Chapter Two

Her cheeks heating with embarrassment, Skye stomped away. The least Ethan could’ve done was warn her his mother was within earshot. Liz O’Connor had looked at her like she was the lowest of the low, a sleazy ho. Admittedly the costume Skye wore pushed her B-cup boobs into the C-cup vicinity, but she was so not a ho.

Skye didn’t know why she let Liz O’Connor’s opinion of her bother her, anyway. A few months ago, she’d threatened to have Skye arrested after Skye had accidentally dumped champagne on Ethan’s head. Okay, so maybe she’d done it on purpose—but really, talk about an overprotective mama bear. Skye never would’ve taken Ethan for a mama’s boy, but obviously he was.

Too bad he was also one of the most drool-worthy men she’d ever met. And not only was he off-the-charts gorgeous, he knew how to put his strong, athletic body and talented hands to good use. He’d given Skye one of the most incredible, unforgettable nights of her life. And despite being in the middle of throwing up, when his hand brushed her neck as he caught up her hair, she felt a heated tremor course through her body at the memory of what those clever fingers could do, of how gentle, considerate, and kind he could be.

If she hadn’t been tossing her cupcakes, she might have thrown herself into his arms and let him kiss away all her worries and fears. And that would’ve been just one more mistake to add to the mile-high pile she’d made in the last several months. She didn’t need another straitlaced, uptight conservative telling her how to live her life. She got enough of that from her father, thank you very much.

Maybe it was a good thing Liz O’Connor hated her after all. She’d do everything in her power to keep Ethan away from Skye. Granted, Skye had probably achieved the same results all on her own when she’d drowned his Italian leather shoes.

She groaned at the sight of her best friend coming up the path with the port-a-potty man. Skye didn’t need this right now. When several of her fairy helpers darted with excited squeals past Maddie to converge on Skye, she sent her thanks to the universe. A little boy clung to her leg, two girls to her waist, while two other boys grabbed her by each hand.

“Hi, guys,” Skye laughed, her earlier embarrassment and temper dissipating.

For Maddie’s benefit, she forced herself to laugh louder, twirling in circles with the kids hanging off her in a bid to get further away from her best friend.

It didn’t work. “Hey, kids, I have to steal the Sugar Plum Cake Fairy from you,” Maddie said, stopping Skye mid-twirl.

From the determined look on her best friend’s face, Skye realized the jig was well and truly up. It was probably for the best. Maybe her stress levels would diminish once she confessed to Maddie. Keeping her financial predicament from her best friend had bothered Skye. Especially since she’d already told Grace. But her other secret, the Scary Guy secret, she couldn’t bring herself to share. Because while losing her trust fund wasn’t entirely her fault, what happened with Scary Guy pretty much was.

Maddie took her by the arm, leading her unto the path. “You’re green and”—she picked up a lock of Skye’s hair—“what’s this?”

“You don’t want to know,” Skye said. Lately, Maddie’s stomach had been as queasy as Skye’s. Only her friend’s queasiness had nothing to do with stress and port-a-potties and one obnoxiously gorgeous man. Maddie was pregnant.

Her best friend grimaced, dropped Skye’s hair, and put a hand to her mouth. “Did you…?” She nodded in the direction of the port-a-potty.

“Mmm-hmm, right there in front of Ethan and Claudia. Actually, right on Ethan’s shoes.” Skye forced a laugh, her cheeks warming at the memory. She perked herself up with the thought that her day could only get better. It sure as heck couldn’t get worse.

“That’s what I love about you. You always see the humor in life. You never let anything get you down.”

This was true, or at least it had been. The old Skye, the one who walked around wearing rose-colored glasses, never got down. The new Skye forced her lips to curve. “That’s me, little Miss Sunshine.”

Maddie gave her a searching look as they reached Main Street. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Sure I’m sure. Why do you ask?”

