Caramel Crush Page 2

  “Puleeze,” Olivia sniped. “Where would you go? Who is going to take in a man who thinks the floor is a laundry basket, snores like a donkey, and never cleans the bathroom?”

  “Says the woman who can’t leave a dirty dish in the sink, thinks washing windows is a daily chore, and who writes her name on every single edible item in the fridge,” Marty retaliated.

  Mel met Angie’s gaze over the counter. Marty had moved in with Olivia, at her request, just a few months ago. It appeared the honeymoon phase of their live-in period was dusted and done.

  “You’re impossible,” Olivia snapped.

  “No, you are,” Marty said.

  Mel looked at him. As far as comebacks went, that one was pretty lame. He shrugged and turned his back on her.

  “Give me until the end of tomorrow, and me and my stuff will just be a fuzzy memory,” he said to Olivia.

  “Yeah, fuzzy because it’s growing mold on it like everything else you leave on the counter,” she said.

  “That’s it!” Marty said. “We’re done here.”

  “We’re not done until I say we’re done,” Olivia argued.

  “Too late,” Marty said. “Done.”

  With that, he strode through the kitchen door, leaving it swinging in his wake.

  “Hey!” Olivia shouted. “I’m not done with you yet.”

  She charged behind the counter and followed Marty into the kitchen, where a clang of pots and pans sounded with a bang and a crash. Mel looked at Angie and Tate in alarm.

  “What do we do?” she cried.

  “Uh . . . nothing?” Tate said.

  Crash!

  “But my kitchen,” Mel said.

  She twisted her apron in her hands. More ominous noise came from the kitchen but it did not sound like any more pots and pans were being tossed about.

  “Will survive,” Tate said. “But you’ll never be able to unsee whatever you walk into behind that door.”

  “I’m with honey badger on this one,” Angie said.

  “Honey badger?” Tate asked her.

  “It’s cute,” she said.

  “If you say so,” he said. “I think I’m partial to honey bear.”

  “How about honeybee?” Angie offered.

  Mel blew out a breath. She wasn’t sure what was worse, the couple in front of her canoodling or the couple behind her brawling. Either way, she wondered if it was too early in the day, at ten o’clock in the morning, to require an espresso-infused cupcake or two.

  The door to the bakery banged open again, but this time a tall, thin woman in a snappy aqua skirt and suit jacket paired with beige sandals and a matching purse strode into the room looking like she was on a mission. She scanned the room and then her deep brown gaze landed on Mel like a laser beam on lock.

  A man, also in a suit, came in behind her and Mel had a moment of panic. Was this another couple? Were they looking to book a wedding? Were they going to be fussing or fighting or goopy in love? She genuinely didn’t think she could take much more coupleness, no matter how well it paid.

  “Melanie Cooper,” the woman said. Obviously, she knew Mel from somewhere. “You’re just the woman I need. Lucky for me, you owe me one, don’t you?”

  Two

  It took Mel a second to remember the voice. It was sharp, direct, and took no prisoners. She knew that voice. She glanced back at the woman’s face. A thick blond bob framed a heart-shaped face with an upturned nose and full lips. Could it be? Diane Earnest? Her old roommate? The woman strode forward and it was the walk that clinched it. Despite the heels, she moved with a familiar bow-legged stomp, not unlike a dinosaur, that always made Mel think there would be cracks in the flooring upon her departure.

  “Diane,” she said. “Is it really you?”

  “In the flesh!” Diane answered with a toss of her bob. She enfolded Mel in a perfumed hug, the scent of which lingered long after Diane let her go. “How are you, roomie?”

  Mel stared at the woman who had been her college roommate during her first two years at UCLA. Diane Earnest had looked amazing then and she looked equally so now. Blond, tan, well muscled, and in her perfectly fitted suit, she looked the very essence of the successful marketing executive that she was.

