Mitch stands just outside the bakery, surrounded by a group of women. His schedule is now known, as well as his temporary living arrangements above the bakery, and he is often mobbed before and after his morning run. Business has picked up for me as a result, so I can hardly complain.
The whoopie pies I made for him earlier this week were such a hit I added them to the daily menu. I’m sure some are buying them because Mitch always does, but a sale is still a sale no matter the reason. I’m experimenting with variations, red velvet with a cream cheese filling, peanut butter mousse sandwiched between the chocolate cakes, and a vanilla espresso cake with mocha frosting in the middle.
“Let me offer you a little friendly advice, Fanny.”
How had I not noticed Vanessa’s arrival? She leans toward me over the counter. I am still standing by the coffee station after helping a customer. Sally is busy helping another customer. A waft of flowery perfume tickles my nose as a smirk tilts the edges of Vanessa’s glossy red lips.
“You’re embarrassing yourself by mooning over Mitch Atwater. He is way out of your league.” Her gaze rakes me from top to bottom. “You’re not even on the same planet as him.”
Mooning? Was I mooning? Okay, yes, I was momentarily gazing out my store window at him and the women surrounding him, but I wouldn’t call that mooning.
Vanessa fluffs her black hair over her shoulder and places a hand on her flat abdomen. The royal blue silky blouse she is wearing is unbuttoned to reveal a great deal of cleavage.
Experience has taught me it is better not to engage her at all, so I simply gaze back at her while valiantly trying to wash all emotion from my face. If she scents weakness, she will move in for the kill, like a wolf circling its prey. Her comments have already drawn enough blood, I don’t want to give her ammunition to draw more.
“Is there anything I can help you with Vanessa? Coffee? Muffin?”
“No, I don’t drink caffeine or eat sweets. They’re not healthy. I prefer to keep my body in tip top shape.” Her gaze drops to scan my body, lingering on my hips.
Well then what the hell are you doing in my bakery? Oh yes, you’re here to insult me. Haven’t had my dose in a while, she’s been slacking I guess and felt the need to rectify it.
Real subtle, Vanessa. I suppose I should be thankful she has shortened her nickname for me from Fatty Fanny to just Fanny, but I’m not. I’m guessing the only reason is it would reflect badly on her if she used the childish moniker.
Biting my tongue at the reply I’d rather give, I remind myself I am a business owner and I mustn’t insult the customers. Or throw a pie in her face.
The front door opens, and my gaze darts up desperately hoping for a reprieve from Vanessa. Mitch walks in smiling.
“You should learn to be less obvious with your interest.” Apparently, she’s not done with her insults this morning.
“Interest in what?”
I see the entrance to the kitchen in my peripheral vision. What would happen if I turned and ran? Mitch heard her comment. She might tell him she caught me mooning over him. I remain in place and fantasize about gagging her with the towel I’m twisting in my hands.
“Oh Mitch, hello, I didn’t see you there.”
She bats her false eyelashes at him and giving him what she must think is a coy smile, but it resembles a shark moving in for the kill.
“I was just trying to give Fanny here some friendly advice on a certain crush she has on someone.”
Please someone save me! A small emergency or natural disaster would be welcome right about now.
Mitch’s gaze snags mine and I give him a weak smile. I can’t tell what he is thinking behind those blue eyes, but the smile he came in with disappeared. He glances down at Vanessa.
“I’m sure Franny does just fine without your advice.” His emphasis on my name makes it clear he picked up on her misuse of my name and he doesn’t approve.
My white knight.
“Oh, this is a small town and we like to help each other out here. Isn’t that right?” Vanessa scrutinizes me and I glare right back. Was she seriously expecting me to bail her out?
Knowing she could still do more damage and embarrass me further, I force a tight smile to my lips. “Small towns have a way of doing that.” That is the extent of my help.
She titters and places her hand on Mitch’s shoulder. Her red fingernails stand out starkly against his white T-shirt.
“Mitch, I’d love to show you around our little town to welcome you to Granite Cove.”
Say no, please say no. The thought of Mitch and Vanessa spending time together in any way makes me ill.
“Thanks, but I’ve been here before.” He steps to the side and angles his body away from her so that her hand drops from his shoulder.
Vanessa props her hand on her hip. Her smile falters, but she tosses her hair and keeps the smile plastered on her face. “Oh, well then, if you change your mind, I own the real estate office just up the street.”
Mitch nods and Vanessa sashays out the door. That very well may have been the first time Vanessa has ever been rejected before. At least it is the first one I have ever witnessed. And yes, I am petty enough to appreciate it and oh so thankful I would not have to endure watching Mitch and Vanessa together.
“I’m guessing she’s not a friend of yours?”
Snorting rather indelicately, I clap a hand to my mouth and then drop it. “No, more like mortal enemy from the first day of school.”
