The Practice Proposal (7 page)

Frank must have invited the Sutherlands. It would make sense, even though Cole didn’t
like the idea. He remembered Frank saying it was all about the optics. This happy-family
gathering with Liza’s parents was a good way to convince the bloggers that Cole was
serious about her.

“Frank rustled up the judges,” he said.

Paige came out of the kitchen with dessert plates, forks, and pink-and-yellow-striped
napkins. “I told you the judges would be handpicked and hungry.”

Cole and Liza said their hellos to the bloggers, and Cole proudly introduced her to
Frank.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Price,” she said, blushing. The guy was a big-time agent,
and she was a true sports fan, so she might’ve been a little starstruck.

Mack introduced her to Brenda, then they got around to Sylvia. Cole swallowed hard.

“Mom,” Liza said. “You remember Cole.”

Sylvia opened her arms and gave him a warm hug. For a moment he felt as if nothing
had changed, as if years of struggling hadn’t shaped him into the person he’d become.
“We’ve missed you,” she said with a motherly smile. Her eyes sparkled with sincerity,
and he noticed that they were the same shade of green as Liza’s.

Cole nodded, working to look pleasant. “Nice to see you again.” And he kind of meant
that. He’d always been fond of Sylvia. But John was the one he hoped had missed him.
Missed every stinkin’ stolen base, defensive out, and run he’d scored for the Nationals
and not for the Orioles.

John stood next to Sylvia, looking straight at Cole, his lips pressed into a smile.
He was several inches shorter than Cole—but that was still pretty tall—and he’d aged
a little over the years. Even so, he was still a striking figure, in fighting shape,
with a full head of silver hair. Cole faced him, feeling a little sick—like he shouldn’t
have done so much nibbling and licking the bowl while he’d been baking.

“Dad,” Liza said, looking from John to Cole. “I don’t think you two need an introduction.”

Damn straight…

Cole wanted to throttle Frank for putting him in this position. But Frank hadn’t known
the history, and Liza and the Sutherlands did come across as the picture-perfect family
for Cole to be associated with.

John extended his hand and Cole shook it firmly, wishing he wasn’t wearing a chef’s
apron right then. “Good to see you, Cole,” John said, sounding pretty convincing.
But Cole had fallen for his fatherly shtick before. “Heck of a season you’ve got going.”

No thanks to you.
Cole’s pulse pounded in his ears. “It’s been a lot of fun.”

Liza narrowed her eyes and shifted her gaze from Cole to her father.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Paige called as she came out of the kitchen balancing a covered
pie on a tray in either hand. “It’s time for the celebrity pie death match.”

Everyone chuckled but Cole, who managed a small smile.

“I’m not a celebrity,” Liza said.

“Play along, girl,” Paige teased as she set the pies on a cart. “I’m trying to create
some drama here.” She rolled the cart in front of the table where everyone could see
it.

“Some things never change,” Liza quipped.

Paige motioned Liza and Cole over to the cart. They stepped behind it, and she stood
between them.

“In the left corner,” Paige said, “we have Miss Liza Sutherland from Birdland, the
home of the Baltimore Orioles. She’s made an Os pie that’s sure to be a hit with everyone.”

Cole groaned at the lame pun, along with several others. “Except me,” he joked.

Paige whipped the cover off of Liza’s pie. “Liza, tell them about your offering.”

Cole got his first look at the competition and was thankful he hadn’t had to work
with black and orange. But he had to give Liza credit. Her pie was artfully done,
even though it looked like something you’d whip up for Halloween. He winked at her,
just to let her know he wasn’t intimidated.

She smirked at him playfully and straightened her back, looking tough, and he couldn’t
help thinking about their bet. The girl could smirk all she wanted, but he was still
going to get that kiss. He was amazed how real his desire felt in a relationship that
was supposed to be fake.

“I started with an Oreo crust,” Liza said, “otherwise known as Oriole crust.”

Cole shook his head, while everyone chuckled.

“Then I filled it with a mix of vanilla ice cream, vanilla flavoring, and whipped
cream.” Liza cupped her hand around her mouth and whispered loud enough for everyone
to hear. “I added orange food coloring—”

“That’s unnatural!” Cole said.

Liza lifted her hands, palms up. “I mean, come on. Try to make something orange that’s
not pumpkin or sweet potato.”

