Chapter 19
19
DORIE
I stood in the kitchen, carefully placing the last of the pastel-colored cupcakes into their boxes. Easter was always one of my favorite holidays. I helped with the egg hunt every year. I donated the cupcakes, which was a hit to my bottom line, but it was my way of giving back to our little community. It was also a little free advertisement.
Toby walked into the kitchen and looked at the counters covered with pink boxes. “This is more than last year,” he said.
I nodded. “Every year we run out. And every year there’s a horde of sad, crying kids and angry parents giving me the side eye. I’m not running short this year.”
“They get what they asked for.” He laughed. “They’re going to all be sugared out.”
“Are you sure you can handle things here?” I asked. “We could just close the bakery.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “I’ll help you load these in the car.”
I was grateful for his help. We carried the boxes out to my car, careful not to smudge the delicate frosting. Spring was finally here, and thankfully, it wasn’t raining. A couple years ago, it had rained on the egg hunt and that was nothing short of a disaster.
“Thank you, Toby. Call me if you need anything. If it’s slow, close. There’s no reason for you to hang out.”
“Thanks, Dorie. Good luck. Hopefully, there will be no puke, blood, or poop.”
I burst into laughter. “Fingers crossed.”
My mind wandered back to the conversation with Kaisen last night. And the kiss. Mostly the kiss. His offer to help with the developer situation had caught me off guard. I wasn’t used to people stepping up like that, especially not someone like him. But then again, he had a way of surprising me at every turn. There was more to him than the polished exterior he showed the world. I could feel it.
But I still believed he would be dangerous for me. A man like that could do some damage to my heart. I didn’t know how I knew it, but I did. He would make me fall for him and then break my heart when he went back to his life.
When I pulled into the school parking lot, it was chaos. One of the teachers told me where to park. I collected a couple boxes and carried them to the tent area. Parents and volunteers were bustling around, setting up tables, filling plastic eggs with candy, and arranging prizes.
“Where do you want the cupcakes?” I asked one of the teachers.
She looked at the boxes. I saw the look.
“I have more,” I said. “I just didn’t want to risk dropping any.”
“Oh, thank God.” She sighed. “I thought we were going to have to divvy them up and that always leads to problems.”
“No, I made almost double from last year.”
“You’re an angel. I’ll have one of the volunteers help you.”
She waved over a teenager, who quickly came to my aid. We went back to my car to get the rest of the treats. “The kids are going to freak out when they see these,” she said.
We placed the boxes on the table. I glanced around at the madness, kids running around and screaming, already amped up before the sugar rush to come. I wasn’t sure Kaisen would actually show up. I doubted this was something he had a lot of familiarity with. Parents were corralling their children, teachers were giving last-minute instructions, and volunteers like me were putting the finishing touches on everything. It was a scene I loved being a part of—a reminder of why I stayed in this small town, despite its challenges.
My eyes caught a familiar figure near the entrance of the school parking lot, and my heart did an involuntary little skip. Kaisen stood there looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but here. He looked out of place in his designer slacks and crisp button-down shirt, but he was here, and that counted for something.
“You actually showed up,” I said as he approached, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.
He gave a half-smile, hands in his pockets. “I said I would. Didn’t think I’d bail, did you?”
“Honestly, yes.”
His eyes scanned the chaos around us. “Yeah, well, you owe me for this.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You’ll survive. It’s just a bunch of kids.”
Just as I said that, someone called for volunteers to be on the field to help reduce the chances of “another bloodbath like last year.” Kaisen froze, his eyes widening.
“What the hell does that mean?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “How wild do these kids get?”
One of the parent volunteers overheard him. “Oh, last year wasn’t even that bad compared to years prior. We only had one kid who needed an ambulance.”
Kaisen looked horrified. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Relax,” I said, patting his arm. “It’s not that bad. The kindergarteners are just a little intense.”
“A little intense?” he repeated, his voice rising. “Dorie, I was already on the fence about having kids, but this might be the final nail in the coffin.”
I grinned, shaking my head. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t let them smell fear.”
Before he could respond, one of the organizers pointed at him. “You! Tall guy! On the field.”
Kaisen looked at me, panicked. “What did I just agree to?”
I shrugged, trying to hide my amusement. “Just go out there and try not to get trampled. If you go down, no one can save you.”
He muttered something under his breath but headed out to the field, looking like a man walking to his doom. I set up the cupcakes on the table, arranging them neatly, and then turned to watch the entertainment unfold.
