Have Your Cake (3 page)

C
yana reached Weynor city limits. The pecan trees had started to litter the roads with clusters of fruit. The leaves on the maples were a deep aged green, a sign they would be changing in a few short weeks. Cyana had found the cold front again. It slowed over the mountains. Its effects on Weynor were light. The mass of frigid air dropped the September weather into a bearable upper-eighty. She didn’t resist the need to drive with the window cracked to smell the sweet Georgia rain. To her satisfaction, the citrus hint of magnolia blossoms wove into her senses.

Cyana drove up to the house her mother and sister shared, but the vehicle was missing out front. She remembered they would be at the fair in the port-a-kitchen and cursed under her breath. The rain and long nap placed her behind schedule. She was certain they’d gone out to the festivities without her.
Which fair?

They could be clear to Savannah for all she knew. She wished for her phone, any phone, to call and tell them she was in town. At least then she could meet them somewhere.

She considered her possibilities. This was Mama’s sanctuary. There were no neighbors on either side of the house. The two-story home sat square in the middle of four acres of land, wooded all around.

Cyana massaged her temples. Iona had mentioned they would be catering at the Milway mansion across town. It would be a fifteen minute ride. Cyana scanned the passenger seat to check the clock on the phone; then huffed at how hard the habit would be to break since the device was now trash. She glanced to her wrist watch for the second option.
Still early.

Putting the Gremlin in drive, she set out for the Milway. If they were going to cater there, then someone should be at the house prepping the grounds. Southern hospitality wasn’t always free. Stopping at any gas station or restaurant to ask to use the phone would result in the shopkeeper pointing to the pay phone outside. At least at the Milway she could explain her situation, borrow a phone, call her sister and then meet both her and Mama at whatever fair they were attending, she rationalized. She nodded her head to no one in particular.

C
yana’s chest swelled with admiration once she drove through the Milway gates. They were open, a positive sign someone was home. The Milway hadn’t been inhabited for any recent length of time, still, the magnolias lining the long cobblestoned driveway fragranced the air and added to the charm of a perfectly lush lawn. The drive rounded a fountain in front of the house. She frowned at the thought of parking her brightly colored 1975 Gremlin at the front steps of the impressively columned cement porch, thinking the house was probably younger than the car. A narrow drive leading to the right side of the building would be the perfect place to hide the car for a short time.

She turned off the engine and listened for a moment.

The lights of the mansion were on, visible through the tall glass windows veiled with thin white lace. The porch formed a half circle, dominating the front of the house with ten steps leading to the landing. A total of eight white rocking chairs sat out front.

The crickets chirped against the steady patter of rain. Cyana had cracked the window to keep the fog from the humidity off the windshield. Now, the scent of gardenia and rose bushes filtered through the car’s interior. The scenery stripped away all her tension. She sighed and opened the door.

Someone inside will let me use the phone.
She was certain of it. Mounting the steps refreshed the muscles of her legs. She walked casually to the front door to ring the bell. She stretched a bit while waiting.

W
hat the hell is that damned tapping?
Asher paused from sweeping the floors in the former stable and stepped outside the newly remodeled space. If he wasn’t mistaken, he could have sworn he’d heard a car. Then the headlights of an orange vehicle came into view beyond the roses before stopping.

Damn.
He’d left the gate open for deliveries, but the vendor already called to cancel. Some poor soul had probably gotten lost, or worse, had come to case the place for a robbery. The police department had sent over a uniform to warn him about the reports of several break-ins in the area. Such activity was highly unusual in Weynor. He wiped his hands clean against a towel and set his jaw in a firm line. Whoever it was would have all their plans ruined once they came face-to-face with him.

He rounded the corner of the house and heard a clicking getting closer.

“Hey,” he called out.

He was answered with a shriek. The young woman stood at the top of the mansion steps with her hand pressed to the center of her chest. Her eyes were wide, breathing fast paced.

“Holy crap, don’t scare me like that,” she said.

Her voice was soothing in a higher alto pitch with a slight Georgia accent. He scanned the fitted, Illinois College hoodie wrapped around a red dress which stopped along toned thighs, one shade lighter than a milk chocolate bar. A pair of simple red pumps covered her feet.