  It slapped Mel upside the head. This was what she had studied in college. This was what she’d thought her life would be. Power clothes, power cars, power meals, making and breaking products and companies as they came to market. Diane looked as if the life suited her. She positively crackled with energy as she took in Mel’s humble bakery. It was all Mel could do to keep from throwing her arms wide and protecting her pretty little retro shop from Diane’s hard, assessing gaze.

  “I heard you’re franchising,” Diane said. “I can see that working for you.”

  “You can?” Mel squeaked. Her voice came out more hopeful than she would have liked. Darn it! She cleared her throat and consciously lowered her voice. “Yeah, it’s overdue.”

  One of Diane’s eyebrows rose and a small smile played on her lips as if Mel hadn’t fooled her at all.

  The tall man in the suit who had followed Diane into the bakery stepped forward. He wore the jacket and slacks well but there was an aura of nerd about him, obvious in the wrinkled necktie, unkempt thinning brown hair, and dark-rimmed glasses, that the pale gray suit couldn’t quite hide.

  “Elliott,” Diane said. “I want you to meet one of my friends from my college years. Melanie Cooper, Elliott Peters.”

  Mel held out her hand to shake his. His palm was a bit sweaty but given that it was June in Arizona and the temperature outside was already in the nineties, she couldn’t really fault him for that.

  “Nice to meet you, Elliott,” Mel said. “Diane, I think you met my friends, Tate Harper and Angie DeLaura, back in the day? They are my business partners in the bakery.”

  Tate and Angie stepped forward and exchanged greetings with Diane and Elliott. Diane smiled warmly at them.

  “Of course I remember,” Diane said. She gave Tate a flirty look. It was clear to Mel that she was speaking to Tate and not Angie.

  “So, did you two ever . . . ?” Diane let the question dangle as she glanced between Tate and Mel.

  “No!” Mel and Tate both answered at once. It was hard to say who looked more panicked at the thought. It had taken Mel years to convince Angie that Tate was like a brother to her. She couldn’t have Diane undo all of that in one short visit.

  “Too bad,” Diane said. “I really thought you two would make an adorable couple.”

  Mel glanced at Angie out of the corner of her eye. Judging by the flat stare in Angie’s usually warm brown eyes, she was moments away from schooling Diane in some manners, whether Diane wanted her to or not.

  “Actually, Tate and Angie are getting married,” Mel said. “In just a few months.”

  “Really?” Diane looked at Angie as if reconsidering her. She looked her up and down, clearly unimpressed by Angie’s jeans and T-shirt. “How’d you manage to bag him?”

  Angie was short and curvy, with a head of thick dark curls and a very pretty face. Her pretty girl-next-door looks frequently caused people, usually other women, to underestimate her potential. It was a mistake they seldom made twice.

  “I didn’t bag him, he bagged me,” Angie said. “If you’ll excuse us, we’re off to pick out our wedding flowers.”

  She hooked her hand through Tate’s arm and yanked him out the door. Obviously, Sara the florist could not be kept waiting a moment longer.

  “She’s feisty,” Diane said. “I like that.”

  “That’s one word for it,” Mel agreed.

  She paused to listen for any noise coming from the kitchen. There was no more clattering or banging so she could only hope that Marty and Olivia were now having a calm reasonable discussion or maybe they were making up. She wrinkled her nose. She did not
want to picture that in her head. Too late. Ugh!

  “Can I get you anything?” Mel asked. “The special today is chocolate cupcakes with peanut-butter frosting. It’s a real crowd pleaser.”

  “No, not for me, thanks,” Diane said. “I do have a favor to ask you, however.”

  Maybe it was the way she said it, or perhaps it was Mel’s latent survival instincts kicking in—then again, it could just be that Mel had seen Diane in action and she knew, as the hair rose on the back of her neck, that whatever Diane was going to ask her was not going to make her happy. Not even a little.

  Mel forced her lips to defy their inclination to turn down and instead she forced them to curve up. She knew the smile didn’t reach her eyes; heck, the corners of her lips didn’t even reach her nose. Still, it was a valiant attempt to mask the fear that was now coursing through her system.