“Because you’ve been avoiding me. And I know it’s none of my business—you can spend your money any way you’d like—but I was wondering why you didn’t contribute to Jack and Grace’s house?”

Everyone but Skye had pitched in to buy the house on Sugar Plum Lane for Jack and Grace Flaherty. Jack had been a POW in Afghanistan for seventeen months, and he and Grace deserved all the happiness in the world. Last year, Skye would’ve gifted them the house on her own. It’d been hard not to be able to contribute.

“Skye?”

She took a fortifying breath before saying, “I’m broke.”

Maddie stood stock-still on the sidewalk outside the bakery, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. “I, ah, I think I heard you wrong. You didn’t just say you’re broke, did you?” her best friend asked with a thick Southern drawl. When Maddie was nervous, she spoke Southern.

“You didn’t hear me wrong. I’m broke.” It felt kind of liberating to finally admit the truth to her best friend.

“Skye, this isn’t funny. You can’t be broke. You have more money than—”

“Je suis fauché. Que significa. Non ho un Euro. Diggin’ for dinero. In pursuit of pesos.”

“I think I need to sit down,” Maddie said.

Not surprising. Her best friend was the most fiscally responsible woman Skye had ever met. Actually, she was cheap. She was also brilliant when it came to investing and making money. Skye wouldn’t be surprised if in the near future, Maddie had more money than God.

“It’s not a big deal, really. I’ll be fine,” Skye said, taking the key for the bakery from her best friend’s limp hand. “It’s not like I have a family to support. And I have a job.”

“You have a job… like in a real job?”

“Yes.” Skye opened the door and nudged Maddie inside. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t act like the concept was foreign to me. Volunteering is work, you know.”

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant. I guess I’m still in shock.”

Makes two of us, Skye thought. She locked the front door and followed Maddie through the swinging half doors to the kitchen. As Maddie pulled out a stool by the stainless steel prep table, Skye went to the sink and turned on the tap.

“So how did it happen—the money, I mean? How did you lose your fortune?”

“It seems Big Al made a slight miscalculation on a few years of tax returns. ‘Slight’ as in ‘millions.’ I had to divest several properties in order to cover the back taxes, and with the market the way it is…” She shrugged. “I should’ve kept a closer eye on him. Some of his investments were on the shady side.” She should’ve known an accountant-slash-money manager with a name like Big Al didn’t bode well. She finished rinsing off her hair and got a glass of water before turning off the tap. Taking a tea towel from the drawer, she dried her curls.

“But that still doesn’t explain how you’re broke. You had more money than—”

“Please don’t say it. I haven’t had that much money in years.”

Maddie made a frustrated sound in her throat. “Because you couldn’t say no to anyone, not a cause or a person with a sob story. Skye, I can’t believe you—”

“FYI, feeling bad enough, thanks.” Skye turned back to the sink, rinsing her mouth with water before saying, “Look, I know I messed up, but what’s done is done. It’s time to move on, and I have.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. At least you have your condo and your communications degree. Who are you working for?”

She’s going to lose that hopeful expression on her face pretty darn fast. Skye considered running for cover before answering, “I had to sell my condo. But it was too big for one person anyway. And I’m tired of New York.”

Maddie gave her a since-when look with a side order of Lord-help-me thrown in for good measure, then she offered Skye an overly bright smile. “So you decided to take the fund-raising position with that environmental company in Belize you invested in.” Maddie nodded. “That’s great. It’s perfect for you.”

It would have been if the company still existed. Two days after Skye invested, Emmanuel closed up shop and fled the country.

“Skye?”

“I’m working for Grace. I think I’ve found my calling.”

“Here. You’re working here? Since when, and why did I not know this?”

“Two weeks. And I didn’t tell you because I knew how you’d react.” She crossed her arms and gave her best friend a pointed look.

“All right. Okay. But come on, Skye, you have not found your calling. I saw the cake you made today, remember? And you’re a vegan. You don’t eat cake and cupcakes. At least not the kind Grace makes.”

