Back for Seconds (6 page)

“Where do you think they’re going this weekend? That’s all he could talk about at the office apparently. Bought a new boat and everything.”

Joely’s stomach dropped all the way to her feet. No wonder he got all dodgy when she asked him where he was staying.

That sonofabitch. Not only did he plan to take their kids out of town without asking her, he was going to introduce them to his fling. Of all the irresponsible…

“Joely,” a male voice said from over her shoulder.

She turned to find herself staring up at Xander, who leaned against the tall booth where she sat with her friend.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he grinned as he scoped her over, taking in her transformation.

“Ditto,” she muttered before she turned to Novanna. “Novanna, this is Xander Davy. He’s the new manager for Lillian’s Place.”

Novanna smiled wide as she stared up at the handsome man. “Pleasure is all mine. Would you like to join us?” she asked, deliberately ignoring her best friend’s panicked look.

“I’d love to,” he said as he sat, which scooted Joely closer to Novanna. She could feel the heat from his body as that familiar cologne charged right up her nose and pierced her brain with his undeniable masculinity. Joely bowed her head and concentrated on her drink, which forced Novanna to carry the conversation.

“Love the accent,” she said. “Where are you from?”

“I was born in Manchester but raised in London,” he answered. “Went to school there for a few years and have been traveling the world ever since.”

She chuckled. “And those exotic world travels brought you all the way to Abilene, Texas, did they?”

He wore a big smile. “Ah, but I love it here. I grew up fascinated with cowboys and horses and duels at twenty paces. There’s a real pioneer spirit here.”

“I’m from Houston,” she said. “And I miss it every day. I don’t know how you stand it, honestly.”

He gave Joely a sideways grin. “It’s not so bad. The scenery’s definitely improved.”

Novanna arched one eyebrow. “So how did you get in the door, anyway?” she asked as she surveyed him shamelessly. “I can’t believe that you saw one day of the 80s.”

He laughed, a warm rich sound that vibrated across Joely’s tightly drawn nerves. “I saw a few, yeah. Not that I remember them though. I was born in 1988.”

Joely, who had been sipping her drink almost nonstop through the straw, sputtered and choked on the libation as she did the math in her head. “You all right?” he asked.

“You’re twenty-six?” she countered.

“Till October, yeah. Is that a problem?”

She stared at him open-mouthed. It made all his silly flirtatious behavior even more ridiculous.

“Forgive her,” Novanna said as she leaned across the table towards him. “She never could hold her liquor. I remember this one time in ’98. Spring Break in New Orleans, we all got wasted as hell. Do you still have those beads?” she asked Joely, who stared at her like she’d lost her mind.

She turned back to Xander, who was watching her with increasing interest. “I don’t have any beads. She’s making the whole thing up.”

Novanna slid a couple of twenties across the table. “Could you be a doll and get us a couple of refills? I’m drinking a dirty martini and she’ll have a Sex on the Beach.”

He grinned at her joke before telling the mortified Joely, “Be careful where you get the sand.” He gave her a wink and slid from the booth, without taking Novanna’s money.

Joely whipped around to face her friend. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m trying to hook you up with a fine-ass man.
With an accent
,” she added. Was there anything hotter? Novanna didn’t seem to think so.

“Are you crazy? He works with my mother,” she said. “And he’s twenty-six. I was a teenager by the time he was born, for chrissakes!”

“So? You know the ‘half-your-age-plus-seven rule,’ don’t you? You take your age, divide it by half and add seven years. That’s the spectrum of acceptability. So see? He squeaks in right under the wire. Much better than that 22-year-old airhead Russell is dating.”

She felt bad the minute she said it. Joely’s face instantly skewed back into her scowl. “Look,” Novanna tried again, using a softer touch. “This guy is interested. What harm can it do to entertain an innocent flirtation? What do you think everyone else in this joint is doing?” She watched him at the bar as he ordered their drinks. He pulled his wallet from his close-fitting trousers, which drew her attention to his rounded, firm posterior. “Besides, age ain’t nothin’ but a number. He’s all man from where I’m sitting.”

Joely’s eyes followed her line of vision, and she found herself looking at the way his pants fit his nether regions when Xander caught her eye. He grinned wide. Joely just shook her head as she reached for her purse. “This is bananas. I’m getting out of here,” she declared. Before she could rise from the booth, Novanna grabbed her wrist and forced her to look into her eyes.

“Two words for you.
Pontoon boat
.”

That stopped Joely cold. She was still frozen in her spot when Xander returned with their drinks. He didn’t even bother to sit down. To Joely, he said, “Would you like to dance?”

Novanna practically shoved her out of the booth. “She’d love to.”

