Cakewalk by Claire Hastings
Cover Design: Elle Maxwell Designs
Release Date: May 24, 2021
Love isn’t always a cakewalk ...
Gigi Hawthorne is starting from scratch. She just didn’t realize until her crappy car broke down that she was going to be doing it in a small town in Vermont. With an eye for design and some serious decorating skills, she’s managed to land a job making delectable treats for the patrons of the Busy Bean. Now she’s up to her elbows in sugar and flour, but her thoughts are never far from her gorgeous, brooding landlord.
Holden St. James swears he isn’t a recluse. He goes to the local coffee shop three times a week, doesn’t he? Yeah, maybe he never actually talks to anyone, but with a backstory of loss, pain, and regret like his, he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be very good company anyway. Yet something about his new tenant makes him wonder if maybe it’s time to let someone open the oven door and release a little heat into his closed-off world.
But both are hiding secrets as dark as an espresso mocha cupcake and they’re not sure if they can trust each other. Will the truth break their delicate relationship into sad, sweet crumbs--or will it turn out to be the key ingredient in the recipe for a new life?
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Excerpt
Sneaking another glance at him, she smiled to herself noticing a scone on his plate. He hadn’t taken a bite yet, and her chest filled with nerves as she thought about him trying it for the first time. She wanted everyone to like the goodies she was making for the café, but she really, really wanted Holden to like them. Maybe even like them so much that he’d ask her to make some just for him, at home. An image of the two of them in the kitchen together, covered in ingredients as he pressed her up against the blue cabinets, flitted across her mind, making the nerves in her chest morph into something else entirely. Was that…lust?
Stop it, Gigi…just because the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach doesn’t mean you need to make an attempt. Especially with that man.
The sound of coughing pulled her attention back to the counter, where Officer Nelligan was still standing. When he finally swallowed, he took a long swig of his coffee, blinking harshly, like he was trying to forget a taste.
“Miss Gigi, may I ask what you put in these?”
“Ummmm, usual scone ingredients?” she floundered. “Flour, salt, cream, baking powder, orange zest, cranberries…”
“I’m not much of a baker, but I think you might have mixed up your baking powder and your baking soda. A girl did that in my junior high home ec class, and it tasted much like this—kinda metallic,” Officer Nelligan said.
“What?” Gigi said. All feelings of butterflies and lust were long gone now, replaced by sheer panic. She looked at Officer Nelligan in horror, taking in the scone he’d just bitten into. The apologetic look in his eye told her everything she needed to know—she'd screwed up. Big time.
“Georgia. I don’t know what possesses you to even try these things. It’s a well-established fact that you just are not capable of cooking. Please stop trying—you’re just making yourself look ridiculous,” Bradley’s voice said. She shook her head, trying to clear his words from her mind, as she turned and ran into the kitchen.
Sure enough, the canisters labeled “baking powder” and “baking soda” were right next to each other. However, it was the baking soda whose lid was off and sitting in front of it. That was the one she’d used when measuring out her ingredients.
“Sugar Honey Iced Tea!” she exclaimed, stomping her foot in frustration. She could feel Roderick looking at her, but she didn’t have the heart to turn around and see the expression on his face.
“Uh oh,” she heard Roderick’s voice say over her shoulder. “That’s a bad day.”
Was she ever not going to screw this up? When would she learn that she couldn't do this? No, what she couldn’t do was let Bradley’s words get to her.
At least it was just Officer Nelligan. He was used to seeing her at her worst at this point. He and Holden.
Holden.
Holden had also ordered a scone. But he hadn’t eaten it yet. Right?
Racing back up front, she skidded to a stop in front of his table to find him mid-bite into the inedible treat.
“Nooo!” she cried. “Don’t eat that—it’s…”
“A bit salty…” he responded, choking it down.
Gigi could feel the tears starting to prick at her eyes, but she wasn’t going to let anyone here see her cry. It was no big deal. So she got the canisters mixed up. Happens to everyone at some point, right?
“I’ll get you a muffin,” she told him, turning back to the counter. Looking between Holden and Officer Nelligan, she sighed. “At least it was just you two, right?”
