Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“So let me get this straight—you’re outsourcing your cookbook work to a ten-year-old?”
Andrea rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, not bothering to look over at the cat perched atop the tall dresser. “No, that’s not what I said. This has nothing to do with the cookbook. It’s the opposite of working on the cookbook, actually. I’m not even making cupcakes!”
Crumpet ran into the room and leaped onto the foot of the bed, leading Andrea to divert her attention from the snarky and overly involved cat to scolding the over-exuberant terrier as he trampled all over the outfit options she’d laid out for consideration.
“No, no, no!” she exclaimed, shooing the pup back onto the floor.
Crumpet ran in circles, then locked his sights on a stray tennis ball, pounced on it, and sent it bouncing into the hallway.
Moments later, the sound of skittering dog claws ended with a thump against one of the walls.
Andrea winced, praying silently to the goddess that all the photo frames would remain on their hooks.
“Dogs,” Phantom tsked with a sniff of disgust, his tail flicking back and forth across the top of the dresser like a metronome.
“Don’t worry, I’m taking him with me,” Andrea told the cat as she set about straightening the clothes and removing stray dog hairs. “Anyway, why are you so invested in this? Or are you just bored? Do I need to leave the TV on for you or something?”
“Well, that wouldn’t hurt,” Phantom drawled. “I’m invested in the cookbook saga for entirely selfish reasons, as the sooner you finish it, the sooner you’ll stop complaining and pacing about at all hours of the night, keeping me up all night with your so-called experiments.”
“You’re a cat. Aren’t you supposed to be up all night anyway?”
Phantom puffed out his furry chest and pointed his face upward.
“Hmph. Cats are not nocturnal. And I’m certainly not.
It’s winter, I’m supposed to be sleeping in front of a roaring fire, warm and toasty, and instead, I’ve had to listen to you bang pots and pans and mutter to yourself about whether or not various flavor profiles go together, whatever that means. ”
Andrea sighed. Back at home, inspiration would often strike in the wee hours of the morning, but Crumpet was never one to complain.
For starters, the dog couldn’t talk—thankfully.
But he also had the affable nature of a dog, content simply to be included.
Phantom, however, was more of a delicately balanced creature, it seemed.
Although Andrea had a feeling she could be quietly reading books and watching Hallmark movies by the fire, and Phantom would still find something to complain about.
“I see,” Andrea said, her tone stiff. She selected a short-sleeved floral blouse that would layer under a cable knit sweater, and her dark wash skinny jeans.
“I’ll be done soon enough. Monday is my hell or high water date.
” She cringed a bit at the reminder. Part of her wondered why she hadn’t told Emma no, that she was too busy to take a day to bake with her, but at the same time, the idea of spending another day in Marren’s kitchen made her skin itch and her eye start to twitch.
She needed a break. It would do her some good.
At least, she hoped.
“Crumpet and I will be gone for the morning and part of the afternoon, until Emma leaves to go on a sleepover with her friends. Afterward, the plan is for Wes to come here so we can have our own little sleepover.”
“Yeesh. TMI, lady.” Phantom leapt down, landing with feline grace, though his size made a thump unavoidable. “Keep it to yourself, will ya?”
With that, he stalked off toward the sound of Crumpet, who from the sounds of things was still thundering around in pursuit of his tennis ball.
Wes had already told Andrea it was fine to bring the dog and that Emma would, in fact, be disappointed if she didn’t. Though he’d also admitted that it would do little to quell his daughter’s desire to have a dog of her own.
Without Crumpet and Phantom’s distractions, Andrea set about getting ready.
She’d already boxed up her ingredients and supplies downstairs, filling two reusable grocery totes.
All she needed to do was put the finishing touches on her hair and makeup and head out.
Twenty minutes later, she sent a text to Wes to let him know she was on her way, then plugged his address into her phone’s GPS, leashed up Crumpet, and headed out, bidding Phantom a peaceful nap.
The cat started to make a sarcastic reply, but she only caught the first half before closing the front door.
“Honestly, Crumpet, if we ever get a cat, it’s gonna have to be of the non-talking variety. I honestly don’t know how Marren puts up with him.”
Crumpet happily barked and trotted down the front steps, his paws having no issue in the fresh snow. With the work next door stopped for the weekend, the neighborhood was peaceful and quiet, draped in a glittering layer of fresh snow.