Joely stared helplessly back at her grinning friend as Xander pulled her to the crowded dance floor. The dance tune gave way to a Peter Gabriel classic, made popular in an iconic movie from her youth. Xander responded by pulling her closer, fitting her against his strong lines of his hard body. She gulped hard as her eyes drifted up to meet his. Those brown eyes, lightened with gold and green flecks, studied her intensely.

“What are you doing?” she finally said.

“Dancing with a beautiful woman,” he murmured in response as his gaze drifted lazily towards her mouth. “It’s one of the perks of going to a nightclub.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “You’re just taking pity on me because you think I’m some middle-aged reject.”

His eyebrows lifted. “So you think you know what I’m thinking, do you?”

“You tell me,” she said. All her senses were overloaded. She hadn’t been this close to a man in a very long time, even before Russell’s affair. Xander’s young sculpted body made all her senses go haywire. She held onto anger, because it was the only bullet left in the chamber of her common sense.

He leaned down next to her ear and murmured, “I think I already did.” His hand, which had been placed squarely on her back, splayed out as it traveled down the contour of her spine, coming to rest on the small of her back, pushing her into him. For a second there she forgot to breathe. “It’s not Spring Break in New Orleans, but it’s not a bad way to spend a Friday night.”

She glared at him. “Novanna was making all that up.”

“You never got drunk in New Orleans?” he asked with an innocent cock of his eyebrow. She sputtered in response, which made him chuckle. “You hide it well under this domestic veneer, but I get the feeling there’s a tigress under there somewhere. I’m just waiting for her to come out to play.”

“What do you think my mother would say about this?”

He ran his other hand down her arm to clasp her hand. “I don’t kiss and tell, love. Your mother doesn’t have to know. No one has to know.” He brushed his thumb against the palm of her left hand, which wedding rings no longer graced. “Just you and me alone, no restrictions, no limitations. Sounds kind of nice, doesn’t it?”

She glared at him. “So I’m just some one night stand, wham, bam, thank you ma’am?”

He held her closer so she could feel the promise of his hard body. “You can decide that for yourself.”

It was all too much. She hadn’t been touched like that in years, maybe ever. The look in his eyes was primal, like a caveman about to knock his newest conquest over the head with a club to drag her back to his cave by the hair. Whether he meant what he said or he was just teasing her because he could, it scared her straight. This was not the place for a newly single mom who was knocking on 40’s door.

“I already did,” she hissed under breath. “I’m not some booty call.” She wrenched away from him and stalked to the table. She barely said goodbye to Novanna before she stormed out of the club entirely. For the second time that day, she slammed as many doors as she could between her and that annoying, arrogant dickhead, Xander Davy.

When she got home, she didn’t even bother changing. She put an apron over her clothes and went to work. By the time Granny Faye got up for her morning coffee, there were two dozen perfectly decorated cookies sitting in a box, each individually wrapped in cellophane with their own pretty red ribbons tied into bows.

Sitting on the box was a note. “
For Lillian’s Place
.”

Joely was lying face down on her bed, still in her clothes and her apron, when her cell phone buzzed on her nightstand that next afternoon. She fumbled for it and peered through one squinted eye at the caller ID. “Hello?” she murmured as she answered.

“We’re sold out,” her mother gleefully announced. “Twenty-three minutes into the lunch rush and they’re all gone.”

Joely brushed the sleep out of her eyes as she struggled to sit up. “What?”

“Your cookies, silly,” her mother chuckled. “You did want us to sell them today, right?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “So… they’re all gone? You’re out?”

“Yep, and you, my dear, are nearly a hundred dollars richer. Not bad for one night of work, huh?”

That woke her up. Joely’s eyes popped wide open. “Wait. What?”

Her mother talked even slower. “
I sold all your cookies
. They were a big hit. I bet if you bake a few dozen more, you could really rake it in tonight during the dinner rush.”

Joely blinked as she tried to process what her mother was saying. She had spent roughly four hours preparing the cookies the night before, which made her hourly wage for the time spent – minus the cost to make the cookies – more the wage she had requested on all her applications. She was upright, feet on the floor, ready to spring into action in a minute.

“I’m on it!”

For the next few hours, she created dozens of beautiful cookies shaped like butterflies, decorated with colorful icing and an intricate filigree flourish on every single cookie. She wrapped them up, tying them with ribbons she had found in her mother’s holiday arts and crafts drawer, and made it to Lillian’s Place just a hair before five o’clock that afternoon.

Unlike the day before, she dressed to impress this time around. She wore one of her silky wraparound dresses, with striking white and purple orchids on a black background. She took the time to style her hair and fuss a bit with her makeup, adding gold bangle bracelets to each wrist and a long heavy pendant around her neck. The amethyst crystal hung just between her breasts, where the neckline dipped low.

