Sweet Surrender Page 4

  “Your sister’s got a good idea, boyo. Maybe then you’d find the stones to ask the pretty lady out. In my day, we saw a girl we liked and—”

  “Go haunt someone else, old man.”

  “Ian!”

  “What? Did you hear what he said?”

  “No,” Shay said. “But still, he’s your granddad, and you shouldn’t talk to him like that.”

  “Yeah, listen to your sister. Don’t know why the gift of hearing me is wasted on the likes of you in the first place. It’s not like you’ve ever listened and done a damn thing I’ve told you to do your entire life,” O’Malley grumbled.

  “You mean like when you told me snapping turtles really don’t snap?”

  “Thought you knew better.”

  Shay giggled. “Pretty sure I heard that answer. Something about knowing better, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Didn’t I help with that cute redhead when you were ten?” O’Malley asked.

  “She punched me in the face when I tried to kiss her, Gramps.”

  “You can’t blame me if your technique was poor.” The ghost faded and left him with his sister grinning from ear to ear.

  “Why were you talking about April from summer camp?” Shay asked. “As far as I know, she’s the only woman who ever hit you.”

  “Reminding Gramps how bad his advice is.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. He was all for me and Colin and look how that turned out.”

  Shay looked to where Gram was instructing the poor guy on how to run the grill. Flames were shooting up in the air, threatening to lick the branches hanging overhead, yet Colin kept his calm, smiled and slyly turned down the burner, all the while listening to their grandmother yammer away.

  “He’s a good guy. You should keep him, but that doesn’t mean I need to listen to Gramps. I’ve got a business to run—”

  “Speaking of, I have something for you, but hang on.” Shay jumped up, ran across the patio to dig into her purse, then kiss Colin before return to her chair. She held up a business card. “Ta-da!”

  “What’s this?” Ian took the card. Ian Browning, Junonia, Casa Blanca Resort and Spa, Head Chef.

  “Chef Ian, not to be confused with you, Baker Ian, would like you to give him a call to talk about a potential relationship between The Sweet Spot and Junonia for providing desserts and possibly adding fresh-baked breads to the daily order. I might have bragged about some of your skills. You are adding artisan bread to the bakery menu, right?”

  “I don’t know, Shay. This humidity…”

  “But Grammy said you were going to make hot cross buns.”

  Ian sighed and laughed. “Tell me again why I wanted to live near family?”

  “Because sooner, rather than later, I’m going to be dead and then what are you going to do?” Gram put a plate of charcoal-crisped chicken on the picnic table and waved them over.

  “Siobhan, are you okay?” Colin asked as both Ian and Shay froze at her words.

  Gram patted his hand and sat down. “I’m fine, dear. Now sit. Eat, everyone.”

  Ian and Shay looked at each other, shrugged and sat down. They didn’t know what else to do. When the time came, and while neither wanted to acknowledge that sooner or later it would, it didn’t mean she would actually be gone. They already had one deceased grandparent hanging around. What was one more?

  The group ate quietly for a few minutes. “Nobody answered my question. What are you going to do when I’m gone?”

  “Charge double at Halloween for the haunted house tour?” Ian suggested as he piled food onto his plate.

  “Think again. O’Malley and I made a pact. Once I cross from this plane to the next, we’re going to travel the world. It was something we’d planned to do years ago before he died. And, then once we’ve seen everywhere on our list, we’ll say one final goodbye and cross over to what lies beyond together. You kids don’t need me anymore, so there’s no point in sticking around.”

  “Grammy!” Shay cried out.

  “Gram, that’s not true.” Ian put his buttered corn on the cob down. What the hell? Since when had his grandmother turned into some doom-and-gloom, I’m-ready-to-die person? She’d always been full of life, and energy, positive to a fault.

  Colin had sat quietly watching the exchange between the three of them. Not that Ian blamed the guy.

  “Oh both of you untwist your knickers. I’m not going to off myself one night at bedtime. Lordy, I’m not in a hurry. Just saying, I have a plan. As much as Colin here would love for me to stick around and help him communicate with other lost souls, given as how O’Malley refuses, I just have no interest.”