Wes and Emma’s house was only an eight-minute drive from Marren’s townhouse, and Andrea found it without any issue.
The exterior was that of a square-shaped Craftsman-style home, with thick columns and a covered porch, on a small lot with a neat-looking yard.
Snow-covered bushes and a bare maple tree promised plenty of greenery in warmer months.
Likewise, the other homes in the neighborhood showed signs of mature landscaping, and tall trees lined the opposite sidewalk.
Wes’s work truck was in the driveway, parked in front of a detached garage.
A set of fresh tire tracks showed in the driveway behind it, suggesting someone had recently backed out.
Andrea secretly hoped it had been Tilda.
The woman was nice enough, but from their brief interaction at the winter market, it seemed clear she was not entirely comfortable with this new arrangement, and Andrea didn’t want to spend the morning feeling under a microscope.
Although, as she pulled in along the sidewalk in front of the house, a niggling voice in the back of her mind reminded her that Tilda’s apprehension wasn’t entirely misplaced.
Wes wasn’t just a single thirtysomething.
He was a father. And it was clear Tilda cared about Emma very much.
Things might be different if Andrea was from somewhere nearby, or new in town, but her temporary status added a layer of complication to things.
It would be one thing if she and Wes were seeing each other in the margins of Wes’s life, with his daughter none the wiser.
But somehow things had flipped and she’d wound up right in the middle of everything, smiling and bright, and Andrea didn’t know what right she had to get so close.
The doubts swirled for another moment before the front curtains parted and Emma’s smiling face appeared between them, only to vanish as the front door was thrown open and the girl came bounding down the steps in a pair of plaid flannel pajamas, each square a different shade of neon, and a pair of boots that looked a size too big for her.
“You came! You came!” she shouted.
Andrea couldn’t help smiling. The girl’s enthusiasm was absolutely contagious. She got out of the car and waved. “Of course. We’ve got cookies to make, don’t we?”
Emma cheered and pumped her fist in the air. “Did you bring your dog?!” she asked, already hurrying to peek into the backseat of the rented SUV. Crumpet’s face popped up and he began pawing at the glass, sending Emma into a fresh round of cheering.
“I keep telling Dad we need a dog!” Emma explained as Andrea carefully reached into the backseat and clipped the leash onto Crumpet’s collar before fully opening the back door and releasing the beast. “He’s always talking about how it’s such a big responsibility and how we’re not home often enough, but I think he’ll change his mind. ”
Andrea smiled. “They can be a lot of work.”
Emma squatted down to bring herself to eye level with the terrier, reaching out with one hand to let the dog sniff her fingertips before she began to pet the side of his neck.
Crumpet immediately decided Emma was his new favorite person and began bounding around in circles, burying himself to his chest in the snow packed in the front yard.
“Do you want to take his leash?” Andrea asked, offering it to the girl. “I have a couple of bags to carry inside. Just hold on tight.”
Emma promised she had it under control, and took the leash, directing Crumpet to the porch.
Wes appeared moments later, and the look of surprise on his face indicated he hadn’t heard Andrea pull up.
Andrea’s heart fluttered in her chest at the sight of him, dressed in relaxed-fitting jeans and a button-up flannel open over a plain white T-shirt.
The sleeves of the flannel were cuffed at his elbows, revealing tan forearms, a cup of coffee in one hand.
“I texted,” Andrea called out, reaching into the front seat for the grocery bags.
“I must’ve missed it. Glad you got here safely, though,” he said as Emma and Crumpet both raced past him into the house. Wes swerved at the last moment to avoid a collision and managed to splash some coffee over the rim of his mug, where it fell into the snow.
“Where’s the fire, Em?” he called after his daughter. There was no reply, only another round of giggling laughter and Crumpet’s happy barking.
“I see those two are thick as thieves already,” Wes said as he set his coffee mug on the snow-covered railing around the small porch before coming to help Andrea with the bags.
“Seems that way,” Andrea said with a grin.
When Wes reached her, he wrapped her in a warm embrace and stole a quick kiss before grabbing the bags from her hands and escorting her inside.
“Thanks for doing this, by the way. I know you’re busy with the cookbook and everything, and with the construction shut down, this was probably a good day to make some progress.”