Her mother spotted her as she walked in the door. “There she is!” she called out and several people who were already seated around the dining room started to clap.  Joely balanced a large plastic storage box her arms. Xander, with that ever-present smirk, waved her over to the checkout counter where they sold various souvenirs. “We cleared off a spot just for you,” he said as he walked around the counter, where an antique silver platter already waited, with a sign already prepared, which read, “
Back for Seconds: Artisan Cookies by Joely
.”

She eyed him curiously. “’Back for Seconds?’”

He leaned across the counter as she unloaded her goodies, taking one of the cookies into his hands to study. “We always go back for more of what we like, don’t we?” She cursed how his low, smooth voice sent a tremor through her entire body. Her mind flashed to the night before, when he held her close, his hand on her back, his breath near her ear. “You build the return business right into the brand.”

“One of the customers named it actually,” her mother said over her shoulder, and Joely turned right into a powerful congratulatory hug. “She was the first customer to buy one of the cookies and everyone sort of used her as the guinea pig. One bite and she declared that we better keep those cookies coming because she’d be back for seconds.”

“She’s a regular,” Xander told her. “We can use her image, take a photo, put the caption on it and market it on the website, drawing more people into the restaurant.”

Joely was confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re going to keep making the cookies, right?” her mother asked.

“I… guess?”

Lillian laughed. “Bless your heart. You really don’t know what’s happening right now, do you?”

Xander grabbed the price gun and started stamping each picture-perfect cookie at $3.99.

“Four bucks for a cookie?” she queried, staring at the larger cutout cookies with a critical eye.

“They’re paying for artistry,” Lillian told her. “They can see by looking at it how much time and care you put into it. Francine, that first customer I was telling you about, ended up buying three. She ate one here, she took one home and planned to give the other one away as a gift.”

“What you do,” Xander told her as he kept pricing each cookie, “you offer other goodies, like those wonderful cinnamon rolls I tried the other day, maybe some individual cakes, perhaps some candies. Give your customers a range of products so that they can see the value of each treat. They’ll be shoving so much money at you that you won’t know what to do with it all.”

Joely’s head was spinning. Customers? Marketing? These were just some homemade cookies she’d whipped up in the kitchen. When she said as much to her mother, Lillian guided Joely around the counter to stand next to Xander in time for their first customer to walk up. It was an older lady, a total Texan from her teased hair to her embroidered shirt and her turquoise jewelry. “Hey, Lanie, how are you doin’?” Lillian asked as she greeted the familiar face.

“Can’t complain,” the woman named Lanie replied. She put her purse onto the counter to fetch her wallet, and that was when she spotted one of the big, pretty cookies on the tray. “Well, look at that!” she exclaimed as she held one up in her hand to examine it closer. “These are gorgeous, Lil. Where’d you find ‘em?”

Lillian beamed as she put her arm around Joely. “My daughter made ‘em,” she said with a big smile. “This is Joely.”

Lanie reached across the counter to take her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. You are very talented. These are beautiful cookies.”

Joely shrugged a bit, uncomfortable by the lavish praise. It was just a cookie. She’d made hundreds in her lifetime. Thanks to her peripheral vision it didn’t escape her notice that Xander noted her shy response. His infuriating grin only proved it. “Thank you,” she told Lanie.

“The real question is do they taste as good as they look?”

“Only one way to found out,” Lillian responded with a smile.

Lanie seemed to agree. She reached into her wallet and pulled out some one dollar bills, handing them over to Lillian. In the thirty seconds it took her to get her receipt, Lanie pulled off the cellophane and savored that first bite with a rapturous roll of her eyes. “Oh my Lord,” she said as she grabbed a couple more, before reaching back into her purse for her credit card. “These are wonderful. Do you just sell cookies here or can you cater? Because I have a church event coming up next month and I’d love to order some.”

Joely stared at her, opened-mouthed, until Lillian nudged her ever so slightly in the side. “I… yeah. I mean. I take orders.”

“Wonderful,” Lanie smiled. “Do you have a card?”

Again Joely stammered and sputtered through her response. This time it was Xander who spoke up. “We’re taking orders for her at the moment. Give us a call, tell us what you need and you both can negotiate a price.”

“Sounds good,” Lanie said as she took the bag of goodies Lillian handed her. All three of them smiled and waved at her as she left the restaurant. Joely was dumbstruck as she faced them.

“What just happened?”

Both Lillian and Xander chuckled. “I think you just found your new job,” Lillian finally said.

Joely ended up staying behind the counter all through the dinner rush. Saturday was one of their busiest shifts, and she watched how both Xander and Lillian interacted with the familiar customer base with ease. They took turns minding the register and greeting the guests. Joely felt woefully out of place, especially when either of them decided to use her as the selling point for the cookies.