  “It’s okay. O’Malley is enough proof for me that ghosts exists,” Colin said. “It’d be nice to catch him on the recorder, though.”

  “Catch me? Makes it sound like I’m a damn leprechaun.”

  Ian busted out laughing, while Gram laughed behind her hand. Shay looked back and forth, her mouth hanging ajar.

  Colin hung his head over his plate. “My apologies, O’Malley.”

  “You heard him?” Shay asked.

  “Just damn leprechaun. I figured out the rest.”

  “There’s hope for the boyo yet, Siobhan. Maybe he really is worthy of our Shay after all.” With that the feisty spirit vanished.

  “He’s gone, dears. You can finish your lunch,” Gram said. “Now Ian, I want to hear how everything is coming along with the bakery and then you can tell me why you haven’t asked out that nice Caty Kennedy yet.”

  Ian groaned.

  Shay and Colin laughed, probably because they knew from personal experience how relentless his grandmother could be. It was days like this that made him wonder how he’d ever thought moving to Mimosa Key would be relaxing.

  “Et tu, Gram?”

  Chapter Four

  Caty was bopping along to a song on the radio, singing her heart out in her car as she cruised down Center Street. Her mood was as bright as the Florida afternoon sun. She’d officially been in business for twelve days, but who was counting? She was, that’s who.

  Charity Grambling still darkened her doorstep every morning. But hey, it was a standing order and the witch had stopped her grumbling. Thank goodness! And she’d scored a contract with Frankie Cardinale Becker who ran La Dolce Vita.

  CatyCakes would be the sole supplier for all birthday parties held at the Barefoot Bay Bucks stadium’s goat farm and tourist center. Both Mandy and Frankie, who were married to two of the three major owners, had promised that when the time came they’d back her pitch for the stadium contract too. It would take time, but she was on her way to seeing her dream come true.

  Baby steps. A birthday cake here. An anniversary cake there. Even supplying the daily muffins to the Super Min helped get her name out to the residents of the small island. Now she had the La Dolce Vita contract. It was all slowly coming together. Since the stadium wasn’t ready for her and Ian had the wedding business, she needed to think of where else on the island she could tap. Maybe I could supply the Twisted Pelican and Junonia. That’d free up Chef Ian and Law for the actual cooking?

  It wasn’t a bad idea. Both were top-notch chefs and it wasn’t like they couldn’t make their own desserts, but she knew it wasn’t their area of expertise. But it was hers. After she dropped off the batch of birthday cupcakes to La Dolce Vita, she’d make a stop at the Pelican and pitch the idea to Law. He’d be the easiest to approach because like her, Law was a Mimosa native who had moved away and then come back.

  She’d have to do a little research on Chef Browning and Junonia before making her pitch there. It might even make sense to start with a more sympathetic ear in Lacey Walker, the resort owner. She’d touch base with Mandy and then make a plan. Beyond those two places, there weren’t any other real restaurants on Mimosa Key. She didn’t count Miss Icey’s, the ice cream parlor, or the SOB, which didn’t even have a sign or a menu, but had damn good tacos.

  And there were a few prospects in Naples, refer
rals from friends, that she needed to set up appointments with. Realistically, to get to the level she envisioned, she’d need to bring on more help than a part-time, unpaid intern. Sadly, to do so, she needed more cash flowing into the bank. Hmm, really I’d need at least two more people. Maybe I could bring in a person on part-time basis in the evening to start…

  A loud thunk brought Caty out of her head and back to reality as she slammed on the brakes and looked up into the glaring eyes of Ian O’Malley.

  A quick glance around confirmed everyone on the street was staring at her. Great. Not the kind of PR she needed. Caty took a deep breath and let it out as she put the car in park and turned off the ignition. She slipped out of the car and quietly closed the car.

  “Um, are you okay, Ian?”

  He rocked back on his heels and for a moment, Caty thought he was going to teeter over. “Trying to off the competition, Kennedy?”

