Sweet Surprise (6 page)

Then again, she’d never really had it the first time.

The doorbell rang, and Mike got up to answer it. Earlier, when her stomach had growled like a circus lion, he’d made a call and ordered pizza. When she’d tried to pay, he raised one dark eyebrow that spoke louder than words. She’d given him credit that he hadn’t even blinked when he’d asked what her favorite toppings were though she knew they were an odd combination.

While she admired his strong back and tight buns, he closed the door and came back with the pizza, sodas, and a side order of Parmesan breadsticks. Her stomach growled again. Maybe not just from a hunger for what was in that box but the entire package of man that opened the lid.

“I’m strictly a pepperoni-and-mushroom kind of guy.” He peered in at the pizza. “So I’m a little hesitant about this quirky culinary combination.”

Fiona held out her paper plate. “I guarantee you’ll never want humdrum pepperoni again.”

He slid a large slice of the barbecued chicken, artichoke hearts, and fire-roasted red pepper pizza onto her plate. The aroma danced up and tickled her taste buds, but she waited to indulge until he served himself a slice and took a bite.

“Gotta admit.” A smile lifted those masculine lips. “I thought maybe the concussion was giving you some weird cravings, but this is pretty damned good.”

“Told you.” She bit into the cheesy slice and moaned when the flavor hit her tongue. When she looked up, she found him watching her with those fathomless dark eyes, his own pizza slice frozen midair halfway to his mouth.

“Is something wrong?” She scrubbed her finger across her mouth. “Do I have cheese hanging from my lip?”

He blinked. “No cheese.”

“Chicken?”

He laughed. “Something like that.”

She grabbed a napkin and swiped. “Did I get it?”

“Yeah.” He searched her face. “You’ve got it.”

For some reason, she had a feeling he wasn’t talking about food hanging off her face.

With the exception of the country station on Izzy’s boom box, they ate in silence. Although it was rather exciting, it was also awkward sitting beside the guy she’d drooled over at the charity auction, again at her former brother-in-law’s wedding, then gone all loco in the head and asked him if he was her knight in shining armor at her accident. It didn’t help that he’d now seen her at her worst. But to know the only reason he was sitting there was because he’d been paying off a debt? Well, that took a whole lot of shine off the apple.

The best thing she could do was gently let him off the hook.

“I really appreciate all the help you’ve given me.” Appetite appeased, she set her pizza crust on the paper plate. “But I imagine you’ve got better things to do than babysit.”

His head came up like he’d been insulted. “Are you kicking me out?”

“Of course not. It’s just that you’ve done so much and . . . it’s getting late.”

“I apologize.” He crumpled his own pizza crust into the napkin. “I should have realized you’d be tired. A concussion takes a lot out of you. Not to mention the pain you must be in.”

When he stood, Fiona had no choice but to look way up while guilt tightened her throat. “It’s okay.”

He headed toward the door and reached for the handle. “Glad I could help.”

“Take the rest of the pizza,” she blurted out. “You paid for it.”

“Keep it. Your refrigerator is empty. At least you’ll have something for breakfast.”

She grabbed the crutches and attempted to stand quickly to see him out the door. A wave of dizziness spun through her head, and the next thing she knew his strong arms were around her, and he’d rescued her from hitting the floor.

Concern crinkled the outer corners of his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Loving the strength of all that good-smelling masculinity surrounding her, she nodded. “Just got up too fast.”

“Try to take it easy.” He eased her back down to the sofa. “Is there anything you need before I go?”

A mix of emotions burned her from the inside out as she shook her head. “I really do appreciate everything you’ve done. The place looks great.”

“It’s a nice place. I hope you and Isabella will enjoy it.” He flashed a smile, opened the door, then he was gone.

When she heard his engine start up and his SUV drive away, she realized her little house had seemed so much warmer, interesting, and cozy when he’d been inside.

Dangerous thoughts.

Insane thoughts.

Unreasonable thoughts.

But that didn’t stop her from thinking them.

