Small-Town Cinderella (The Pirelli Brothers) (15 page)

A catcall and a few whoops went up as Debbie held a clinging black negligee against her body. Drew’s mouth went dry. It didn’t matter that the only thing he could see through the sheer lace was the cream-colored sweater and floral leggings she’d been wearing all evening. He knew what was beneath those leggings and that sweater and could imagine what her creamy skin would look like draped in black lace as easily as he could picture himself slowly stripping the negligee away from her gorgeous curves.

“As soon as I saw that nightgown, I thought of our conversation the night of my bachelorette party and knew I had to get for you...just in case.”

Just in case
Debbie found a handsome stranger to sweep her off her feet. Darcy might not have known Drew had overheard that conversation, but Debbie did. He waited, caught in a mix of anticipation and dread, for her blue eyes to swing his way. And when they did—

Jerking his gaze away, he stalked off into his parents’ kitchen. He doubted his mom had any hard liquor on hand, but maybe he could stick his head in the freezer and at least cool off part of his body. Even if it wasn’t the half ready to explode. He’d downed a glass of ice water and was going back for a refill when the door behind him swung open and Debbie stepped inside. Just like that his heart rate jumped into high gear and his blood heated. At least she’d left the nightgown back in the living room.

“Drew—”

“Debbie—”

They both broke off with a short laugh, some of the tension easing as they spoke at the same time. “Ladies first.”

“I’m sorry about snapping at you earlier,” she blurted out. “It’s been a long time since I seriously thought about doing something other than running the bakery. I never told anyone about applying to culinary school. No one except you, that is.”

“You didn’t tell Bonnie?” The two of them had been so close, Drew couldn’t imagine Debbie keeping such a big secret from her mother.

“When I first applied, I didn’t really think I’d get in.”

“But once you did—”

“Once I did, my mom’s cancer had already come back. Telling her about the school, about what I was giving up to stay with her, would have only made her feel bad.”

“Just like me bringing it up again made you feel bad,” he guessed.

Debbie ducked her head, but not before he saw the lingering hurt shining in her eyes. Swearing beneath his breath at his own stupidity, he pulled her into his arms and felt the rest of the tension leave his body when she nestled willingly into his chest.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. And I swear that wasn’t my intention. I just thought this might be an opportunity for you to branch out, to go after what you really want.” He hated the idea of her settling for less. She deserved a career that left her fulfilled instead of empty. And an open, honest relationship instead of one she felt the need to hide.

Or was that just what
he
wanted?

“I know, and that’s why I’m sorry for reacting the way I did. But I’m finally at a point where I can relax a little. Where I have a bit of freedom to go out and have a good time and—”

“Find some tall, dark stranger to have a secret fling with?” Drew filled in.

Still holding her, his chin resting against the softness of her blond hair, he could feel as well as hear her laughter. The vibrations settled into his chest, into his heart, the same way Debbie had.

“Some tall, dark,
handsome
stranger,” she stressed. “I don’t want to give that up....” Lifting her head, she met his gaze as she hesitantly asked, “Do you?”

“Give it up? Not a chance.” He wanted more, not less. “I just don’t see why it has to be one or the other.”

“Because that’s the way it’s always been,” Debbie confessed. “The bakery comes first and everything else a distant or nonexistent second. And sometimes I get so tired of it that I just want to quit, but how do you quit when you’re the boss and it’s your business and my mom— She would be so disappointed in me if she knew I felt this way.”

“I think you’re right.”

His words stabbed at her, and her startled gaze flew to his. “That’s not what you’re supposed to say. You’re supposed to tell me I’m wrong and my mother would never hate for me for feeling like this.”

“Okay,
now
you’re wrong. Your mother would never hate you, but I do think she’d be disappointed that you aren’t following your own dreams. That you aren’t doing what
you
love. I can’t imagine that she would have left you the bakery if she didn’t think you’d be happy.”

“
She
was,” Debbie admitted. “She was so happy to run the bakery, and sometimes I wonder what’s wrong with me that it’s not enough...that I want more. But you already figured that out, didn’t you? And I jumped all over you because just hearing you suggest it made me feel so guilty.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting more. With wanting...everything.”

Gazing into his dark eyes, Debbie almost forgot to breathe. She could so easily get lost in the caring and compassion she saw there. In the undefined
everything
he was promising. “I, um, do want to make some changes at the bakery. Now that I’ve hired Kayla, it’s given me time to focus on expanding the menu—”

“Like with the fall cupcakes,” he said, the deepening of his voice telling her he was remembering more than tasting the pumpkin spice and chocolate cakes.

“Exactly. And I—I’ve done some more promotion for wedding cakes. It’s not totally new for me. I’ve made several over the years, but just locally for friends and acquaintances. It’s never been a big part of the business.”