“Then you would have lost for sure,” he teased. He couldn’t believe he was having
this much fun with Sutherland in the room.

“That’s unsportsmanlike,” she said with a grin. “Where’s a good umpire when you need
one?”

Frank hooted, and several others joined in. Paige seemed pleased that everything was
going so well. Cole liked seeing Liza so animated and happy. The bloggers were captivated
by her, and he could see why.

He was a little captivated himself.

“Then,” Liza said, “I added crushed Oreo cookies and brownie bits to the mix, so you
have all that yummy texture and a rich vanilla ice cream taste. I topped it with a
band of whipped cream with orange sprinkles and put a Sugar Sheet Orioles logo on
an Oreo medallion and stood it up in the middle.” She gestured toward her pie in a
Vanna White kind of way, and everyone clapped and whistled. Cole gave her props, too.
Her pie looked good, but he was sure his had hers whipped.

“In the right corner,” Paige said after things calmed down, “we have Mr. Cole Collins
of Natstown, home of the Washington Nationals. He’s knocked it out of the park with
his Nats pie.”

Everyone groaned again, and Paige giggled.

“Cole, tell them about your pie.” She pulled the cover off.

Several people oohed and aahed, and Liza’s eyes widened. Cole gave her a gotcha look,
and wondered how soon he could get his kiss.

“Wow,” Mack said. “That’s a heck of a good-lookin’ pie. If baseball doesn’t work out
for you—”

Frank slapped his hand against his heart. “Don’t even say that out loud.”

“I started with a graham cracker crust,” Cole said. “Otherwise known as Nationals
crust.”

Liza scrunched her nose and shook her head, then she busted out laughing with everyone
else. “Those have nothing to do with each other.”

Cole nodded. “Now they do.”

“Then I mixed up a mean traditional pound cake. You know, butter, eggs, milk, sugar,
vanilla—that wholesome all-American stuff—and baked it in the pie crust.”

“Then that’s not a pie,” Liza said. “It’s a cake. You’re disqualified.”

“Yours isn’t a pie, either. It’s ice cream.” Cole grinned. They sounded like five-year-olds.
“We’ve got a double disqualification, or we keep this match alive.”

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” one of the bloggers called out—the one Cole would’ve least
expected to join in. The guy had always been kind of quiet and serious behind his
rimless glasses and side-parted hair. Everyone but Liza joined in the chant, clapping
in rhythm.

She shook her head after the noise died down, an exasperated smile on her face. “Go
on. Finish telling us about your cake-pie.”

“So then I added a layer of chocolate mousse—”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Liza said. “It’s a mousse-cake-pie?”

“And yours is an ice-cream-cookie-brownie-pie.”

Standing between them, Paige shrugged. “I couldn’t have scripted this any better.”
She put her hand on Liza’s shoulder. “Can Cole finish now?”

“Yes.” Liza gave him a flirty, knowing look, as if it was inevitable she would lose
and he’d be kissing her soon.

Happily distracted by the idea, he scrambled to get himself back in the game. “On
top of the mousse is a layer of whipped cream, which made a nice white background
for the star in the center—fresh raspberries edged with a double line of fresh blueberries.
My round, Sugar Sheet red-on-white curly W logo is stuck on a pick in the middle,
marking this as the official mousse-cake-pie of the Washington Nationals.”

The group applauded, and Cole nodded appreciatively. “Wait till you taste it.” He
grinned. “I won’t mind if you call me Paula Deen.”

Paige raised a shiny silver pie server in front of her. “Judges, those are our contenders.
Now it’s time to eat some pie and pick a winner.”

…

Liza tasted both pies, sure that hers would be ten times better than Cole’s. But it
wasn’t. Hers was simple goodness, and she’d have been proud to take it to a potluck.
But Cole’s was incredible, with its layers of pound cake, chocolate mousse, and whipped
cream. Add the graham
cracker crust and berries, and his was a grand slam.

Across the room, Cole chatted with Mack and Brenda, looking relaxed and heart-stoppingly
hot, all broad-shouldered and blond. Liza might as well be sixteen again. Sometimes
she forgot to breathe when she looked at him.

Could she really date Cole for two months and not fall for him? He had everything
any girl could want, and he could bake, too. Even so, there was no way she was going
to vote for his Nationals pie-cake-mousse-cobbler-whatever. She voted for her Orioles
pie.
Go Birds!

