Chapter Thirteen
P edro shoved Kyle hard, yelling, “I reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, and that anyone is you!”
Arms flailing, Kyle stumbled back. He fell to one knee before he popped back up. “You’re my blasted friend, and you tried to poison me. I could’ve died.”
Pedro was shaking his head. “You always were a drama queen.”
“That does it.” Kyle surged forward. In lightning speed, the Rebels’s pitcher drew his hand back to swing at Pedro’s head. But Pedro ducked under the swing and back up, and with both hands, shoved Kyle another step back.
Kyle took a second swing. Pedro ducked and shoved. So the dance began.
Swing, duck, shove.
Swing, duck, shove…each step bringing Kyle farther away from the diner and farther into the unlit street.
“Oh, dear,” said Ivy, but Jaxon was already moving. When Montgomery made a dash to go after Jaxon, she dived for his leash.
“Hey, stop.” Jaxon strode into the street, as a car swerved round the corner. Montgomery yipped and yelped as Ivy grabbed hold of his leash just in time to jerk him back from danger. Tires screeching, the car bore down. Jaxon dodged left as the car careened around Kyle and Pedro, but even that didn’t give the two pause.
Swing, duck, shove.
Step by step by swing, they worked their way across the street toward the green, as the car disappeared from sight. Dina stood in the doorway, watching avidly. Ivy moved into the street and motioned at Dina to come help. Light spilled from the diner, illuminating the elderly waitress’s hair to a neon shade of orange. Dina shook her head and laughed out loud.
Really? thought Ivy, appalled anyone would find brawling a source of amusement.
Jaxon inserted himself between the two brawlers and was ducking punches, getting hit sporadically, and dodging shoves. Kyle and Pedro continued on like he wasn’t even there.
“Stop it, both of you. You’re best friends.”
“Friends don’t serve allergic friends nuts!”
“You, idiot, I knew you wouldn’t eat them. I just wanted you to leave.”
“Leave? Why would I leave? I was on a date!”
“You don’t deserve Ivy. She’s too good for you.”
“She’s too good for all of us, jackass. It was my chance, and you ruined it.”
Ivy bit her lip. Dear lord, they weren’t fighting about the nuts at all. Two attractive, eligible men were fighting over her . It was surreal. Normally, she went unnoticed. How could a tin of cookies turn an entire baseball team into love-struck morons?
Ivy knew she was nothing special, had always known that. It was her sister who was unique. Holly came in first, and Ivy always came in second.
Or last.
Jaxon got his fighting teammates separated. He stood between them, arms outstretched, holding them apart even as they reached around, still trying to hurt each other.
“Please,” said Ivy, holding a barking Montgomery’s leash, “if you care for me at all, go home. Just go home.” The last came out on a wail, caught on the wind. Her words twined around them all.
They halted.
They stopped suddenly, like wind dying down. In eerie stillness they stepped back, away from Jaxon who dropped his arms with a long, drawn-out breath.
Pedro and Kyle shook themselves a little, still glaring at each other.
“You heard her,” said Jaxon. “Get out of here.” Montgomery was growling, straining against his leash now, but Ivy held on tight.
When they stepped farther back and were about four feet apart and out of punching distance, Ivy scooped up Montgomery and stepped closer into the street. The little dog shivered and twitched in her arms as she murmured and soothed him. Once he’d calmed a little, she raised her voice just enough to be heard. “Kyle, thank you. It was very thoughtful of you to take me out.” Kyle gave a curt nod in acknowledgement. Before he could toss a triumphant glance at Pedro, Ivy continued. “Pedro, you are truly talented. Dinner was exceptional—well”—Ivy glanced at Kyle—“except for the nuts.”
Kyle sucked in an indignant breath and turned to her, accusing, “You ate the nuts.”
“I…like nuts.” She gave an apologetic shrug.
“Now, I can’t kiss you good night.”
Everybody, even Montgomery, froze.
“I…I don’t mind.”
At Kyle devastated expression, Ivy could’ve hit her palm to her forehead. Oh dear, how could she let him down gently.
“Thank you both for a truly memorable evening.”
Jaxon snorted a laugh, and Dina, unable to contain herself, began to applaud. Ivy flashed a warning in her direction. She was so not helping.
Jaxon started guiding Kyle and Pedro away from her. He was speaking in a low and urgent tone, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying over Montgomery’s yips and whines as he wiggled to be put down. Whatever Jaxon said worked, because Pedro dashed back in the diner and Kyle walked to his tricked-out car.