The sight halted his headlong stride and set him back on his heels.
Not a burglar
, he assumed. If she was, then it was the sweetest looking hoodlum he’d ever seen.

“Can I help you?” He changed his tone.

“I’m Cyana.” She spoke coming down the steps with her hand out.

He wrapped his palm around her grasp. “Asher.”

“Nice to meet you, Asher. I’m in a bit of a bind. I’m with a company that has the catering contract for an event being held here next Sunday. Huffing’s Kitchen, have you heard of them?”

He nodded. “Yep. Sure have.”

A broad smile crossed her face. It stole every bit of annoyance. “I’m the cake designer.”

“Cake designer?” he asked.

She shoved both hands in the hoodie’s large front pouch. “Pâtisserie and Baking diploma from the Art Institute of Atlanta. I had to travel a long distance to get here, but my phone got bashed on the way.” She produced a piece of equipment from her pocket. It’d definitely seen better days. “I need to call them and let them know I’m in town. I was hoping I could stop here and use a phone.”

Asher listened patiently to her story. He wasn’t able to decide if he wanted to let her go on due to interest or to keep listening to her voice.

“No one’s home at the Milway, ma’am. I’m the only one here.” He didn’t know why he admitted it. If she did have a weapon tucked away on her tight body, he would have to resort to his black belt training for a quick defense.

Her shoulders slumped. She sighed and peeked to the sky as if searching for some other way to get what she needed.
Definitely not the sign of an attacker.
He reached into his front pocket and tugged out his cell.

“Why don’t you use mine to give them a ring, Love?” The endearment rolled from his tongue like second nature and seemed to fit her well.

The bright smile returned. She took the phone with a “thank you”. She must have gotten a voice mail. The talk was short; filled with information about what happened to her phone, where she was and how she hadn’t settled on a place to wait yet. She handed the cell back to him.

“Thank you, Asher. I’m sorry to bother you, but I appreciate all your help. I’ll be on my way now.”

“Sure.”

For an out-of-towner she hadn’t forgotten her manners. He watched her reach for the door handle and took a quick survey of the contents of the old machine she drove. The interior was clean, except for the gym bag in the back. The passenger seat held a meager amount of beauty supplies. The old car was close to immaculate. He had to admit it was a bit of a setback to walk up on a Gremlin in decent shape, especially since Cyana appeared to be younger than the vehicle.

When she settled in the seat, he started back to the former stable to finish prepping the floor for tile. He recognized the ticking of her starter, rapping four times in attempts to get the old motor to turn over before there was silence. He heard the door to the car slam shut and stopped in his tracks.

He pivoted, heading back. Rounding the corner, he found her lifting the hood of the car. She took one step back. Her heel snapped on her right pump. A loud “Shoot,” passed her lips. She reached down to her feet.

Her dress hiked in the back, teasing his view while it swayed just below her ass. A smile touched his lips.
What luck is this?

He halted short of approaching her and leaned over the opened hood. “Looks like you could use a hand?”

She shot up straight with a squeal of surprise at his voice. Wide-eyed, she clutched the wounded pump firm in her grasp. The hood of her top fell back, revealing a dark brown mass of kinks crowning her head and stopped slightly past her shoulders. He could see those big eyes clearly now. Their light brown sparkled against the limited sunlight with flecks of gold.

“You have got to stop doing that,” she whispered.

He chuckled. “I really didn't mean to sneak up on you. What do you think the problem is?” he asked. He hadn’t wanted to assume she didn’t know anything about cars. Seeming she owned the beast, she probably was well aware of what ailed it.

“It was just running a moment ago. The starter is turning. I’m sure it’s not that. I think it’s the alternator.”

Impressed, he nodded.
Not only a pastry chef but also knowledgeable about car
s
.

“I bet Matthew’s would have the part I need,” she said.

“Matthew’s Auto parts?” he asked, knowing of the place. How did she know about Matthew’s if she was from out of town?

“Yeah, I’m sure he remembers me.” She smiled.

“Matthew’s, huh? I know the place. Been by there a time or two. He owe you a favor?”

