Chapter 5 #2
The microwave pinged and she retrieved the mug and slowly whisked in the cocoa powder, frothing it up as best she could without the use of a proper steam wand.
Then, determined to shove all thoughts of William and the mystery woman with tacky taste in boudoir attire aside, she settled back into her place on the couch and let her mind wander to the snow-covered hills in the movie, where a high-powered lawyer was bickering with a small-town mayor over some minute city ordinance, which Andrea hadn’t fully been paying attention to, but she assumed the whole thing would end in a soapy kissing scene and declaration of love.
With a scoff, she hit the menu, logged into her Netflix account, loaded up the first horror flick she saw in the suggestions menu, and hit play.
Andrea woke up the following morning at just past eight o’clock, and wondered if perhaps her internal clock was adjusting, as back in LA it would be five o’clock, the time when her alarm clock would go off.
It gave her exactly two hours to hop on her Peloton, shower, blow-dry and style her hair, squeeze in a trip to her favorite coffeeshop, and still arrive at Sunset Sweets half an hour before opening, to ensure everything was as it should be.
Back when she was more of a one-witch operation her hours had been far earlier, as she’d been responsible for nearly all of the production.
These days she had a staff she trusted to be there in those predawn hours, firing up the ovens, proofing the dough, frosting the cupcakes.
Crumpet let out a soft woof sound from his place at the foot of the bed, but as Andrea pushed aside the quilt and flannel sheets, he stirred and lifted his head.
“Morning,” Andrea said. Crumpet took that as his own wake-up call and jumped up, scampering across the bedding to lick her face. She laughed and held him back. “Blech, doggy morning breath!”
A scoff came from across the room. “Do you have any idea how many germs are in a dog’s mouth?” Phantom asked. “Marren keeps a bottle of antibacterial soap in the bathroom. I’d suggest taking it into the shower this morning and doing a full scrub-down.”
Undeterred, Crumpet let out a happy bark and licked Andrea’s face once more before leaping down from the side of the bed and scrabbling across the room, his nails skidding on the hard floors when he reached the hallway.
Andrea got out of bed and stretched her arms over her head. “Good morning to you, too, Phantom.”
“I’m serious,” the cat replied. “I caught him with his nose in my litter box while you were sleeping.”
Andrea’s sleepy smile vanished as she reached up to probe the side of her cheek.
The cat laughed and jumped down from his perch atop the tall dresser. “Exactly.” He swished his fluffy tail and sauntered toward the doorway. “Now, what’s the plan today? More cheesy movies and mumbling to yourself?”
“I think I’m burnt out on the movie part, but yes, there will probably be more mumbling.
The plan is to start baking though. Which means, you’ll have to hold down the fort while I go to the market.
I trust you can keep Crumpet company—and out of the litter box,” she added, her nose wrinkling as she padded into the adjoining bathroom to scrub her face.
“I make no promises.”
A hot shower was always a nice way to start the day, in Andrea’s estimation, and half an hour later she was clean and dressed for the day.
Her hair was still twisted atop her head and wrapped in a towel while she sat at the round kitchen table, finishing her grocery list. Marren had one of the single-serving coffee machines, and while the Italian Roast pod was not to Andrea’s taste, it would give her the boost she needed to get out the door.
She was about to go upstairs to blow-dry her hair and swipe on a little makeup when there was a soft knock on the front door.
Crumpet, in true terrier fashion, went berserk.
Which immediately set Phantom to complaining and muttering as he ran back upstairs to hide out.
Andrea went to the door and checked through the narrow window to the right. It was a bit early for a door-to-door salesperson to be out circulating, especially in the snow, but then, maybe they did things differently in Vermont.
Instead of a young person with a clipboard or messenger bag full of brochures, Andrea found Wes, standing on the porch, bundled in a black Patagonia jacket and wool stocking cap.
Around his neck was a rather shabby-looking scarf in various shades of blue that suggested perhaps an novice crochet enthusiast had been at the hook for its creation.
At least this time she had real pants on.
Wes smiled as Andrea cracked the door open. “Morning,” he said, then held up two paper cups, both printed with the Rooster’s Crow Coffeehouse logo. “I come bearing gifts, and good news,” he added, smiling with a level of enthusiasm that was starkly at odds with the cold, gray morning.
Andrea quirked a brow. “You’ve decided to bless me with an early Christmas gift and put the reno off until after the holidays?”
Wes chuckled and extended one of the two cups. “Oat milk hazelnut latte with one pump of vanilla.”
Andrea’s brow arched even higher.
“I asked Maya what you ordered,” Wes explained, his smile going wider. “She has something of a photographic memory when it comes to faces and drink orders.”
