One Funeral (No Weddings Book 2) (25 page)

On Wednesday, he’d given me black-and-white photographs of a day he spent in Central Park: horse-drawn carriages, cherry trees in full bloom, and an older couple sitting on a bench, holding hands, pure happiness radiating in their expressions. Yesterday, he gave me a delicate potted orchid. Its lacy ivory flowers looked like pink paint had been splattered on the petals.

I glanced at my silent phone. He’d been MIA all morning. Instead of coming by before hours with coffee, he’d been absent without a word, which was unusual. Although he’d graduated and had all but removed himself from the bar’s responsibilities, he woke early every morning just to bring coffee and spend a little quiet time with me before my hectic workday.

I turned off the mixer, satisfied with the consistency of the frosting when I saw my phone light up on the desk. “Daniel, can you frost that last batch of red velvets?”

“Sure thing, Boss.” He abandoned the inventorying with Chloe in the refrigerator and grabbed the spatula from me.

Wiping my hands on my apron, I walked over to the desk and picked up my phone. I grinned when I saw there were two texts from Cade.

You busy?

A minute later, another text had come through.

If you’re busy, we can come back another time.

Curious about the “we,” I untied my apron from behind my back and pulled it over my head. “Hey, guys, can you cover for me for a bit?” I tossed the apron onto my office chair and shoved my phone into my back jeans pocket.

Chloe popped her head out from behind the refrigerator door. “We got it, Hannah. Go take lunch.”

Rounding the corner, I furrowed my brow when I didn’t see Cade, or anyone else for that matter, in the front lounge area. Then, movement caught my attention through the window.

I gaped, blinking, and stepped closer.

In Cade’s arms was the most adorable black-and-brown puppy on the planet, one ear half cocked up with the tip folded over.

“Awww...” I opened the door, holding my hands out. “So cuuute.”

He chuckled, handing him over. “Thanks. I knew shaving this morning would earn me points.”

I rolled my eyes, snuggling with the furry cutie pie. “Not you, Mr. Ego, the puppy. What is he?”

“
She
is a German Shepherd.”

As I nuzzled her, I blinked, then looked up at Cade, all amusement fading from my face. “Did you just buy me a puppy?”

He shook his head, hooking a leash into her collar. “Nope. Borrowed one.”

I refused to let go of the soft little bundle in my arms and strolled after Cade when he started walking, the leash hanging loose between us. “How do you borrow a dog, exactly?”

Glancing over his shoulder, he arched a brow and slowed until we caught up. “You visit a pet store and give the employee forty bucks to go walk the best-looking dog in their shop.”

“And they let you take a dog for forty dollars? How did they know you weren’t a dognapper?”

He sighed. “They’re also holding my driver’s license hostage. It’s either her, or the bike.”

I shook my head, laughing. “So we’re walking a dog for today’s surprise?”

“Well, you’re carrying a dog at the moment, but yeah. I also stopped by Lila’s and grabbed some sandwiches.” He held up the white paper bag in his hand. “Thought we’d do a picnic in the park.”

I blinked, absorbing all that information. “You walked from the pet store, to Lila’s, to my shop?”

He snatched the puppy from me and put it on the ground. “No, silly. The pet store employee gave me a ride. Part of that forty-dollar tip.”

The puppy bounded ahead, tugging us along the sidewalk, until a weed with a yellow flower growing up through a crack caught her interest. When we continued walking, the leash snapped taut, yanking Cade to a stop. We turned to find her plopped in front of the weed, snapping her jaws at the top of it.

I picked her up before she ate the thing, scolding her with loving tones while I buried my nose into her neck. “That’s yucky, Dog. Might have pesticides on it.”

Cade scowled. “You can’t go calling the poor thing ‘Dog.’”

We crossed the street at the corner, and I put her down in the grass once we reached the other side. She tore off running in every direction, stopping when the leash yanked her short, then circling around in the perimeter she’d been given, tangling the leash up in our legs as we walked.