  “What?” She gasped. “Oh, God. No. Honestly, Ian, I didn’t see you. Are you hurt? I can take you to the doctor.” Her head swirled with all the complications. Sheriff Garrison would have to be called. Crap! Just what she didn’t need—a ticket. Her insurance was going to skyrocket. Would she get hauled to jail? With her luck and Ian’s accusation, she’d probably be charged with attempted murder. If she were in jail how would she get her cupcakes to the birthday party?

  “My cupcakes!”

  “Relax, Sunshine. I’m okay, but barely.”

  Caty spun around and ran for the back door of her car, flung the door open and cried. The trays had come loose and slammed into the back seat before falling into the footwell.

  She clasped her hand over her mouth. “Fuckityfudgebuckets.”

  “What?” Ian stood next to her, looking down. “I don’t think we can say the same for your cupcakes. They look like they died a terrible and painful death.”

  “Ian, this isn’t funny. I was on my way to a ten-year-old’s birthday party. Now what am I going to do? I don’t have time to go all the way home and back another batch.”

  She looked up at him. Everything had been going so well, until he’d come along, both the first time and this time. He was like her bad luck charm, her Achilles’ heel.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have a large sheet cake or three dozen chocolate cupcakes would you, Doughboy?”

  Ian scratched at his jaw line and looked at the mess in her back seat. “No, but I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you pull around to the back of The Sweet Spot? Slowly and carefully. We wouldn’t want you taking out Mr. Wigglesworth before his time.”

  Caty smiled and waved to the elderly man getting ready to cross the street in front of her. “Clearly he wasn’t your high school principal. Just kidding,” she said when he gave a look that said he thought she was nuts.

  For the short two-minute drive down Center Street and to the back of the bakery, Caty kept her full focus on the road and not the mess in her back seat, the mess her life was suddenly slipping back into, or the man who made her insides a serious mess.

  Together, she and Ian carefully slid the trays out with the crushed cakes and carried them inside the bakery and set them on the work counters. She didn’t worry about cleaning up the inside of her car, even though the hot June sun was going to bake that stuff into her carpet from now until eternity.

  “So what’s your plan?” she asked.

  “You said ten-year-old boys, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Cool. Then we turn this mess into one giant pan of dirt cake. We can take the cake that’s left, crumble it for one layer. Use cookies for another. Pudding, whipped cream, and I even have some gummi worms in the pantry.”

  “You stock gummi worms?”

  “They were for me. You have no idea what it took to get those since I’m persona non grata at the Super Min. But given this is an emergency, I’ll lend them to the cause.”

  Of all the things to be his guilty pleasure. This man, who baked for the rich and famous, and had won the respect of top bakers, had a weakness for such a simple treat. His eyes dared her to say something about it, to make a big deal, but the twist of his lips said he didn’t care. It was…kind of cute, endearing even. It made her wonder who Ian O’Malley really was.

  But they were competitors. She couldn’t forget that fact. Every customer that walked in his door was one less for her. But that didn’t mean they were out to cut each other’s throats. She probably should listen to Mandy and not be so nice, but she couldn’t help it. And Ian stepping up and offering to help her, to save her order, gave her hope for too many reasons to think about right then.

  “Thank you, Ian.” She looked around the bakery, not sure where to start or how they’d pull this off in the limited amount of time they had until the party started.

  Ian disappeared into a pantry and reappeared with his arms full: the prized gummi worms, store-bought sandwich cookies, and instant pudding mix. Caty looked down, then back up at him, and then around the bakery. Was this really what he used to make his desserts that had the town raving?

  “Don’t judge.” Ian set the packages down and opened the fridge. “I was a Boy Scout. Better to be prepared than caught with your pants down.”

  Her gaze automatically lowered, she couldn’t help it. Admittedly, she wouldn’t mind catching Ian with his pants down or off, especially if his attention was on her. She found she wouldn’t mind a lot when it came to Ian. She blamed it on those killer baby blues of his, and that smile with the ridiculous dimple on just the right side.