“Everyone raved about the cakes you made for Darcy and Nick and for Sophia and Jake.”

“Well, I don’t know that everyone did—”

“Then you just didn’t hear them, because believe me, sweetheart, people couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful they looked and how great they tasted—kind of like the woman who made them.”

Sputtering a laugh, Debbie said, “Well, I hope you’re right—about the cakes, at least. I asked Darcy and Nick’s photographer to take some extra shots of the wedding cake. As soon as I get those back I’m going to redesign my website with a page just for wedding cakes, as well as doing some advertising in bridal magazines. I’m kind of excited to see what the response might be.” As she said the words, Debbie realized it was true. “It’s a part of the bakery that could be all mine, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that. It’s like the house I’m building. I work just as hard and pay just as much attention to detail on every house, but it still feels different knowing this one is going to be my own.”

The sound of voices from the living room carried into the kitchen. “What? I’m just going for drinks.”

The door swung open, but not before Debbie had a split second to step out of Drew’s embrace. The platter of leftover cake sitting on the kitchen island caught her attention, and by the time Sam stepped inside with Sophia following close on his heels, she was calmly slicing the dessert. “I’m cutting the leftovers into smaller pieces. Do you both want to take some home?”

“Probably shouldn’t.” Sophia placed her hands on her expanding stomach. “Jake will eat it all and yet I’ll be the one to end up gaining weight.”

“Are you kidding?” Sam asked. “Timmy would eat cake for breakfast if we let him. Drew, pass me a couple of beers, will you?”

As he tossed Sam the cans, Sophia looked from Drew to Debbie and back again. “So what were you two talking about in here?”

“My new house,” he answered before Debbie could even come up with an excuse.

“It’s going to be amazing, Debbie. You should see it—” Her dark eyes lit suddenly. “In fact, that’s a great idea! Drew, you should take Debbie out there and give her a tour.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Sophia,” Debbie protested, remembering his comment that he wanted the house finished before showing off the place.

But he was already pulling his keys from the pocket of his jeans. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Eleven

“A
re you sure you don’t mind taking me to see the house?” Debbie asked as Drew climbed behind the wheel. “I remember what you said about wanting to show off the finished product.”

“I figured you could maybe use a break from my family.” Drew glanced over at her as he guided the oversize SUV away from the Pirellis’ home.

“Are you kidding? I love your family.”

“Well, then, maybe I’m the one who needed a break from them,” he said wryly. “Especially if it means being alone with you.”

A small shiver raced through her at his words, and she grinned as he reached over and took her hand. Too bad the cab had bucket seats with a gearshift preventing her from sliding up against him. Instead she had to settle for twining her fingers through his and feeling the pressure of his knuckles against her leg.

For a few minutes, they sat in easy silence, driving down the highway cutting through the towering pines, until Debbie asked, “What were you, Sam and Nick talking about earlier? It looked pretty serious.”

His broad shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Usual stupid stuff. Arguing over who would be Sam’s best man.”

She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t think his explanation was 100 percent true. “You’re lucky, you know, and I’ve always been a little envious.”

“Why? Do you want to be Sam’s best man?”

“Very funny. What I meant is that growing up I used to wish I had brothers and sisters. Not that I told my mom that. She wanted more kids, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

“I always liked your mom. I remember her sneaking me and my brothers cookies while my parents pretended not to notice. The thought that we were getting away with something made those bite-size treats taste even better.”

“Forbidden fruit,” she teased even as she recalled her conversation with Sophia at the bakery the other day. Was the newness and the secrecy of her relationship with Drew what made it so sweet? she wondered. But then Drew moved his thumb, stroking her skin through the thin fabric of her leggings, and she couldn’t imagine the rush of desire ever growing old. Couldn’t imagine her feelings ever fading.

Drew pulled the SUV off the paved road and slowed to a bumpy crawl over a long, graded driveway. As they rounded a curve, Debbie glanced through the front windshield. “Oh, Drew.”

When he climbed from the truck and came around to open her door, she slid from the passenger seat and got an even better look at the house he’d built. Nestled in a wooded grove, the towering pines and the fading rays of sunset were the perfect back for the beautiful house. Even though the raw, unfinished wood was still exposed, the solid shape and style of the house was apparent. The front had a traditional Craftsman porch and entry with two columns on either side of the steps. But the house spread out, far larger than the typical turn-of-the-century homes.

“It doesn’t look like much yet. The siding still needs to go up and eventually the base of the columns will be covered by stone veneer. I’m planning to stain the porch and stairs to match,” he said as he led the way up those same stairs.

“It’s incredible,” she breathed as he opened the door and ushered her inside.