Up until a couple of weeks ago, that would’ve been true. But lately, Skye couldn’t seem to help herself. It was like she had a tapeworm or something. And since she’d unsuccessfully been trying to convert Maddie and her family to a vegan lifestyle, her new cupcake obsession wasn’t something she could share. And now that she thought about how many cupcakes she’d eaten in the last ten days, Skye realized why she’d been nauseated. “Hey, it didn’t turn out too bad for my first attempt at making a sugar plum cake.”

“Two words, Skye. ‘Minimum wage.’ You can’t support yourself on that. How are you going to live on… Oh.”

Skye had sensed she’d overstayed her welcome, but that didn’t stop the small pinch of hurt at the oh-crap look in her best friend’s eyes. “Don’t worry, I should have enough to buy a tent next paycheck, and I found a perfect spot at the campgrounds. I’ll be out of your hair in a few days.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re staying with us or we’ll find you an apartment. I’ll help out with your rent until you get on your feet. Have you thought about calling your dad? I’m sure—”

“I’m not calling my dad to ask for a handout. And while I appreciate the offer, I’m not taking one from you, either. I’m twenty-eight years old and fully capable of taking care of myself. Despite what some people seem to think.”

“I never said…” Maddie trailed off when Skye arched a brow at her. “No, I didn’t. I may have said you’re a little gullible and overly generous, but I never said you had to grow up.”

“I said take care of myself, not grow up. It’s good to know how you really feel,” Skye said, and began tidying up the mess she’d made earlier, picking up the mixing bowls from the prep table to put them in the sink.

Maddie reached for her hand. “I love you. I’m worried about you.”

Skye sighed, setting the bowls on the table. “I love you, too. But I’m going to be fine.”

“Sit down.” Maddie pushed a stool toward Skye with her foot. “We need a plan. I have contacts in New York.”

“No. Christmas is perfect for me. Cost of living isn’t high, it’s beautiful and mostly pollution-free. Plus, you’re here, and I can help out when the baby comes.” All true, and one of the biggest selling features: Scary Guy didn’t live there. Ethan did, though. But for the next several months he’d be on the road campaigning. And since the man was GQ handsome, smooth, and debonair—not to mention smart—she had no doubt he’d win the election and spend most of his time commuting between Denver and Washington.

“I like having you here, too. But even in Christmas, seven dollars and sixty-eight cents an hour isn’t enough for you to live on.”

“Eight. Grace is paying me eight dollars an hour, and I told her I can work more than forty if she needs me to.” Skye barely managed to stifle a groan when Maddie took a pen and pad of paper from her purse and began jotting down numbers.

“How many hours a week are you averaging?”

“Twenty,” Skye mumbled, making it sound more like thirty. Maddie scribbled something on the paper. Given that even thirty hours probably wouldn’t impress Maddie, Skye added, “Business has really picked up. I’m sure Grace will increase my hours any day now.”

“She’s using all her extra funds to hire another baker. Jack doesn’t want her putting in as many hours as she has been.”

Well, there goes that, Skye thought, but she didn’t blame Jack. Grace worked harder than anyone she knew. Taking note of the twitch in her best friend’s left eye, Skye realized she had to put a positive spin on the situation or she’d be subjected to a twenty-minute fiscal-responsibility lecture. And since that lecture would undoubtedly depress Skye further, she blurted, “My blog. I’ll start charging people to advertise.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Maddie said, but kept on writing, a frown furrowing her brow.

Skye glanced at the budget, and her still-queasy stomach got queasier. She’d done a budget of her own, and it hadn’t looked half as bad as Maddie’s. “Are you sure you didn’t miscalculate…” She trailed off when Maddie gave her the look. “Right, but I don’t need health insurance. I’m young and healthy. And I’m serious about camping out. So if you get rid of those expenses, I’m back in the black.” When her best friend opened her mouth, no doubt to refute Skye’s perfectly valid points, she added, “And you’re totally ignoring the income I can generate from my blog. I had close to fifty thousand followers last time I checked. You probably don’t know this, but there are bloggers who are making six figures a month. All I have—”

“Are you making money from your blog? Any money at all?”