A horde of kids between five and seven appeared out of nowhere. They were all jumping up and down, talking and squealing. The teachers were doing their best to hold them back. They reminded me of cats. Hundreds of cats. There was no wrangling them.
“Are we ready!” one of the teachers called out.
Kaisen looked anything but ready. I imagined he was calculating the distance between the field and his car and how quickly he could make it there without stepping on any feral children.
The teacher blew the whistle, and the kids surged forward like a tidal wave. Kaisen froze, his eyes wide, before he was swallowed by the tide of giggling egg-hunters. I couldn’t help but laugh as I watched him try to navigate the frenzy, dodging tiny bodies flailing in every direction. A little girl with pigtails nearly took him out at the knees, and he barely managed to hop over her, his arms flailing for balance.
“Watch out for the one in pink!” I called over to him, grinning. “She’s got a mean elbow!”
He shot me a look that was equal parts exasperation and desperation before turning back to the field. To his credit, he tried. He really did. But it was clear he was out of his depth. At one point, he bent down to help a boy who’d tripped over his own feet only to get mobbed by five other kids who accused him of having eggs in his pockets. They used him as some kind of human jungle gym while they rifled through his pockets.
I could hear his muffled, “Excuse me!” over the cacophony of laughter and shouting.
After he’d sent them toward an untouched hoard of eggs by the swing set, he noticed a little kindergarten-aged girl crying because she’d dropped her basket. Without hesitation, he scooped her up, picked up her eggs, and ran with her to collect more, almost bowling over other children in pursuit of his mission. The little girl had stopped crying and was cheering him on.
Annie came over, her eyes following Kaisen as he navigated the insanity. “He’ll be a great dad one day,” she said, her tone teasing.
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way my stomach flipped at the thought. “He just made a comment about not wanting kids,” I said.
Annie raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Sure. But look at him. He’s a natural. He may not want a hundred kids all the same age, but that man is a daddy. He’s making my ovaries sing. My husband is going to get very lucky tonight.”
I didn’t respond. My eyes were glued to Kaisen. He lifted up the little girl so she could reach an egg balanced on a low tree branch. Why did I care what he wanted or didn’t want? It wasn’t like it mattered. But the image of him with that little girl, his patience and kindness on full display, was hard to shake.
“You’re terrible,” I said.
“Oh no, I’m a woman with a biological clock ticking,” she replied.
Annie walked away with a knowing smirk, leaving me to my thoughts. I tried to focus on the cupcakes, rearranging them for the third time, but my gaze kept drifting back to Kaisen. He was now crouched down, helping a boy untangle his shoelaces while fending off another kid who was trying to climb onto his back. It was endearing, how patient he was with them. A strange warmth spread through my chest.
When the whistle blew again, signaling the end of the egg hunt, the kids rushed back to the starting area, clutching their baskets and comparing their loot. Kaisen emerged from the field looking like he’d just survived a war zone. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair was a mess, and there were grass stains on his knees.
“You lived,” I said as he approached, handing him a bottle of water.
He took it gratefully, gulping down half of it before replying. “Barely. I think I’ve got a few new bruises. And possibly a black eye in the making.” He gestured to his cheek where a small boy had accidentally headbutted him during the chaos.
“But you didn’t die,” I said.
There were a few kids crying.
“What’s with them?” Kaisen asked.
“There are always tears at an egg hunt,” I told him. “That’s what the cupcakes are for.”
“You owe me for this,” he said, his tone half-serious, half-teasing.
I held out a cupcake, grinning. “Here. Consider it payment.”
He shook his head, his eyes locking on mine. “No. We’re going out to lunch.”
I blinked, surprised. “Lunch?”
“Yeah,” he said. “You owe me, remember?”
I hesitated, my heart racing. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world to go to lunch with a gorgeous man. “Okay. Lunch it is. But first, we need to make sure everyone gets a cupcake and gets back to the right teacher or parent.”
Kaisen nodded, though he still looked a little shell-shocked. He grabbed a tray of cupcakes and followed me as we moved through the crowd, distributing the treats to the kids and their parents. The tears dried up quickly. One particularly enthusiastic boy tried to shove an entire cupcake into his mouth at once, frosting smearing across his nose and cheeks. Kaisen chuckled despite himself, shaking his head.
“Kids are something else,” he muttered.
“They grow on you,” I said, handing a cupcake to a shy little girl who clung to her mother’s leg. She peeked out from behind her mom, her eyes lighting up when she saw the treat.
Once all the cupcakes were handed out and the parents began corralling their little ones, I turned to Kaisen. “Alright, you’ve earned lunch.”