  “Why don’t we sit,” Mel said. She glanced at Elliott. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Do you have any gluten- and lactose-free cupcakes?” he asked.

  Mel glanced at the display case. Separated from the other cakes were her specialty cakes for those with specific dietary needs. She knew they were low on the vanilla, but there were several freshly made chocolate cupcakes. Oscar Ruiz, her assistant chef who went by the name Oz, had created the recipe himself when he discovered his little brother suffered food allergies.

  “How do you feel about chocolate?” she asked.

  “I like chocolate,” Elliott said.

  “I’ll be right back then,” Mel said.

  Diane led the way to a booth in the far corner. She slid into one side and Elliott slid in after her. They had their heads pressed together as they shared a whispered conversation. Mel hadn’t gotten a romantic vibe off of them, but as she plated Elliott’s cupcake, she noticed that he watched Diane with a look on his face that reminded her of a puppy looking for a belly rub.

  Oh, boy, she felt for the guy. From what she remembered about the years she cohabited with Diane, the woman had a habit of chewing men up and spitting them out. Dating wasn’t a random event for Diane. She treated it like she treated everything else in her life. It was a competition.

  If Diane was going to give a man the time of day, he was at the top of his class; he was handsome with a side of hot; he had to dress well, drive a nice car, and be able to take her out in the style to which she planned to become accustomed. He had to be the best boyfriend, trumping any other woman’s man with his wit, wisdom, and wealth.

  There were no late nights spent watching bad TV and eating pizza right out of the box in Diane’s world. They had been living in Los Angeles and if she was going to spend time with a man, he was going to take her out where she could see and be seen.

  Mel remembered feeling in awe of her roommate. She had never met anyone so self-directed. It had been enlightening as much as it had been horrifying. On the one hand, Diane knew what she wanted and she didn’t take no for an answer. On the other hand, her life hadn’t seemed to be very much fun to Mel. There was no room for spontaneity or silliness, which were qualities she treasured in Tate and Angie.

  She put the cupcake plate on a tray and grabbed a clean fork from the service station. It was mid-morning and other than a few orders that had been picked up, the bakery was quiet. Mel knew that she only had about fifteen minutes until the morning lull was over and the pre-lunch crowd started the steady stream of business that would continue on until they closed at eight o’clock tonight.

  She put the cupcake down in front of Elliott and then slid into the booth on the opposite side of Diane. Elliott took the fork she had handed him and jabbed at the cupcake as if he was afraid it might bite back.

  “Are you sure it’s gluten-free?” he asked.

  “Positive,” Mel said.

  “And no dairy or eggs?”

  “None of that, either,” Mel said. “We use baking soda and apple cider vinegar to make it rise. Also, unsweetened cocoa, not the Dutch processed, is acidic and will act as a leavening agent with the baking soda, so you get a nice fluffy cake.”

  “Vinegar?” Elliott frowned and his glasses slid down his nose. “What about the frosting? That looks like a buttercream and butter is dairy.”

  Mel swallowed her sigh. She was itching to find out what Diane wanted but Elliott was clearly untrustworthy of her gluten-dairy-egg-free chocolate cupcake so she needed to put his mind at ease first.

  “We use non-dairy spread and coconut milk,” she said. “Can you eat those?”

  Elliott nodded. He peeled the wrapper off of the cupcake and then slid the fork into the frosting, getting a well-balanced bite of cake and frosting on his fork. He held the fork up to eye level and examined the bite. Mel wondered what he was looking for. She glanced at Diane, who was watching Elliott with an annoyed expression on her face.

  “Oh, enough already,” Diane said.

  She took the fork out of Elliott’s hand and ate the bite herself. As she chewed her irritated expression changed into one of pleasure. Mel smiled. A good cupcake will do that for you.

  “This is amazing,” Diane said. “You can’t even tell that there’s none of the bad stuff in it.”

  “Really?” Elliott asked. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” Diane handed him his fork. “Enjoy.”

  Elliott tucked into the cupcake like a kid finding a candy stash in his sibling’s room.