Most customers only needed to hear that she was Lillian’s daughter to fork over the cash for the insanely priced goodies. Many didn’t wait to take a taste, and all of those who did raved about how good they were. “I
will
be back for seconds!” they promised.

It was a little after nine o’clock when they sold the last one. She did the math in her head. Four dozen cookies at four bucks a pop… and all for roughly eight hours-worth of work? If she could keep that up five, six days a week for a few months, she’d have enough to move out into her own place. Not only could she could get the apartment they wanted, she could choose the furniture to fill it based on quality over price. She’d actually even manage a savings account. It was security, and it was all in her hands. She couldn’t think of a better Christmas gift for her children.

This didn’t even take into account all the other jobs that were piling up on the side. Whether it was a birthday party, baby shower, a wedding reception or a church gathering, by the time the night was over she had at least seven customers promise to call her in the coming weeks to buy dozens of these cookies for their very own.

Her mother and her grandmother opened a bottle of wine which they shared between the three of them at one of the tables in the back. The Saturday night crowd had finally dwindled to a few customers here and there, which gave them all a minute to relax.

  “Some crazy day, huh?” Lillian asked.

“Craziest day of my life,” Joely agreed. “I still don’t understand what the hell happened.”

“You just started your business,” Lillian said with a smile. “Welcome to the funhouse.”

Joely laughed. “I do have to say that it’s more appealing to bake cookies eight hours a day than chase after executives refilling their coffee and answering their phones. I mean, I was going to make cookies anyway.”

“Exactly,” her Granny Faye replied. “They say that success is that moment when preparation meets opportunity. We gave you the opportunity, but you’ve been preparing for this your whole life. You haven’t worked in an office for twelve years, but you’ve been cooking every day. You’ve been priming yourself for this. Sit back and enjoy it.”

Joely jumped as two strong male hands landed on her shoulders. “She won’t have time to sit back and enjoy it,” Xander teased. “We’ve got too many orders to fill.”

She shuddered again as he used the intimate pronoun that linked them together in this endeavor. “I guess I should get back to the house and get started,” she started, but his hands kept her where she was.

“Actually I was hoping to speak to you before you left, go over a couple of things, show you how we’ve set it up to work for the time being. If that’s okay with you.”

Lillian rose from the table, stifling a yawn. “If you’re going to talk boring business stuff, then I’m going to take Granny Faye back to the house. Six o’clock comes awfully early in the morning.”

“I won’t keep her long,” he promised as he took a step backwards so that the two older women could rise from the table, hug Joely and get ready to leave. Joely stood as well, standing off to the side, wringing her hand as she watched them go. Her eyes met Xander’s. “I guess I’m all yours,” she said without thinking, then immediately cursed herself afterwards.

His mouth tugged with a smile, but he didn’t call her out on it. Instead he grabbed the bottle of wine. “Let’s go to my office where we can talk privately.”

Her legs shook as followed him to one of the offices on the second floor, which had a big window overlooking the action downstairs. It sat next to Lillian’s office, which was overrun with paperwork. Xander’s office was quite neat in comparison. There was a large desk, a wingback leather chair and bookshelves, fairly generic as offices went. The only personal touches were the certificates on the wall, which awarded him honors from various companies for his exemplary contributions. He held the door open for her and she walked towards one of the chairs facing his desk. He closed the door behind them before he followed. “Let me officially congratulate you on your new business,” he said as she sat.

“Business,” she snorted. “I’m a homemaker. I bake cookies.”

“You bake cookies that sell,” he corrected. “It’s okay to own how special they are. In fact, it’s necessary.” He poured himself a glass of wine. “I’m glad that you decided to do this, actually. Your talents would have been wasted in some nine-to-five office job.”

Again she scoffed. “A little presumptuous of you to say that, don’t you think? You don’t know me.”

His gaze never waved. “I know that you wouldn’t be sitting across from me right now if you didn’t see the potential in this whole thing. Starting a business is a risky venture. If you are the kind of person who can gamble on that kind of ‘What If,’ you’re not the kind of person who would ever be satisfied with some mediocre job working for someone else.”

He had her there. The thought of baking goodies, something she’d always done for fun (and for her own mental health) for more years than she could remember, sounded way more appealing that beating the pavement day after day, begging for ill-fitting jobs she never really wanted. She wanted to believe
Back for Seconds
could work. It seemed a hell of a lot more fun. “So how do I do this?”

His smile widened. “I’m so glad you asked. I’d like to formally introduce you to our clientele. We’ll make it an event. TV ads, print ads. We’ll sell you, the daughter of Lillian Murphy, a homemaker with a heart of gold and a touch of class.”

She snickered in spite of herself. “I think you’re barking up the wrong tree. No one is going to believe I’m special.”