Mitch folds his arms along the top of the case and leans closer. “So, who’s the guy you’re interested in?”
The breath stutters in my chest and visions of me turning blue while I panic trying to come up with an answer that won’t humiliate me flash through my mind. Honesty is out of the question.
I can’t tell him Vanessa was referring to him. Even though she was way off base. I am not crushing on Mitch. Just because I may admire the way he looks doesn’t mean my heart is involved.
I will never make that mistake again.
I need a name and fast.
A familiar truck drives by the window.
“Bobby Calvert.” I whisper the name and glance over at Sally and the customer she is chatting with to make sure no one overheard. Everyone in town knows Bobby Calvert. He grew up in town, the same as me, and owns a landscaping business. I should have chosen someone more obscure, or better yet, had the sense to make someone up.
Mitch straightens and folds his arms over his chest. “Tell me about him.”
Oh dear Lord, this is why I don’t lie. It just gets deeper and deeper.
“Franny I’ll be back in a minute. Meredith just bought a bunch of plants. She’s going to show them to me in her car.” Sally walks around the counter, removing her apron and folding it as she goes. She drops it on top of the counter before she and Meredith stroll outside, leaving me alone with Mitch.
There goes my excuse not to elaborate. I suppose I should be thankful there won’t be any witnesses to my downfall. Whether it is a downfall for the sin of lying or because I am about to humiliate myself, I’m not quite sure. Probably both in my case.
The door closes behind them and I peek back at Mitch, he’s still staring at me expectantly.
“What do you want to know?” And why? Why does he care who I have an interest in any way?
“Who is he? What does he do? Does he live here in town?”
Frowning, I debate how to answer him. I don’t want to give him any more information than I already have. What if he meets Bobby?
The ramifications of a single lie are suddenly mind blowing.
“I’d rather not talk about this, okay? What do you care anyway? And please don’t tell anyone!”
“By that I take it he doesn’t know?”
I roll my eyes at him and scrub the counter with the mangled towel still clutched in my hands. “No genius, he doesn’t know, and I don’t want him to.”
“Why not? How are you going to find out if he returns your feelings, or if he’s even worthy of your interest?”
My hand stops in mid swipe. Worthy of my interest?
“We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends help each other out.”
What on earth does that mean?
Sally returns and I take that as a signal to escape. “I have stuff to do.” I scramble for the kitchen, fervently hoping absence will make him forget the subject forever.
No such luck.
He follows me into the kitchen. “I have an idea.”
I spin around and gawk at him. Why wouldn’t he drop this?
“You can’t be back here.”
Mitch looks around the kitchen. “Why not?”
My arms flap. “Because, it’s for employees only. Health code and all that. Shoo.”
Folding his arms over his chest, he rests a shoulder against a cooler. “I own the building, remember?”
Crap! How could I forget that?
“Listen to my plan and stop hyperventilating.”
I close my eyes and mouth and then waltz over to the sink to wash my hands. I wasn’t hyperventilating. Slightly panicking, maybe.
If I have to listen to whatever plan he has, then I will bake something. Baking soothes me. Besides, I am still working. Not all of us are so rich we can laze around coming up with ridiculous plans about nonexistent romantic interests.
Defensive much? Yes. I am.
“Friend that I am, I’m willing to help you catch the interest of this guy.”
God help me!
I gather ingredients to make a cake.
“Making a guy jealous is guaranteed to catch his interest.”
“Wait, what?”
“If he sees you’re attracted to someone else, then you’ll grab his attention.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Isn’t it? That doesn’t really work.
“Trust me.”
“And just who am I supposed to pretend to be interested in?”
“Me.” The measuring cup full of flour slips from my nerveless fingers and hits the counter with a smack sending up a cloud of white dust.
Oh God!
The room wavers and I slap my palms flat on the counter and wait for the vertigo to pass. I look up. He’s reclining against the cooler watching me.
I’ve been struck dumb. Did he just suggest I show an interest in him?
“You’ll be helping me out too.”
“I will?”
“Yeah, if people think we’re an item, then the women will stop trying to ambush me all the time. One followed me up to my apartment. I had to shut the door in her face, because she wouldn’t go away. I was half afraid she’d still be there the next morning.”
Ah, there’s the catch. He needs a make-believe girlfriend.
And he is choosing me?
Mitch saunters over to the opposite side of the counter I’m working at and places both his hands flat on the surface facing me. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know to catch this guy.”
I remeasure the flour and then the rest of the dry ingredients. “Like what?”
“I understand how guys think, obviously.”
Not so obvious. I’m a woman and I never know what other women are thinking.
“What’s the harm?”
Oh I don’t know, I will be in a fake relationship with a guy I used to believe I was in love with to make the guy I picked out of thin air interested in me. How could that possibly go wrong?