  “Trust me, I wasn’t judging your skills in the kitchen.” Nope, her mind had been in a totally different room.

  Ian laughed, as if he didn’t believe her, but set out the rest of the ingredients and equipment. He held up a rolling pin in one hand and pointed to the mixer with the other.

  “How frustrated are you feeling?”

  More than either of those two items could satisfy. “I’ll take the pudding.”

  “Really?” He cocked his head and twitched his lips. “I thought the rolling pin would win.”

  She dumped the boxes of chocolate pudding mix into the bowl, then measured out the milk. “Actually, until that little mishap out there, my week had been going exceedingly well.”

  As the mixer whirled and Ian whacked, crushing the cookies, the two of them worked in silence. “The pudding will need a few minutes to set,” she said.

  Ian took the bowl from her and placed it into the fridge, and handed her a chilled bottle of water. He sprinkled the crushed cookies over the bottom of the sheet pan and tore open the bag of worms, waving her off when she went to help.

  “Ian, this is my order.”

  “My kitchen.”

  She nodded in agreement and, because she didn’t feel like arguing she wandered around while he worked, tearing off the cupcake wrappers and scraping off the frosting. The kitchen was a dream come true, shiny, clean stainless steel appliances, with large workspaces, commercial-grade ovens, cooling racks, and shelves and shelves of baking pans and supplies.

  Her kitchen was nice, but this was like her place on steroids and a dream.

  She leaned against the counter next to Ian watching him work on her order. Within minutes he had all the cupcakes denuded of their wraps and toppings. As he went he crumbled the cakes into a bowl to have ready after they layered in the pudding “mud.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  His hands stilled for a second. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  She knew this technique, answer a question with a question. It was her dad’s favorite, a way to get her to spill what was on her mind. Fine, she’d play along.

  “Because there’s nothing in it for you. You lose…time that you could have been doing your own thing and a customer.”

  He popped a piece of the crumbled cake into his mouth and smiled. “That’s good and you’re wrong. Doing something nice for someone else doesn’t need a reward, but I get to spend time with you. See I win.”

  Bull’s-eye.


  His words went straight to her heart, because what woman would be immune to that kind of sweet-talking? And while one part of her brain was screaming to stay clear of Ian O’Malley, that now was not the time for a relationship, not even a fun summer fling, she didn’t care. He was nice, and easy to talk to and he understood her love for baking. Plus, he sent her blood racing and didn’t she deserve a little fun?

  “So dirt cake? Was that the secret to your success in Hollywood?”

  “Hey, do not underestimate the power of dirt and little kids. Even the rich ones like to play in the mud. But really, it’s the hidden surprises the kids like best. Worms, frogs. Heck, I had a mom who wanted us to bake a diamond cake once for her daughter’s sweet sixteen.”

  “Wait. Do you mean bake real diamonds into the cake?” She turned to face him.

  “Yep. They weren’t huge by Rodeo Drive standards. About a quarter of an inch diameter each, but that’s still small enough to lose in a cake and swallow. For some reason the mom couldn’t understand why that would be a problem.”

  Wow, for her sixteenth birthday her parents had bought her a cell phone. “What did you end up doing?” Caty walked over to the fridge and pulled out the bowl of pudding and began layering it on top of the cookies.

  Ian pushed the worms into the pudding with a wooden chopstick. “We used candles to spell out HAPPY and the diamonds for 16. The daughter was thrilled. The friends were impressed. The other moms complimented the client for her cleverness, and she pretended like it was all her idea.”

  Together they sprinkled the crumbled cupcake over the top of the pudding and worms. “Did that happen a lot? Over-the-top clients with ridiculous requests? Is that why you left?”

  “Enough that it got old, but no. I moved here for my family.”

  The hesitation made her wonder. What was Ian holding back? He may have moved to Mimosa because of family, but it wasn’t why he left California. She didn’t press. Everyone was allowed their secrets. She knew that better than most.

  “This looks good, but it needs something. Do you happen to have any shaved coconut and green food coloring? Just a little. Then maybe we could have a worm or two surface? What do you think?”