“So we’re naming borrowed dogs now?”

“Pretend like we’re on a Big Sister outing. You don’t borrow those kids. You mentor them. Spend time with them. Hope that for the small amount of time you’ve been granted in each other’s lives, both of you gain valuable memories from the experience. You don’t go calling them ‘Kid.’”

I snorted. “Of course not. But they already have names.”

Cade found a dry patch of grass in the dappled shade of an oak tree fresh with green leaves, and we sat down. “Well, I think we should name her. For the few hours we have her, we are not calling her ‘Dog.’”

The moment Cade opened the bag, making its paper crinkle, the puppy abandoned chasing grasshoppers and ran over to investigate, toppling into Cade’s lap, paws everywhere. Laughing, Cade held the bag above the reach of her little snapping jaws. He pulled out an iced tea, stabbed a straw through the top of it, and handed it to me. Then he unwrapped my croissant halfway and handed me the paper-covered portion before doing the same with his.

When he put the bag beside him on the lawn, the puppy alerted on the crinkling sound again and scrambled out of Cade’s lap, chasing it. I took small bites of my sandwich, watching the little one’s adventure in trying to capture the bag while the breeze tugged it away inches at a time.

“Mmm, Lila makes a killer chicken salad croissant.” It had shredded chicken instead of chunks, diced Granny Smith apples, and either sweetened cranberries or cherries.

I took a sip of tea, watching the puppy play, when a thought struck me.

“I want to name her Ava.”

Cade glanced at the puppy, who’d finally gotten the better of the bag and caught it. But then she burrowed her head inside, and the bag one-upped the puppy by getting stuck there, refusing to dislodge. The puppy stumbled around, shaking the paper bag back and forth.

“Sure you don’t want to rethink that? Not Trouble or Einstein?”

I laughed as Cade put his big hand on her fuzzy hindquarters, ruffling her fur in rapid movements until she tipped over, the bag crunching. “Why a
boy
genius name? Why not Amelia? As in Earhart.”

He glanced back at me. “Was Amelia genius, or courageous?”

I smiled. “There’s brilliance in great courage.”

His expression turned serious, almost admiring, as he gazed at me, tilting his head. “Indeed, there is. Thank God for courage.”

Heat flushed into my cheeks, and overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, I slid my attention back toward the puppy. She’d discovered how to wriggle while digging her hind paws into the ground and freed herself from her paper prison. With a yip, she bounded up and ran back to us, tumbling into my lap this time.

“Ava was Gran’s name. I think she would’ve loved this little puppy. We never had any pets growing up.”

Cade’s brows rose. “Never? Not even a goldfish?” He’d admitted to me not long after we’d met that he would only commit to a goldfish because he could flush it.

I shook my head. “Not even a flushable goldfish. When my mom died and then Granpop, it was just Gran and me. And I guess I never wanted a pet.” I shrugged.

“You miss your family, don’t you?”

Fingering the soft fur on the puppy’s ear as she curled into a ball in my lap, I gazed out across the park, watching kids tossing a blue Frisbee across the lawn in a triangle formation. “I miss Gran the most. We were the closest, even when Mom and Granpop were still alive. She raised me, really. And it was like she was both my mom and my best friend.”

I finished the last bites of my sandwich as Cade lifted a dozing puppy from my lap, waking her up. In his large hands, he held her up to his face by her front shoulders and belly, the back end of her body hanging relaxed. She licked his chin. He chuckled.

“Well, I think that’s settled, then. Ava it is—named after a courageous and much-loved woman.”

Happier than I expected at the christening, I knocked into Cade with my shoulder, leaning against him. “She looks like an Ava.”

Cade pulled Ava in front of my face, and she licked all over my mouth and nose. I pulled back, scrunching my face, laughing.

Eventually, we walked back to my shop, dawdling as we let Ava explore each bright new color and amazing scent. She even stopped to deposit a small pile of poop in the middle of the sidewalk.