Chapter 4

A
week after Mike had helped Fiona get settled in her new house, he stood in the station workout room and settled the barbell back in the stand with a clang. The air conditioner kicked on, and he was thankful for the cool breeze blowing at the back of his neck. A little cooling off was exactly what he needed after the heated thoughts of Fiona that had run through his head during his workout.

He wondered how she was doing in the new place. He wondered if Isabella felt comfortable and safe since both her mom and dad had moved to new houses, and he knew things like that could upset children. He wondered how Fiona’s ankle was faring and if she still had the stitches in her forehead. He wondered if she’d found a new car and if she’d been able to get a start on her cupcake shop.

Most of all, he wondered when the hell he was going to stop thinking about her.

He wiped his face with a towel just as Jackson walked in. Judging by the Nike shorts and raggedy T-shirt, Crash was about to commence his own workout before they started their shift.

“Hope you didn’t leave any sweat on the equipment.” Jackson stepped up on the treadmill and programmed his run.

“Always for you, Cinderella.” Mike laughed. “I know how much you love it.”

“Smart-ass.” Jackson grinned as he started to jog.

“How’s the house coming along?”

“Almost done. Just need to finish up the paint in the extra bedroom and tile the downstairs shower. Abby’s been really patient, so I thought I’d try to wrap it all up tomorrow on my day off. It’ll be nice just to be able to kick back with my woman instead of working till I’m practically asleep on my feet.”

“She’s too good for you, you know.”

“Yeah. I tell her that all the time. Lucky for me she doesn’t listen.”

“Wedding plans still moving along?”

Jackson nodded and kicked the incline up a notch. “You’re still coming, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Mike slung the towel around his neck and held on to the ends with both hands. “You nervous?”

“Only that she’ll change her mind before I get her to say I do.”

“There a chance of that happening?”

“Not as long as I’m breathing. We were meant to be together. She’s seen me at my worst, and she still loves me.”

“Seriously?” Mike grinned. “Because there’s a whole lot of worst in you to be found. And I’m only saying that as someone who’s fallen through a factory roof with you and lived to talk about it.”

“Yeah. That’s not going to look so pretty on my record when I apply for a captain’s position.”

“Live and learn.” At his friend’s grimace, Mike added, “No worries. When the time comes, you’ll do great.”

“I guess sometimes you have to move past the mistakes you made in order to find what you really need. Even if those mistakes have a real good hold on your heart.”

Mike’s head snapped up. “You calling your ex-wife a mistake?”

“I’d
never
call Fiona a mistake.” Jackson glared. “She’s one of the best people I know. She gave me my little girl, and she’s an amazing mother. Fiona has been one of the highlights of my life. I love that woman, and I respect her.”

“Okay. Okay.” Mike put up his hands. “I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“I know you didn’t.” Jackson slid him a look. “I was actually talking about you.”

“Me what?”

“Moving past mistakes you’ve made to find what you really need.”

“I’ve got everything I need.”

“Do you?”

Mike folded his arms across the front of his damp shirt. “How is it you can run like a fucking rabbit and not even breathe hard?”

“I leave the breathing-hard part for better and more satisfying things.” Jackson gave him a familiar smirk. “Nice try, buddy. But dodging the truth isn’t going to work.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Problem was, he did know. So he headed toward the door.

Jackson snagged an arm out and caught him by the sleeve. “Not so fast, Hooch.”

“You know that’s a ridiculous-ass nickname, right?”

“God, you suck at this.”

Mike almost cringed as his best friend cut right through the bullshit.

“I seem to remember a time when
you
wouldn’t let
me
off the hook,” Jackson said. “So I’m returning the favor.”

“How about you don’t, and we’ll just say you did.”

Jackson barked out a laugh. “How about you back your ass up and not run for the door like a chicken shit.”

“Get down off that treadmill, and I’ll show you who’s a chicken shit.”

Jackson’s grin grew to about two miles wide. “Are you bringing a date to the wedding?”

“You know I don’t
date.
”

“Right. You just get lucky.”

Mike tried not to grimace at how derogatory yet true that statement really was. “On occasion.”

“And you’re still sticking to your ‘
I don’t sleep over and neither do they
’ rule?”

“If it’s not broke, why fuck it up?”