“With the exposed wires and piping, sometimes it can be hard to imagine what it will look like with actual walls and floors made of something other than concrete.”

Despite the typical construction dust and debris, Debbie didn’t have any trouble at all picturing the home when it was finished. The foyer opened into a large great room. The far wall was almost all windows, giving a view of the mountains and trees backed up to the property. Room had been left for a large deck, and she could almost smell the scent of grilled burgers filling the air along with the sound of laughter as the Pirellis gathered in Drew’s backyard.

To the right of the living room was the kitchen, a huge expanse, empty now but with plenty of room for state-of-the-art appliances. Debbie could see the outline on the bare floors, marking the location of a large center island. The open floor plan would make it possible for whoever was in the kitchen to still interact with family and guests. A formal dining room was framed in on the other side of the great room, but Debbie knew most meals would be shared around the island. Another room with the same view of the mountains was reserved for Drew’s study. And then he showed her the bedrooms.

Lots of bedrooms.

“This is really a big house,” she said as they stood in one of the secondary bedrooms. A child’s bedroom—one that would start out as a nursery and then grow from there along with the child who slept within its walls.

Drew’s child. A quietly serious, dark-haired, dark-eyed boy. Or maybe a sweetly shy daughter who would have her daddy wrapped around her little finger. She could almost hear the childish laughter filling the room.

“I figured if I was going to go through all the work of building my own place, it should include everything I want.”

Everything he wanted... He’d told her that he, too, was looking for adventure and excitement when they started out on their affair, but what was that saying about actions speaking louder than words? This house, this home Drew was building with his own hands, this was the reality he truly wanted. A wife, kids, a family to go along with the dog he already owned.

He’d encouraged her to go after her dreams, but how was she supposed to encourage him to go after his when it meant letting him go? And not just losing what they had, but losing him to another woman?

The ache in her chest grew until she could barely breathe. She turned away from the room, from the image of the child who would one day sleep inside it, but Drew was right there. Waiting...watching... His gaze caught hers and something...happened. Those dreams of the future, Drew’s
dreams, were written in clear detail in the longing on his handsome face. The wife, the kids, the family. Only suddenly Debbie saw herself in the reflection of his dark eyes. Saw herself as his wife, his children as her children, his family as her family....

And the feeling that surrounded her wasn’t one of pressure, of responsibility closing in and trapping her on every side. Instead the embrace was filled with hope, with possibility and with love.

* * *

“Follow me home?” Debbie asked as Drew pulled his SUV next to her small VW parked in his parents’ driveway. Her heart was pounding as if she was asking Drew to make love to her the first time. She couldn’t pretend tonight wouldn’t be different. Admitting how she felt—even just to herself—would only leave her heart that much more open to Drew. She’d no longer be able to hide behind the pretense that their relationship was some kind of no-strings affair.

But looking at the heat in Drew’s eyes, she couldn’t help wondering if the only one she’d been fooling was herself....

“I might just beat you there.”

Laughing, she was reaching for her purse when her cell phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number but swiped the screen to accept the call. “Hello?”

“Debbie, this is Andrea Collins.”

“Andrea, hello.” Debbie hoped her voice didn’t reveal her surprise. Andrea was the town’s Realtor, and while Debbie knew the older woman by sight and reputation, they weren’t close enough to have exchanged cell phone numbers. “How are you?”

“How am I? I’m desperate, that’s how I am. I need your help.”

“Help with what?” Catching her side of the conversation, Drew raised his eyebrows, but Debbie could only shrug.

“Saving a wedding and the lives of my unborn grandchildren.”

“Um, okay. Wow. How can I help with that?”

“My lovely daughter is getting married. This weekend. And her husband-to-be, man that he is, gladly left all the details up to her. ‘It’s your day, dear. Whatever makes you happy makes me happy.’” Andrea quoted her future son-in-law’s voice with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “Yeah, right.”

“I take it he’s not happy?”

“No, he is not. Evidently, he’s allergic. To strawberries—as is half of his entire, anaphylactic family.”

Starting to get a feel for where the conversation was going, Debbie said, “Let me guess. Your daughter’s wedding cake has strawberries on it?”

“On it. In it. With berries carved into tiny flowers topping the whole gorgeous, inedible thing.”

“Did you contact the bakery?”

“Oh, sure, as soon as we realized the problem. But it’s too late. They book their weddings months in advance, and while they are very sorry for our problem, it’s very much our problem and they have no solution to offer. Debbie, please, I am desperate. Caroline is my only child and she is thirty-five years old. My window of opportunity for becoming a grandmother is closing fast, and I will not have it slam shut because of a food allergy.”

“I doubt your daughter and her fiancé would call off the wedding just because of the cake.”