“One?” She emphasized the word. “I grew up with that rat. He better fix my stuff.” Her brow knit in a cute frown for a moment.

“Matthew’s is clear across town. You got money for a tow?” he asked.

She tucked the pump under her arm and yanked a wallet from the pocket of her hoodie and opened it. A meager wad of twenties was fisted out before she shrugged. “This is all I have. I don’t know if it will cover a tow.”

“That is all the money you have?” he asked and started to chuckle.

Cyana stashed away the funds and wallet, grabbed the pump and placed her hands to her hips. Bending the knee of her shoed leg, she balanced her stance. The gleam in her stare meant business. “Look mister, I just drove all the way here from Chicago and put every dime into that tank. Now I’m stuck—”

“Whoa.” He held his palms faced out, surrendering. “Slow down, Love, I’m not poking fun. I just want to make sure you get to where you’re going in one piece.”

C
yana bit back her temper. Her circumstances had nothing to do with Asher. It wasn’t fair to take the brunt of her unfortunate encounters out on him. So far, he had been more than generous to a stranger and hung out longer than any other person would. Plus, it was really hard to stay upset when he called her Love. Of all the southern endearments she had grown up hearing, that wasn’t one of them.

She took a good look at Asher. He was tall and broad in the chest and shoulders. His dark blond hair was slightly overgrown. A two-day shadow of stubble covered his jaw. His gaze caught hers. She thought her heart skipped a beat. His right eye was blue and left a grey-green. His lips were full. He could pass for handsome in any girl’s book, even a girl who tended to like her men dipped in dark chocolate. Her face warmed. If she could blush at her thoughts, she certainly would now. His voice broke her analysis.

“I was thinking you’d have to get the car towed. Then probably shack yourself up somewhere while you wait. That doesn’t look like enough cash to get the car across town
and
a hotel in case Huffing Kitchen doesn’t get your message. I’d hate to send you on your way stranded.”

The defeat weighed her upright shoulders into a slump. A pout formed on her lips as she thought about what he’d said. The rain which died some picked up. She lifted the hoodie to protect her afro style while she considered what she would do.

She couldn’t call on any old family friends. They had long since passed away. Mama stopped going to church once Iona graduated high school fourteen years ago. She wrung her hands together in the pocket of the hoodie and stared at the stone drive. As much as she would trust Matthew with her car, she wouldn’t dare trust him with a woman, especially herself. If she didn’t hear back from Mama and Iona, then she wouldn’t know who she’d be able to stay with until they got in town. She didn’t have a phone anyway.
Crap.
She rolled her eyes.

“Don’t look so lost, sweetheart.” Asher’s voice raised her gaze to his. “You’re a brave one. Chicago, huh? You make a habit of crossing the country by yourself?”

She sighed. “No.”

“Bet this is the first time the old car ever put you down too.”

She laughed. “I’m not the original owner, but yes. I’ve had it for a few years. It’s been very reliable.”

“Well, then you couldn’t possibly see this coming. No telling how long the alternator has been in there.” He leaned back against the car. “If you would like, you can stay here at the Milway until you get a hold of your folks.”

“Here?” She glanced at the mansion, not hiding the excitement of the idea. She’d loved and fantasized about this old home since she could remember. Her heart pitter pattered at a chance to see the interior. “I don’t think the owner would like it. They aren’t here anyway.”

“The owner trusts me with keeping the place. I guess you can hang about under my watch until your folks get back with you.”

“But.” She gestured to the Gremlin.

“I’ll take care of the tow. Does that sound like a deal?”

She worried her lower lip.
Stay in an old mansion with a man I don’t know?
She glanced around at the well manicured lawn soaking up the rainfall. Her sights settled on Asher. Well, he seemed kind enough. If he was going to hurt her, she at least left a message on her sister’s phone about her location. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

He shifted to lower the hood as if the issue was settled. “Get your things. I’ll have the car towed to Matthew’s tonight.”

“Thank you. I owe you one,” she said.

Asher flashed a smile, forcing her heart into a pitter patter before he reached into his pocket and fished out some keys. She lifted her foot with the unbroken pump and yanked it off, pairing it with the wounded one. She followed him up the porch steps. Her stare zoomed in on the tight round of his buns in the carpenter jeans. The sight was admirable.