“Are you seriously going to let that ex-wife of yours ruin you for all time?”

“It has nothing to do with her,” Mike said. And it didn’t. He’d moved way past the shitstorm that had been their marriage.

Jackson narrowed his eyes. “Doesn’t it?”

“Nope. So just get that crazy thought out of your head.” He threw his towel at the man.

Laughing, Jackson ducked.

But as Mike left the exercise room, he had to admit there was nothing funny about his reasons for locking down his heart.

Nothing funny at all.

P
hysical therapy had done wonders for Fiona’s ankle. The swelling was gone, as were the stitches in her forehead, and the bruise had mellowed to a nice mustard yellow.

Progress.

The loss of time, however, was giving her a good swift kick in the jeans.

By now she’d planned to have the interior of her shop painted and the cabinets installed. Instead, she stood in the middle of her yet-to-be-realized dream, directing movers where to position the display case, kitchen equipment, and supplies she’d been granted as the highest bidder at a going-out-of-business auction for a Houston cupcakery. The auction had saved her enough to be able to hire a few experts. She might not have the carpentry skills to create shelves and cupboards, but she did have the craftiness to snag several vintage chandeliers from thrift stores and transfer them into shimmery pink pieces of art.

The old Calico Café building she now leased had sat empty for several years. Mrs. Higgleby, the owner of the building, had been so happy to finally find a tenant, she’d given Fiona three months’ free rent. The monthly charge after that was reasonable, and she was grateful. But in order to start earning income to afford even that after what she’d saved up was gone, she needed to get it in gear and get the shop opened for business.

An hour later, all the furnishings and equipment were in place, and the movers had moved on. As a reward for the meager accomplishments, she locked the door and hobbled down the street to Izzy’s new day care to join her for lunch. Andi Rose, a single mom like herself, ran Little Britches, a small day care from her home. She’d come with high praise from Jana and several other locals, and after some research and checking references, Fiona felt comfortable placing her daughter in Andi’s care.

The fact that the place was within walking distance of the shop didn’t hurt. Not that Fiona considered herself a crazy, overprotective mom, but Izzy meant more to her than taking her next breath. Though tornadoes and other Mother Nature types of disasters were rare in the Hill Country, there were numerous other kid-type catastrophes lurking in the dark. Like the snapped wrists Fiona had received in the first grade after racing a friend to a brick wall behind the school, then plowing into it hands and nose first. Kids were clumsy. Knowing she could get to Izzy fast in any situation eased the worries just a little.

Inside Little Britches—aka Andi’s clean and tidy house—Fiona was escorted amid friendly chatter back to the playroom, where Izzy and two other little girls her age were busy playing tea party. All wore plastic tiaras and glittery tutus. The cheeky grin on her daughter’s face assured Fiona she was having a blast.

“Mommy!” Izzy set down the polka-dotted teapot and ran into her arms. “See my new friends.”

Fiona swept her hand over Izzy’s blond curls and kissed her forehead before Izzy hauled her over to the table. Within seconds, Fiona had three little girls excitedly telling her about the day care’s pet rabbit, Hoppy, which immediately launched Izzy into asking for a dog.

Again.

How the two animals were related, Fiona wasn’t sure. But Izzy loved dogs, and in the Wilder family, there were plenty. Her little girl adored Jackson and Abby’s dog and cat Liberty and Miss Kitty, as well as her Uncle Reno and Aunt Charli’s dogs Bear and Pumpkin. Uncle Jesse’s cat Rango wasn’t the friendliest whisker-wearer, but his black Lab, Dinks, gave Izzy her favorite slobbery kisses. And when she could manage to catch her Aunt Allison’s quick-pawed pup Wee Man for a snuggle, her giggles of joy were endless.

Fiona had promised they’d talk about getting a dog once they moved into the new place. Aside from the added chores of a piddling pup or poop patrol, Fiona really wanted to provide her daughter with her heart’s desire. The issue was finding the time to make it happen.