Once they’d cleared out, Jaxon and Ivy trailed back to the bench where her clutch lay abandoned. Contrite at being the cause of a scene, she bit her lip. “Sorry about that.”
“Not your fault they’re a couple of idiots.”
She ran her fingertips over the metal scrollwork of the bench. “Idiots over me, which makes no sense.”
“Oh? Makes sense to me.”
Ivy blinked up at him, and he gave her that totally Jaxon smile that made her knees wobbly. “Thanks for hearing me out tonight. Let me know when I can return the favor.”
“Really?” No one had made her that offer before.
“Sure, I’d love to hear whatever you have to say.” He leaned in just as the darkened streetlight popped into life, spotlighting them on the green. “Although…”
Something about the half smile that flitted over his face made her ask. “What?”
“Thank you for a memorable evening?”
It took her a moment to realize he was quoting back to her what she’d said to Kyle and Pedro. She snorted and covered her mouth with her hand, and then they were both laughing hard, bending at the waist, hands on knees, as they released the tension of the past few minutes.
“You’re pretty funny,” he said when their laughter died down. He stepped in close and she tilted her head up.
“Oh.” Ivy looked up into Darjeeling-brown eyes and lost herself a little.
Jaxon leaned in and she held her breath, anticipation rippling through her. Was this the moment? The moment of their first kiss? Time seemed to catch its breath as well. And then, Jaxon blinked, stepped back, and gave her a wry half smile. He took the leash and she let it go, his hand brushing hers, her skin tingling from his touch.
With a brisk nod he strode away, his little dog trotting at his side.
Had he been about to kiss her? What would a kiss from Jaxon have been like?
She stared after him as he turned the corner, Montgomery scampering to keep up.
Her heart still tripping at what almost had been, Ivy waved at Dina, now locking the diner door. Ivy crossed to her own shop. She needed a moment to process the evening’s events.
She flicked on the lights and set her clutch in the back. She wasn’t in the mood to go back to her stark apartment. With the exception of her little windowsill garden and clothes closet, nothing in her small apartment felt like her. When she started the tea shop, she poured everything she could into it. She had brought all her special dishes and table linens to the shop. All her little decoration doodads and bits of self were here. This was home for her. Ivy pulled a chair down and flipped it upright. She sat. Elbows on the table and head in hands, she rubbed her eyes and took a minute to review her life.
She couldn’t help mentally rehashing her disastrous date. She had always considered Pedro a friend, yet he had clearly been annoyed she was on a date with Kyle. What was up with that? All the food he’d prepared was delicious, but if they hadn’t been sharing, she had a sneaking suspicion Kyle’s dinner would’ve been burnt to a crisp. The complimentary dessert for their table had been the epitome of mean. She hadn’t realized Pedro could be that mean. But maybe it was a guy thing. Kyle and Pedro had been friends all through school. Of course, he knew about the nut allergy. They’d all known about Kyle’s nut allergy. In elementary school, no one had been allowed to bring nut items to class parties. Ivy was just glad the fiasco was over, and Kyle was ok.
She needed a distraction from crazy dates. None of them cared who she really was. She was a symbol for what they craved, a vapid woman existing merely to fawn over their every word. Sure, she was a good listener, but she had ideas too. Only Jaxon valued her opinion.
Had she made a mistake baking the cookies? Jaxon had eaten none of them. She was now adored by half the male population of business owners and a teen. And, while her recent dates hadn’t made her curl her toes with anticipation, she had improved her business. Had the magic of Hazard done her a favor, or was it playing a cruel joke?
Why couldn’t she try again?
All the pillars had admonished her, declaring that baking more cookies was a horrendous idea, but was it, really? Another batch could provide a reset. It had been fun. She did love to bake.
Maybe she could get it right this time.
Without giving herself a chance to second-guess, Ivy rose, walked straight to the cookie press, and lifted it from the wall. “I need you,” she said to it, knowing that talking to an inanimate object was irrational.
What she really needed was a reprieve from reality.
Her parents made their own reality, and they were happy. What she needed tonight was the belief that her situation would get better, that she would find true love. Just because none of her dates had been the right guy for her didn’t mean they weren’t ideal for someone. Roman would be great for a woman who flipped houses. Joel would be a hoot for a thespian. Kyle was perfect for a car enthusiast. Rob was perfect for—her mind went blank—a woman living in a flood zone?