“I’ll give you a tour of the mansion if you’d like,” he said once he reached the top step.

“Okay,” she said.

“Great.” He unlocked the glass door and held it open. “Ladies first.”

Cyana marveled at the foyer. Her analysis followed the hardwood floor covered by a plush rug. The rounded entry way held two fine chairs on each side with dark coffee tables between them. Each table sported a crystal coaster and matching square vases with brochures on the house stuffed inside them. A smaller container at the right of the flyers held black river rocks and gardenia blossoms floating in a shallow vase. It was a simple setup atop delicate crocheted doilies.

The nickel chandelier hung over the foyer was enormous with crystal shards gleaming against the light it provided. The door closed gently behind her.

“Wow, this is nice,” she awed.

“I’m glad you like it. I had to get a contractor in for the fixture, but I think it was well worth the expense.”

“You did this?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m the project manager. I’ve been onsite for four months now trying to get the house showroom ready for events.”

“You have good taste,” she complimented.

Her gaze met his. He flashed a handsome smile. Her pulse sped more than she wanted.

“Thanks. This is just the entry way. Come on.” He sauntered past her through the opening. “There are two sitting rooms,” he went on to explain. “The one to the right has a French influence; the one to the left, a Colonial American feel. The owner hasn’t truly decided which works better, so I’m trying both. We’ll do a survey later. Which one do you like best?”

She peeked into the French influenced room with light blue sofas; another plush rug matched the colors. The wallpaper ran from floor to ceiling, cream and white with lines of silver and small bouquets of light blue flowers. The coffee table in the center of the room was low with Queen Anne feet. A vase of gardenia flowers and a small closed candy dish filled with individually wrapped mints topped it. A fireplace dominated the back wall.

“This one is nice. I think the colors would be too light for a large party though. If someone spilled a glass of red wine on any of this, I would have a fit.”

He chuckled at her reaction. “Good point.”

She strolled to the Colonial room. The furnishings were a deep cranberry. The coffee tables were simple and functional. The finishing carried an early American style, but was a dark wood and popped against the lighter hard wood floor. A paneled chair rail ran the bottom half, painted white and cream to lighten the room against the contrasting furniture.

Moldings flared from the chandelier in the recessed ceiling, adding character to draw the eye upwards. The table tops were neat, organized with a few vases dotting the corners of the rooms.

“Mm, this is more my style. It’s warm and inviting. The windows let in so much natural light. I could sit in here and read forever.”

“Score one for America.” Asher gave a thumbs-up. “The rest of the house has a more modern feel to it. We’ve kept as much character as we could. But, truth be told, the house was near condemned before we started working on it. We couldn’t spare much.”

“Condemned? Really?”

“Yeah, a kitchen fire destroyed most of the interior.”

“Oh yeah, I remember. I was a senior in high school.” She surveyed the area. “I wouldn’t be able to tell there ever was a fire walking through here now.”

“The previous owner hired a crew to clear the damage out before selling the property. They did a great job.” Asher leaned into his heels. “You seem to know a lot about this place.”

“It’s the biggest property in Weynor. Growing up here, you learn a lot about local history. I never toured the house before the fire though. It’s all new to me.” She shrugged.

She stopped short of telling him about her childhood fantasies of running through Milway mansion halls and feasting at the dinner table of the large imaginary kitchen. Childhood visions of roasted pigs with apples stuffed in their mouths and sweet cakes piled high on silver platters played in the back of her mind.

“Well, most of the rooms are open for dining, food and beverage serving areas and we’ve added extra restrooms. The upstairs has barely been touched. But, if the place books a few more wedding events, it won’t take long to get the capital. Come on. I’ll show you the rest so you can be familiar with the place when you come back.”

“Sure,” she said.

“Just leave your shoes there and follow me.”

Asher’s guided tour took several minutes. She was impressed with how much work had gone into getting the old mansion back to a shadow of its former self. They ended the tour on the far right end of the house in a modern kitchen, fitted with stainless steel appliances and black granite countertops. Small clear glass tiles with occasional black ones scattered throughout the backsplash topped off the appeal.