  Diane turned to Mel. She reached across the table and took Mel’s hands in hers.

  “So,” she said.

  “So,” Mel echoed her.

  She studied Diane’s face. She was smiling, her unnaturally white teeth practically glowing under the shop’s fluorescent lighting.

  “Tell me if I’m crazy, but I get the feeling this is more than just a social call.”

  “You always were so smart,” Diane said. “Top of our class on every project.”

  This had actually been a sticking point between them for several semesters, until Diane had scored a coveted internship in New York and had left school for a semester. Mel had taken the opportunity to move off campus and they hadn’t roomed together again.

  Mel pulled her hands back and folded them in her lap. She knew she wouldn’t be able to nudge the purpose of her visit out of Diane until she was good and ready. She had been like this in college, too. There was nothing Diane liked as well as a dramatic entrance or a dramatic pause.

  “Now, you know I run my own very profitable marketing company,” Diane said. Mel nodded. “Well, I fell in love with one of my clients, Mike Bordow. His family owns Party On!, the party supply company.”

  “Oh, how ni—” Mel began, but Diane cut her off.

  “No, not nice,” Diane said. “Turns out, he was a rather poor ROI, in fact.”

  “ROI?” Mel asked.

  “Return on investment,” Diane said.

  “Ah.” Mel nodded.

  She’d forgotten how much Diane loved her acronyms, also how she viewed relationships as more of a business concept than an emotional connection.

  “He was perfect,” Diane said. “Gorgeous, rich, successful, well connected; he had it all.”

  “Had?” Mel asked. The way Diane was talking she wondered if the poor guy had died.

  Diane pursed her lips. “Yes, well, I recently discovered, he wasn’t quite as wealthy as he led me to believe.”

  “Oh,” Mel said. She knew her old roommate well enough to know that money, or the lack thereof, would be a deal breaker.

  “Which is why I am here,” Diane said. “You know how I hate to be played for a fool.”

  Mel nodded. She did indeed.

  “Well, it occurred to me that I need a unique way to get my message across about our engagement—” Diane said.

  “Engagement?” Mel cried. “You’re getting married?”

  “Were,” Diane said. “We
were getting married. Were being the operative word here. So, I want you to bake me some cupcakes.”

  “For the wedding that isn’t going to happen?” Mel asked.

  “No, to break up with the big jerk,” Diane said. “What I need you to do, Mel, is bake me the freshest, tastiest, most wonderful cupcakes ever.”

  “Because you’re dumping your fiancé?” Mel asked. She didn’t want to appear dense but usually people didn’t hire her to put this much effort into cutting loose their significant other.

  “That’s right,” Diane said. “After all, nothing says We’re through quite like a yummy cupcake that says, It’s not me, it’s you.”

  Three

  “I can honestly say this is a first,” Mel said. “I’ve baked some specialty cupcakes, sure, but breakup cupcakes to end an engagement, that’s new.”

  Diane smiled while Elliott finished his cupcake. He even scraped the plate with his fork, which Mel took as high praise.

  “I’d like you to deliver them tomorrow morning,” Diane said. “He’s usually at home or at his country club until ten as he likes to work out first thing in the morning, and the club has an amazing gym. I’m going to miss it.”

  “You don’t need to work out,” Elliott said. “You look amazing.”

  Diane smiled at him and Mel wondered if she had any idea that the man was besotted with her. Mel was betting she didn’t. Elliott didn’t fit the profile of what Diane envisioned for a life partner and therefore he was just an employee, or perhaps a lackey, in her world. It was too bad. Despite his many dietary issues, Elliott seemed like a nice guy and it had been Mel’s experience that there was a serious lack of nice guys on the planet.

  “All right,” Mel said. “I can have Oz, my assistant, drop off the cupcakes on his way to class.”

  “No, it has to be you,” Diane said.

  “What?” Mel asked. “Why?”

  “Because I want you to call me and give me a blow-by-blow description of his reaction,” Diane said. “Film it with your phone if you can manage it.”