Ivy took a breath to center herself and set about lovingly gathering ingredients. As calm replaced turmoil, she began to hum. She loved baking cookies. She thrived on baking these cookies.
Ivy filled her bowl with the dry ingredients and stirred, humming all the while. The tune from the last time came back to her, and she began to sing the blessing. As she warmed the butter and folded in the sugar, she pictured all the men from her dates one by one, and wished that each one would find his ideal match. Wind began to rise, buffeting the glass. A light smattering of rain joined in as an accompaniment. While she cracked the eggs, she imagined Jaxon as he’d gazed at her on the green. What would it have been like if he’d kissed her?
The raindrops grew bigger, plopping against the window as the wind blew them sideways. She loved hearing it; she found the sound comforting. Spring rains had always been a favorite. They brought new life and hope, and the ground flourished under them into green.
Vibrant green was her favorite color. Spring her favorite season. And rain on the eave above her door, her favorite sound.
Calm now, she set a kettle on to boil while she hummed. A pot of tea on a rainy night would be just the thing. Her sister preferred coffee. But that was too bitter, kind of like Holly.
She and her sister were different, yet not. They both started similar businesses. Their relationship, ever rocky, didn’t diminish their solid sibling bond. She loved her sister and was certain she was loved back, despite Holly’s competitive nature.
Ivy had never been a challenge to Holly before. Ivy wished they would be more congenial with each other, that Holly would take her side for once, have her back like she always had Holly’s. The wind kicked up, and a blast against the windowpane made her jump and catch her breath. The sideways rain and blasting wind created a percussive, rhythmic complement. Ivy raised her voice in song. Thou who loveth. This storm was messier than just wind, with its big splashy raindrops, messy like her relationship with Holly. Be blessed amongst us. If only they could be amiable with each other. The thought expanded into a wish she’d longed for all her life. She ached for a congenial relationship with her sister. And wouldn’t that be new and different? The words of the blessing tripped off her tongue. With breath bestoweth. Loving, blessed, not always at odds. Thy heart.
Ivy combined the wet and dry ingredients. She reached for the nutmeg, this time with certainty. Once the dough was in the refrigerated walk-in, Ivy studied her shop, the shared kitchen. What could she do to bless her sister?
Ivy threw herself into deep cleaning the kitchen as a favor to Holly. If she went the extra mile first, maybe Holly would reciprocate. Ivy gave a snort. Sure, that would happen. Still, if it never did, she would do this anyway.
After two hours the space was sparkling and spotless. Ivy brought out the chilled cookie dough. A storm raged now, rattling the windows. She loved how the air fair crackled with electricity. Despite being up in a ponytail, tendrils of Ivy’s hair began to float free from the static in the atmosphere, reaching up toward the ceiling. She smoothed them down, but it did no good. Strands clung to her hands, refusing to be tamed. Ivy jerked her ponytail holder out and set the strands free.
The intensity in the air around her built until she tingled with it, the fine hair on her arms raised, her skin sensitive. As much as she smoothed her hair down, it still floated free.
She took a breath, rolled her shoulders, and willed herself to relax. She shoved hair away from her eyes. Static crackled. It all made sense. Change should be felt.
She washed her hands and threw a net over her hair—really, it was behaving badly tonight. She rolled out the dough and cut perfect circles in it, placing each one on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Forcing order onto the chaos, she pressed the beautiful pattern into them. Lovingly, she dusted each one with cardamom.
Letting herself feel the beat of the percussive storm, she danced her way between the counter and the oven. She baked sheet after sheet after sheet, each time placing her cookies carefully on a rack to cool.
The tea shop smelled amazing. The scent of sugar, nutmeg, and cardamom gave her a little high and she breathed in deep, drawing the scent into herself, enjoying every aspect of cookie baking. When the last cookie was set on the rack to cool, she took a moment to rest, head on her arms at the center table, and fell asleep to the sound of heavy rain.
Ivy awoke to calm. She stood and stretched, hearing her joints snap from sitting awkwardly for too long. It felt splendid. She rolled her head side to side, loosening the muscles in her neck before checking on the cookies.
Every cookie turned out perfect, flawless, enticing.
At least this time the lights had stayed on. She hadn’t been in the dark about anything. Tonight had been about control—small miracle, that. She had accepted the chaos and embraced it, and the lights had stayed on. Because this time her Very Special Cookies would work.
This time, they would do exactly as she’d wished.