“You’d be surprised. Caroline has a serious case of cold feet. She’s looking at any negative as a sign that she’s not supposed to go through with this wedding, even though her fiancé, despite his allergies, is an amazing man who adores her. Please, Debbie. I tried telling my daughter we could get a cake from the grocery store, and I thought she was going to pass out. You are my last hope. I heard all about the cake you made for Nick and Darcy’s wedding. I know you can do this.”

After asking Andrea to send her a photo of the type of cake her daughter had in mind, Debbie explained the trouble to Drew. “Jeez, I’m not sure who I feel more sorry for,” he said, “Caroline, her fiancé or Andrea.”

“I can’t believe Caroline’s fiancé didn’t tell her about his allergy.”

“Ah, give the poor guy a break. His mind was probably focused on the honeymoon.”

“Not sure it was his mind,” Debbie muttered, but Drew only grinned in response. He climbed from the SUV and opened the door for her. A second later, her phone beeped and an image of the cake glowed on the screen.

“Oh, wow.” She’d seen her share of amazing cakes—even made a few herself—but the photo was of a masterpiece. The graduated round layers were covered in white fondant and decorated with a diamond-shaped quilted pattern. Small gold sugar pearls dotted each point, and the dreaded, delicately carved strawberries waterfalled from one level to the next. And if all that wasn’t challenging enough, the tiers didn’t stack one on top of the other. Instead they were offset, almost defying gravity, with an impressive height.

Even Drew let out a low whistle. “That is some cake.”

“I don’t think I can do this. I mean, if I had
days,
maybe, but by tomorrow? I don’t know... And besides, we have...plans.”

“It’s only one weekend, Debbie.”

“But that’s just it. It’s not. It’s been every weekend for the past ten years,” she said with a sigh. “The bakery comes first and everything else is second.”

“It’s not the same thing. This is your chance, sweetheart. You told me you wanted wedding cakes to be a bigger part of the business, and you know Andrea Collins. She has connections all over the place. You do this for her, and she’ll be all the advertising you need.”

“Yeah, and if I blow it—”

“You can do this.” Lifting her hand, he held the screen and the image of the cake in front of her. “You can do
this
.”

“Drew...you don’t understand. I’ve never made a cake like that before. The cakes I’ve made have always stacked on top of each other with dowels or decorative pillars to support the layers above. This—this is—”

“It’s a spiral staircase.” He pointed to the cake. “There’s a center column, just like on a staircase, and each layer of cake is like one of the treads. As long as the column is solid and secure to the base, it’ll support the treads with no problem. Or in this case, the layers of cake.”

He was right, Debbie realized, and even if she wouldn’t have described the cake in those terms, the structures were the same. If she used a larger dowel in the center, could she attach the layers to create the same cascade effect as Caroline’s original cake? “I could always add extra support beneath each of the layers, too. Ones that would go down to the base at the bottom. You’d be able to see it from the back of the cake, but not from the front.”

“And you could always scale this down a little, too. This thing has—what? Seven layers? You could cut back to five and still have the same look overall.”

“No, I think I could still do all seven. Because, look, if I had the layers overlap a little more, I could still use regular dowels hidden inside the cake to support the tier above. And I—I can do this, Drew.”

“I never had a doubt.”

“But—what about tonight? I’d have to start baking right away to give the cakes time to chill before I can decorate and stack them.”

“There will be other nights. I promise you that. But right now, it’s time for you to play heroine, to ride to the rescue and save Caroline’s wedding day.”

* * *

Fueled by half a pot of coffee and the challenge of recreating the original wedding cake, Debbie was up at four in the morning leveling the first and largest layer of the cake. She’d baked the seven layers of chocolate cake the night before after checking with Andrea to make sure the family had no chocolate allergies to worry about. The cakes had chilled in the refrigerator while she’d grabbed a few hours’ sleep, making them slightly less fragile and easier to work with.

A soft knock at the back door took her by surprise. She wasn’t expecting Kayla for another hour, but it wasn’t her assistant who greeted her with a smile.

“Vanessa! What are you doing here?”

“My son has called me in for reinforcement. He says you have a wedding cake to make and no time to do your usual baking, so he asked me to lend a hand.” The older woman’s eyes sparkled, and Debbie didn’t even want to guess what Drew’s mother was thinking about her son’s request. “I’ll be the first to admit, I’ve never been paid for any of the meals I’ve made over the years—unless you count the praise and gratitude of my hungry family—but I can say with all honesty that I am an amazing cook.”

“Of course you are!” Debbie readily agreed, but she never would have thought to ask for help. “Part of me can’t believe Drew did this, but the other part knows I shouldn’t have expected anything less.”