Cyana ran her hands over the counters, admiring the dishwashers and ovens; opening each to view the capacity. “Is this the kitchen we’ll be using?”

“Oh, no.” Asher shook his head. “This one will be for warming and serving. The old horse stalls off this side of the house have been converted into a kitchen. I left the gate open today for a tile delivery. It was supposed to come in so I could start the stable kitchen tomorrow. I was surprised to see you show up.” Once Asher leaned against the island his phone alerted. He straightened up, tugging it from his pocket. He came closer to her. “This Huffing’s number?” He showed her the screen.

“Yes.” She instantly perked up.

“Go on.” He handed it over.

C
yana took a seat on one of the stools at the tall island before answering the call. Asher watched the big smile stretch her thick glossy lips.
Mm, thick lips on top means thick lips on the...damn.
His cock jumped at the comparison. His ears heated while his mind entertained the feel of her luscious looking mouth.

He didn’t dare take his attention off her. She was distracted and leaving him soon. He would get his fill before she parted. He half-listened to her conversation while admiring the one leg she kept draped towards the floor. With her toe pointed, the muscle of her calf dented in on the side. Her feet appeared freshly serviced with a sparkling red polish to match her dress.

The kitchen was getting too hot. He undid the top button of his flannel. He’d worn a tank top underneath in case the rain chilled the air, but now the two layers were killing him.

He heard the excitement in Cyana’s voice drop; then shoved his hands in his pockets before getting closer to her. The news wasn’t good.

“More time? Iona, I’ve driven from Chicago to work on this cake. Now, I’m stranded at the Milway. Yes, I found help. Asher has been more than generous with his time and his phone.” She huffed, putting her hand against her forehead. “Yes, I forgive you. It’s not all your fault anyway. If my phone hadn’t been trashed, I would have been able to call you earlier. Some guy knocked it out of my hand at the rest stop on the Tennessee line after I spoke to you. It hit the concrete and shattered into a million pieces. I know.” She hotly agreed to whatever her sister was saying. “I don’t know. I’ll figure something out. I said I don’t know. Asher’s going to have the car towed to Matthew’s tonight. You’ll have to bring some cash to reimburse him. Um hum. Take it out of what you’re paying me.”

She let out a loud sigh. “I’m down to my capital savings, which I’m not touching. Work with me here. Okay, when I know where I’m staying, I’ll call you. Probably at Matthew’s. I’ll sleep in the car or whatever.” She listened for a moment. “That boy better not touch me. I used to patch up his boo-boo’s. Then I’ll knock his drunk ass out.” She heaved in a breath, shutting her gaze while shaking her head. “Of course I don’t want to be around it again. What other choice do I have? This isn’t the same. I’ll be fine. Look, if it really bothers you, I’ll walk to the store and nab a burner until the insurance replaces this one, but the purchase will wipe out all my hands on cash. Deal. Okay Iona, you’re burning up Asher’s minutes. Okay. I’ll call you. Love you too. Bye.” She hung up the phone with a heavy sigh.

She flashed a forlorn gaze at him while handing it over.

“Thanks, Asher.”

“You talk to all your business associates like that?” he asked with a grin.

“Oh,” she smiled, “Huffing Kitchen’s family owned and operated by my Mama and sister. Trust me,” she waved a dismissive hand, “I don’t love everyone I work with. I’ll be getting out of your hair as soon as you call Matthew’s. I’ll make sure you get reimbursed. Can you wait until Sunday night for it?”

He nodded. “I won’t go broke before then. What did your sister say?”

“She and Mama got invited to stay at the fair three more nights. It’s the last three nights of the festivity anyway. They’ve been such a hit the organizers are giving them the booth rental free.”

“Oh, yeah? The food’s that good.”

She gave a smile. “Yeah.” She dragged the word out with a hint of pride. “It’s disappointing I traveled so far to see them. It’ll be lost time to visit, but I can’t blame them. The booth rental totals eight hundred dollars. They get to still serve from the port-a-kitchen and gain customers from their spot virtually for free. It’s a good business call.” She shrugged.