“And Mr. Hughes,” Kirk said, not looking up from the espresso machine.
“Who?”
“That older guy who bought six. Owns Hughes Hardware store up the street.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she exclaimed before turning and running out the front door. She had to get to him before he let his employees have any of them.
Deserting the café like this was probably not her best move, but she figured after this disaster, she was going to be lucky to even have a job.
When Murphy Landon, the New York socialite, runs off to Vermont with her bruised reputation and stylish wardrobe in the trunk of a used car, it’s the first time in her life she’s dared to turn her back on her high-society parents.
Used to grabbing a gourmet coffee whenever the urge strikes, Murphy finds herself on the other side of the counter, fumbling strangers’ orders...until a sinfully handsome thirty-three year old version of Ben Rooney from high school walks in.
The pair met years ago at a prestigious boarding school and became friends, but only behind closed doors. She’d been a spoiled brat, and he was a football player on scholarship. Ben tried to hide his crush on her, and Murphy set firm boundaries. After a prom night gone wrong, they’d gone their separate ways.
Now their circumstances are reversed. Ben is a successful surgeon. He’s come a long way from his parents’ humble maple syrup business. And Murphy is pouring his coffee? Is this a joke?
His first thought is that she should drive her gorgeous self right back to New York, where she can’t possibly break his heart. His second one is deep concern. His third thought is he wants a do-over of prom night. A very adult one…
With plenty of secrets between them, copious pure maple syrup, Ben and Murphy are in for a wild and sticky ride.
My head felt congested like when spring allergies first come on. A dull ache throbbed in my forehead and ears, the kind of ache that lingered. I wondered why Ben was here in Colebury—at least a half hour from Montpelier—while his blue eyes urgently bore into me, trying to tell me something telepathically. Maybe he simply wanted me to leave him alone.
“Um, my Americano?”
My cheeks burst into flames. “Right. I’m on it.”
Forcing myself to look down at the counter, I made the drink. At least this wasn’t an order I could mess up. My thoughts, typically a jumbled mess of espresso drink recipes, was now swirling with memories of Ben then compared to the reality of Ben now . . . this new version of him.
When I handed him the reusable mug, he tightened the cap and said, “Thanks. You didn’t try to poison me, did you?”
Swallowing my pride, I shook my head. “Of course not. I would never. Plus, Zara wouldn’t be too happy with that. She’s a good one,” I said, the last part a whisper. She’d given me a chance, after all.
“At one time, you did try.” He raised a brow, alluding to the badly spiked punch at Burnett’s after-prom party.
I’d felt compelled to go to that stupid party, determined to show my ex what a good time I was having with Ben. Except, poor Ben got sick and spent the evening puking, and I was at a loss about what to do with him. I’d never been very good at putting anyone else first. After all, I’d never had to.
Ben took a long sip of his coffee, mesmerizing me with the bob of his Adam’s apple. He cleared his throat, drawing my attention away from his corded neck. “Not bad.”
Take that, Little Miss Perfect.
“Wow. Murphy Landon. In the Busy Bean. On the opposite side of the counter than I bet you’re used to being, huh? Tell you the truth, I’d never thought I’d see the day. You doing this,” he waved his hand at the counter, “right here in Vermont.”
He stared at me with equal parts fascination and contempt, probably because I let him get rip-roaring drunk and make a fool of himself way back when.
“It’s an honest job,” I said, “and I happen to need it. Anyway, I thought you were in a hurry, but now you have time to make fun of me?”
I frowned at him, feeling the need to defend myself when I didn’t owe Ben a single thing. After all, I’d come to believe that he hadn’t always been honest with me. Not to mention, Ben was just as guilty about lumping me into stereotypes as I had done with him. Right?
“Oh, I’m sure you need this gig. Like you needed good grades in high school, as if you weren’t going to get into the Ivy League from Pressman. Aw, sorry.”
He ran his free hand through his hair. It happened to be his left, and I made the mistake of noting he wasn’t wearing a wedding band.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” he said. “This is such a shock, seeing you here, and I’m not handling it well. You look good, Murph. Nice to see you. Honestly. I mean it,” he said, holding a hand up as if he were swearing to it.
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