Andrea wrapped her hands around the cup and let the warmth seep into her fingers. “Well, thanks. You really didn’t have to do this.”
“I know,” he replied, his now free hand reaching up to tug the wool cap a little lower on his brow. “But I feel bad about disrupting your vacation.” He paused and turned to retrieve a paper bag from the railing of the porch; it bore the same logo as the cups. “I got a few muffins and scones, too.”
Andrea recalled the dry cookie she’d brought home that first night. Unfortunately, it was unsalvageable, and had promptly wound up in the trash. She doubted the muffins would fare any better, but hey, it was the thought that counted.
She appraised Wes in a new light as she accepted the bag.
Handsome, thoughtful, resourceful … not to mention gainfully employed.
He drove a beat-up work truck instead of a souped-up sports car, and while his teeth were perfectly fine, they were natural and human, instead of two sizes too big for his mouth and bleached to an eerie shade of Elmer’s glue white.
And he hadn’t so much as murmured the words crypto coin or start-up opportunity…
What was the catch?
A quick peek revealed a bare left finger.
Hmm.
“You mentioned good news?” Andrea prompted, if for no other reason than to pull herself from her reverie and stop staring at him like he was some kind of new cake prototype she was searching for imperfections.
“The water leak wasn’t as bad as we originally thought, which should shave a few days off the original target. A day or so more of demo and noise, then we’ll quiet down, and we should be out of your hair by the end of next week.”
“That is good news. Then I guess it will be my turn to annoy the neighbors,” Andrea replied with a laugh.
Wes’s dark brows furrowed and she rolled a finger through the air in a circle. “I’m a pastry chef, and while I’m here, I’m supposed to be finishing my cookbook. So, think of electric mixers and blenders and oven timers going off all day.”
“Wow! That’s impressive. A cookbook?”
“It’s my third, actually. This one is all about cupcakes.
” A hint of heat washed over her cheeks and she ducked her chin before taking another long sip, waiting for it to fade.
Even after years of TV appearances, magazine articles, interviews, and book tours, she still got flustered talking about herself, always worried it would come across as bragging.
Wes didn’t seem to mind. His smile was warm and genuine. “I’ll admit, I didn’t realize there were enough kinds of cupcakes to fill an entire cookbook,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “But then, I’ve never been much of a chef. I make a pretty mean tuna casserole, so I’ve been told.”
Andrea grinned and peeked over her shoulder, halfway expecting Phantom to appear at the mention of his favorite topic—fish.
“Hey, we all gotta start somewhere, right?” she replied as she turned back to face him, though the moment of humor faded and her lips twisted into a wry smile.
“Although, I’m beginning to wonder the same thing.
About the cupcakes, I mean. Thus far, the book is a bit sparse on ideas. Much to my editor’s chagrin.”
“Ah.” Wes gave an sympathetic nod, then his smile widened again, his dimple showing for half a heartbeat. “Well, I’m pretty sure I can speak for the rest of my crew in saying that if you need some willing taste testers, we’re right next door.”
Andrea laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Seriously, though, that sounds really cool. I’ve never met a cookbook author before.”
“Thank you.” Andrea smiled and took another sip of coffee. It was perfection. Ambrosia in a paper cup.
“Although now I’m even more curious as to what brings you out to Maple Crossing?” Wes asked. “It seems a bit off the beaten path for a holiday getaway. Most people stick to Stowe and the surrounding ski lodges. I’m kind of envisioning you throwing a dart at a map, or something.”
Andrea laughed. “I guess I have the power of the Google algorithm to thank. It’s a bit of a long story, but I needed a getaway. I thought a small town sounded nice. Quiet,” she added with a playful but pointed look.
A loud truck rumbled down the street and Wes winced as he turned to glance at it. “Right.”
“Seriously, though, I appreciate the gesture,” Andrea replied. “If I come up with anything taste-test worthy, I’ll let you know.”
Wes raised his paper cup in a silent toast. “And I’ll do my best to keep a hammer from going through the wall.”
Andrea tapped his cup with the side of her own and chuckled.
Wes inclined his head in a slight nod before he turned and jogged down the stairs, pausing at the bottom to look over his shoulder at her. He offered a half-smile and a wave, then turned away and shouted out a greeting to his crewmate as he exited his truck.
Andrea slipped back inside and sighed happily before she caught sight of her stacked notes and papers and remembered she didn’t have time for distractions, especially not the man-shaped variety.
But as she peeked out through the window and watched Wes laughing with his crew, she decided a little eye candy never hurt anyone, so long as it stayed next door.