In a Book Club Far Away(64)

“Carolina Just, who has a date with someone I don’t know about. Interesting.” He walked to the window and watched her stride around the corner. Then he looked at the ceiling. “If I hear any thumps or moans up there, we may have to do an intervention.”

She followed his gaze. “Wait. You live up there?”

“Yeah. We own the entire building. It’s very convenient, for when I have to babysit. And spy on my sister—though obviously I haven’t been on my game.” He shook his head, as if to focus. “Anyway, yes, the music and lights. We had another fundraiser. We find that the more romantic a setting is, the easier it is for folks to empty their wallets.” He pulled out a chair. “Sit, and I’ll be back with samples.”

“Actually, I think I already know what I want—chocolate. It’s both Genevieve and Adelaide’s favorite.” She fiddled with the napkin at her table setting, her nerves catching up to her. “I suppose I could have just called with the order.”

“And say no to free samples?” Henry reappeared with a plate of tiny slices of cake. “Listen. You might think you want chocolate, but why not try another flavor? It might even become a new favorite.” He slipped the plate under her nose.

Her eyes grew wide with anticipation at what she knew were the three specialty flavors of Just Cakes: chocolate, red velvet, and carrot. That carrot cake recipe was how she’d begun Instagram-stalking the bakery. Regina had been looking for a recipe for her mother’s birthday and went down the rabbit hole through Pinterest, then landed on Just Cakes’ Instagram page, on a video of Henry icing a cake with precision and competence.

She probably watched the video a dozen times.

Henry appeared with a glass of champagne. “And of course, no cake tasting would be complete without a little bubbly.”

He took the seat in front of her and linked his fingers together. She avoided his intense gaze, hoping he wouldn’t see right through her, to the extra effort she’d made with her hair, the red lipstick she braved. She focused on cutting into the carrot cake with her fork.

The fork glided in; the cake didn’t crumble, a sure sign of its perfection.

“All right, then. Don’t keep me hanging. Taste it already!”

A burst of flavor greeted her with her first bite. The cake was spiced, the cream cheese frosting just mildly sweet. It melted in her mouth. “Wow.”

“Is it good?”

“Mm-hmm. It’s really good.”

He let out a breath. “That makes me feel better.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You’re a chef. Whenever I bake, I always hope that I don’t sacrifice taste for decor. Your praise means a lot.” His voice was low, almost seductive, and her upper chest warmed.

“Tell me more,” she said, to cool the moment. She was here to taste cake, not to ogle him. “About the shop. What are you raising money for?”

He seemed to recalibrate, and the expression on his face changed. He reached behind him, to the shop countertop, and snagged a brochure, setting it in front of her. “We’re starting a nonprofit, in conjunction other Old Town businesses. There’s still quite a bit left to do when it comes to equity within education. Most schools in our district require the use of tablets and computers, and many loan them out to kids, but oftentimes they’re not in great condition. We’re trying to get tablets to each child in our local schools.”

“What a great idea.”

“We hope it will be. Carolina and I didn’t have much growing up. Anyway, we’re just at the beginning, so we haven’t yet announced it on our socials. Though it’s made for some late nights while we fundraise.”

This was the first Henry had brought up his childhood; Regina realized then that the expression on his face? It was pride. The same kind of pride she held for The Perfect Day Catering. “Wow.”

His smile dimmed. “Then why the frown?”

Was she frowning? “I… It’s nothing.”

“Eh, I don’t think it’s nothing.” He reached across the table. “What’s up?”

She shook her head. “This was your moment. I don’t want to make it about me—”

“It’s our moment. After all, this is a conversation. I want to hear what you’re thinking.”

She waited for a sarcastic remark, reminiscent of her “conversations” with Logan way back then, when they either fought or she’d backed off to avoid silence. But none of that came. “I’ve told you about my three-year limit to my business.”

He nodded. “A self-imposed limit.”

“Yes. It lines up with the renewal of my commercial-kitchen lease contract. I’m about six months away from it.”

His eyebrows rose. “And how do you feel coming up to the date?”

“To be honest, not good. Do I love the work? Absolutely. Do I see myself doing this forever? Yes. But our books tell me the opposite. And deep inside, I think the business is not a perfect fit for the location.”

“It sounds like you know what to do.” His gaze dropped. “Though I get it’s not an easy decision.”

“No, it’s not. And not just for my employees. What scares me more, to be honest, is what comes next. Do I go back to a desk job? Do I try to start something new or revamp my current business somehow to fit what my community needs?”