“The votes have been counted,” Paige announced, “and I’ve saved them in case of a
lawsuit.” She grinned. “Ladies and gentlemen, the smackdown goes to Cole’s Nationals
pie.”

Everyone clapped, and Frank chanted, “Paula Deen, Paula Deen.”

Cole grabbed the sides of his apron and did a mock curtsy that had the bloggers clambering
for their cameras.

“Was it close?” Liza asked.

Paige grimaced. “Um, ten to one.”

“Ten to one?” Liza shot an incredulous look at her mom and dad. “Even my own parents
didn’t vote for my Orioles pie?” She smiled and shook her head. “What gives? You guys
are co-owners of the team.”

“Never let it be said that I don’t play fair.” Her dad slung his arm around her and
out of the corner of her eye, she saw a hitch in Cole’s expression. But when she looked
at him square on, it was gone.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Her dad patted his stomach. “But that Nationals pie deserved
a division title.”

“Thanks,” Cole said, but didn’t look at her dad. He swept his gaze over everyone gathered
at the tables. “I was thinking more World Series.”

The contest had distracted Liza, but now that it was over, she couldn’t think about
anything but the kiss she owed Cole.

Her stomach churned. She’d had too much pie, but that wasn’t why. The crazy thing
was that she
wanted
to kiss him. The battle between guilt and excitement had her torn up inside. Guilt
over Wes…guilt over her deal with Frank. And how could she not fall for Cole if he
was going to be kissing her and making his All-Star moves? She should’ve thought a
lot further ahead than she had, but she’d been focused on everything BADD could do
with Frank’s donation. She pinched her eyes closed for a moment. This was her fault.
She’d agreed to Frank’s terms, and she’d challenged Cole to the bet to begin with.

Liza stepped next to Cole, figuring a coy way to pay up. She stood on her tiptoes
and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He smelled like cake, with a tinge of that blue-scented
cologne. “Congratulations,” she said, loudly enough for others to hear, then whispered
in his ear, “You won the bet—that was your kiss.”

He casually skimmed his fingers across her lower back and clutched her waist, pulling
her close. “There’s no chance you’re gonna get away with that.” His voice was as rich
as warm honey and nearly twice as sweet. He gave her a slow-and-easy smile with that
perfect mouth, and a flurry of tingles swirled through her. “The bet was that
I
get to kiss
you
.”

Liza’s heart did a backflip.

They said good-bye to everyone and insisted on helping Paige clean up. She and Liza
headed to the kitchen while Cole stayed out front and put the tables and chairs back
in place.

“You could’ve hooked me up with a better recipe,” she teased Paige as she wiped the
tops of the stainless steel tables in the kitchen. She and Cole had made a mess of
the place.

“Yours was scrumptious.” Paige ran steaming water into one of the deep sinks, and
frothy bubbles rose between the dirty bowls and pans, stacked several high. “And using
orange and black was a challenge.”

“Remind me to pick my next favorite team based on their colors.” Liza joined Paige
at the sink and started rinsing the freshly scrubbed pans Paige handed her.

“My heart was on your side.” Paige raised her eyebrows suggestively. “But other parts
of me were rooting for Cole.”

“I know what you mean.”

Paige nudged Liza’s shoulder. “I say go for it.”

“This is only our second date.”
And it isn’t what it looks like. It’s all part of a slimy scheme to help me meet my
fund-raising goals.
Liza was thankful Paige wasn’t watching her closely. She had an uncanny ability to
read Liza’s mind.

“So what? You’ve known the guy since you were sixteen, and crushed on him for years.”

Liza shook her head. “You’re hopeless.”

“Come on. Your friends and family approve—that’s pretty obvious. You can’t tell me
it hasn’t crossed your mind.”

“I just don’t want to make a mistake.” She tipped her head toward the front of the
bakery where Cole was finishing moving the tables and chairs. “He’s dated so many
women—I mean, Victoria’s-Secret-model kind of women. Now he wants
me
?”

Paige lifted her hand out of the water and flipped it dismissively. Soapsuds splattered
against the backsplash. “You’ve got way more going on than any airhead angel model.
Cole’s smart enough to see that. And he’s with you, isn’t he? Jeez—he freakin’
proposed
to you.”