Andi had been kind enough to fix an extra PB&J for Fiona, and when they all sat down at the lunch table, any lingering concerns Fiona might have had about day care completely vanished. Izzy was in capable and loving hands. Around her, the six children chattered happily like cartoon mice. And it was clear they all adored their caretaker.

“Izzy’s dad stopped by to give her a hug a little while after you dropped her off this morning,” Andi said in a low voice. “He had such glowing things to say about you, it was hard to believe you and he are . . .”

A laugh bubbled up past the peanut butter stuck in Fiona’s throat. Andi wasn’t the first to be surprised at how well she and Jackson got along postdivorce. “We’re very good friends. And I’m very close with the woman he’s about to marry.”

“Really?” Andi’s dark brows arched. “How does
that
happen?”

“They’re good people.” Fiona sipped her milk. “I’m guessing you don’t have that same luck?”

Andi shook her head. “Wish I did, though. It would be so much easier.”

“I guess it’s never really easy.” Fiona knew she was fortunate to have the relationship she did with Jackson and Abby. But that didn’t make all her regrets disappear like sunshine on a rainy day.

“I don’t like to talk poorly about my ex in front of Callie,” Andi said of her own daughter, who currently held court at the throne of the four-year-olds, “But he’d never even begin to take Callie’s best interest in mind instead of his own. So getting along is a total fantasy.”

“I’m very sorry about that. It does take two for it to work.”

“Right.” Andi nodded. “Thus our divorce.”

The subject was dropped, and for the remainder of the time, Fiona counted her blessings and focused on Izzy. When her visit came to an end, Fiona tucked Izzy in on the nap cot with her fuzzy butterfly blanket, kissed her forehead, then waited until she fell asleep.

On her way out the door, she paused, recognizing that Andi might appreciate another divorcee to talk to. “I know we’ve had different experiences, but since we don’t live that far apart, maybe we could get together sometime for some girl talk.”

“I’d really like that.” Andi’s face beamed. “After spending all day every day with little kids, I often forget there’s an adult world out there.”

“So you haven’t jumped back into the dating pool either?” Fiona asked.

“Oh, God, no. There aren’t big enough floaties in the universe to hold me up out there in those deep waters.”

“Then see, we have a lot in common.” Fiona gave her a reassuring smile, knowing it would take ginormous floaties
and
a swarm of swim noodles to keep her afloat in the dating pool. “We definitely need to get together.”

With a quick see-you-later, Fiona headed back to the shop with a list of projects to be done. At the top of that agenda was getting a jump on the painting before she picked up Izzy. Involving a four-year-old in anything that included cans of wet, permanent color, had disaster written all over it with a capital D. Especially for a four-year-old who loved to help.

An hour later, after prioritizing her to-do’s while nibbling on a York Peppermint Pattie, Fiona finally picked up a paint roller, dipped it in the tray of scrumptious pink, and started on the back wall. She’d forgotten how long it took to get everything taped off. Heaven forbid the time suck she’d probably face when she actually started painting the yet-to-be-fabricated cabinets and shelves with paradise green. Or the wood trim and moldings in whipped cream. An electric sander to remove the previously chipped paint would have been helpful. Alas, it was all elbow grease and a wad of fine-grit sandpaper.

A sudden whoosh of air signaled the shop door had opened. Fiona turned to find several of her fellow shopkeepers and a group she recognized from the senior center standing in what would eventually be her retail area. The charge, led by Charli Wilder, was in full force. In their hands were bouquets of flowers and baskets of goodies hidden beneath gingham or floral cloths.

“Welcome to the neighborhood!” they said in unison.

Fiona’s heart skipped. She hadn’t known how the other longtime shopkeepers or the cupcake-buying public would accept her new venture. She’d only hoped things would go well so she could provide a nice life for her daughter. She hadn’t expected so much hospitality.

Then again, this was Sweet, Texas. The town an entire TV-makeover-show-watching nation had fallen in love with when it had appeared on
My New Town,
the show Charli had hosted.

“You have got to let me get my grubby little designer hands in here before you open,” Charli said. “And maybe Reno can paint a mural or the sign for outside.”

Fiona laughed at her enthusiasm. “Aren’t you supposed to be down the street working on opening up your own shop?”