Cade scowled. “Nice. Very ladylike. Couldn’t you have copped a squat at the park?” Ever the gentleman, he handed me the leash and proceeded to pick up the mess as best he could with our croissant wrappers.

“How very gallant, my knight.”

He glanced up, scrunching his nose. “Anything to spare m’lady the stink of fresh dog shit.”

I laughed as he folded up the paper, carefully avoiding touching said shit, tossed the clump into the bag, and dropped it into the nearest trash bin. Ava kept tugging on the leash, wanting to sniff the base of the next lamppost. By the time he caught up to our exploration team, we’d almost reached the shop.

I beamed a smile up at him as he approached with his hands in his pocket. “Thank you for today. I had a great time.”

He leaned in, glancing down at my lips. “Did I earn a kiss for today?”

I bit my lip, then grinned. “You earn a kiss just for being you, Cade. But are you sure you want to kiss me? Ava slobbered all over me.”

His eyes glittered. “I’m willing to take the risk of kissing when our mouths have been elsewhere if you are.”

My brain guttered that comment, and I swallowed hard, my mind frazzling and unable to connect thoughts as his warm lips collided with mine. Soft pressure teased until I sighed. When my lips parted, his tongue flicked in.

He pulled away before it seemed to begin. And yet I was left breathless.

He scooped up Ava and held her in the crook of his arm. “So how’s the dragon?”

“It’s coming together like I’d always imagined.” I ruffled Ava’s ears.

“Can I see it?”

I shook my head. “No way. You don’t get to see my creations before they’re finished. Besides, you’re puppy-sitting, and it’s against health codes to have a dog in there.”

He gave me a deadpan look.

“
No
. It’s also unsanitary.” I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t make the germaphobe in me lecture you.”

He chuckled. “Okay. I’ll wait. Two more days won’t kill me. So you’re cool with skipping tonight and tomorrow?”

The smile faded off my face. He had scheduling issues at the bar, and I had my monstrous cake to finish. But when I glanced at adorable little Ava as she nestled deeper into his arms, a lump the size of a car formed in my throat.

Cade stood there, watching me. Not reacting at all.

I sighed, feeling a part of my chest caving in. Then something inside snapped, and I braced the wall up with a steel-beam decision. “You know you can’t return Ava, right?”

A slow smile crept onto his face. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

I laughed, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “How long have you been hoping that?”

“From the moment I picked her out for you.”

I
t took meticulous care and planning with two trips in a rented van, but the cake arrived at the newly opened Chinese restaurant Summer Palace in segments before 10:00 a.m. Eleven feet long and three feet wide, the cake undulated three feet up at its highest peak. Then it swooped back down to the tabletop in several places from its nostril-blown flames to the bony, spiked tail. The creation was the largest and most elaborate of my career thus far.

After Daniel and Chloe helped me secure the underlying plywood pieces into place, they left me alone in the empty restaurant to “paint” the final green-frosted scales onto the dragon and the blue waves in the water to camouflage the seams. It took great concentration over another two hours, but by the time I finished, the only thing that denoted where the break points were was icing that hadn’t yet dried completely.

I’d felt the owner’s presence once or twice while I worked, but she left me uninterrupted for the duration, and I was able to focus in solitude with the restaurant being closed until tonight’s celebration. I finally stepped back from the raised platform in the back of the dining room, skirting around the red velvet ropes they’d erected to designate the area as private, feeling confident they’d keep it safe until the party.

“Is beautiful, Miss Hannah.” The owner approached on silent feet.

I turned to see her admiring the elaborate scene from the corner. Moving to stand beside her, I took in the entire piece from her perspective. A dragon rose out of the water, surrounded by diminutive, classically styled dragon boats that floated around its clawed feet, like babies surrounding their mother. In the foreground were manicured gardens and two structures modeled after genuine temples.

“Thank you, Miss Ling. I’m honored that you asked me to create it.”