for the ferry to take me back.

Three siblings, three different cakes.

I’m pretty sure I know what I’m going to do now.

Isn’t it obvious?

Butterscotch for Coop.

Lavender for Palmer.

And, of course, chocolate raspberry for Ford.

But naturally, I’ll let them keep fighting over the flavor until the very last day because the ever-changing cake is quite entertaining.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE





COOPER


“You look good,” I say, taking Nora’s hand and pulling her into my embrace. “Who knew you owned a dress?”

She pokes my side, making me laugh. “You act as if I’m not a lady.”

“Oh, I know you’re a lady—remember the logo I drew of you?”

“Yes, everyone knows about the logo and the stacked bosom you gave me.”

A date with Nora. An actual date.

Hate to admit it, but I fretted over what to wear tonight, what to say, and how many squirts of cologne I should spray. Three, if you were wondering.

To sum it up, slightly nervous, really fucking excited.

“Mr. Chance, your table is ready,” the hostess says. I take Nora’s hand in mine, and we follow her through the quaint restaurant to our intimately placed table, where we take our seats under a very large picture of a half-naked lady with a large rack.

When the hostess leaves, I open my menu and nod toward the picture. “The resemblance is uncanny.”

Nora rolls her eyes. “My boobs are not that big.”

I glance at her cleavage. “Once again, I beg to differ.”

“It’s the bra.”

“Babe, a bra isn’t that magical.”

Her brow rises in question. “Are we at the ‘babe’ phase?”

“Why did I know you were going to call me out on that? Always a ballbuster.”

“Someone has to keep you grounded.” She opens her menu and glances over the options. “Oh, sausage. I love me some sausage, and since I won’t be getting any tonight, maybe I’ll indulge at dinner.”

“Are you making it your mission to slowly drive me insane?”

“Yes, how am I doing?”

I smile. “Magnificently.”

“Good.” Her phone lights up on the table, and naturally, my eyes float to it—Ford’s name crosses the screen.

My back straightens and my guard goes up as I set down my menu.

“Why is my brother texting you?”

“Huh?” she asks and then looks at her phone. “Oh, uh, he was, uh . . .”

“Don’t lie to me, Nora.”

Sighing, she lays her menu flat on the table and folds her arms over her chest. “If you must know, we’re having a raging affair up at the inn. He calls me ‘darling,’ I call him ‘daddy,’ and we spend the afternoon pleasuring one another.”

I lean forward. “He changed the goddamn cake, didn’t he?”

“I find it odd that you’re more upset about a cake flavor than my possible affair with your brother. Didn’t you hear me? I call him ‘daddy.’”

“You and Ford having an affair is one of the most absurd things I’ve ever heard.”

“Why is that absurd?” she asks. “I might be a little loose on the mouth filter, but I can be dignified with him.”

“It’s not you; it’s him. It’s obvious he has something going on with Larkin, plus my mom told me she and Dad caught Ford and Larkin together, naked, in the living room.” Something I never thought I would say out loud, especially since Ford is so stiff, so . . . professional all the time.

“Really?” Nora asks, eyes wide open. “Oooh, tell me more about that.”

“Not until you tell me about the cake.”

She rolls her eyes and reaches out to touch my hand. “I’m not sure you’re ready to hear this kind of information. You seem fragile.”

“Nora,” I grit out.

“Fine, but I warned you.” She takes a deep breath. “Your brother called and asked me to bring some sample cake slices to the island.”

“You let him test your cake?” I nearly shout, attracting a few stares. Quieting down, I repeat, “You let him test your cake? I haven’t even tested your cake.”

“Technically, you have.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“I’m being serious, Nora. Please tell me you didn’t let him test the butterscotch. Please.”

She winces. “He wanted to know what it tasted like.”

I slap the table. “God damn it.” I point a finger at her. “You know how important that cake is to me. Let me guess: he didn’t like it.”

“It was not the one he chose.” The corner of her lips pulls up, and I know she’s getting too much joy out of this.