“Well, no, but I haven’t—”

And she was off. Skye propped her face in her hands, half-listening to Maddie while mentally going over a list of influential bloggers she could get in touch with. Because no matter Maddie’s success-to-failure ratios, Skye latched on to that tiny nugget of hope like an environmentalist hugging a tree.

Twenty minutes later, Maddie stopped lecturing long enough to say hello to Grace, who’d come through the swinging doors, jarring Skye out of her transcendental state. Skye was good at tuning people out. It was how she survived living under her father’s dictatorial thumb for all those years.

Grace, a classic blonde beauty who wore a white feminine sundress, couldn’t hide her dismay at the state of her kitchen. Skye loved her boss, but the woman was a cleanaholic and a perfectionist. Over the last couple of weeks, Skye had been working with Grace on her issues.

Grace took a calming breath and smiled. Progress, Skye thought with a sense of satisfaction. “Don’t worry, Grace. I’ll have the kitchen spic-and-span in no time.” After all, Skye had been the one to make the mess icing the sugar plum cake.

“No, you relax and let me do it.” Grace gave Skye’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “I heard you were sick. Are you feeling any better?”

She should’ve known how fast word of the embarrassing episode would spread in the small town. “Better now. Thanks.”

Grace cast her a worried look. “That’s the third time you’ve been sick this week, Skye. Maybe you should make an appointment with Dr. McBride.”

At least it wasn’t as often as the week before. “I—”

“And why is this the first I’ve heard about it?” Maddie asked, a hurt expression on her face.

“Because it’s not a big deal. It’s probably just the flu.” More like cupcake overload.

“You have been awfully tired. She fell asleep decorating the cupcakes yesterday,” Grace confided to Maddie.

“I did not. I—”

Maddie laughed. “You sound like…” Her laughter faltered, and her eyes widened. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“No.” Skye snorted. “Unless it’s an immaculate conception. I haven’t had sex in over a…” She trailed off. She’d been about to say a year, but it wasn’t a year. It was three months ago. With Ethan.

Not surprisingly, she’d been trying to put that night out of her head. But there was no way she could be pregnant. They’d used protection each and every time. She had had the condoms for a while… Surely she hadn’t had them that long.

She didn’t like the calculating look in Maddie’s eyes or the speculative one in Grace’s. Skye needed to think of something fast. “I had my period last week,” she blurted, at the same time trying to recall how long it had actually been. She fought to keep her expression neutral when she realized her last period had been two weeks before Maddie’s wedding.

Her breath came in short, shallow puffs. Stress, it was just the stress. She filled her lungs to prevent hyperventilating. Yes, that was it exactly. The stress. Her breathing evened out. Lots of people missed periods due to stress. And no way would the universe pull a cosmic joke of this proportion on her. As if she could be pregnant by the Republican Party’s poster boy. The Fates wouldn’t be that cruel. Thinking back to the last few months, she realized, yes, they darn well could. She jumped off the stool. She had get to Maddie’s and check the expiration date on the condom box.

“You know, I probably should go home and change,” she said, and headed for the swinging doors.

Grace’s voice stopped her cold. “You can’t. You’re scheduled to read the Sugar Plum Cake Fairy story in the park.”

Skye counted to ten before slowly turning around. “I thought we’d canceled the reading. The book wasn’t supposed to be here in time.”

“We got them to do a rush order. Isn’t that great?” Grace smiled and reached for a box under the prep table.

Maddie leaned over to help Grace and held up a book. “Aw, look how cute you are.”

Skye’s anxiety took a backseat to her excitement over finally getting to see the finished product. She walked over and took the book from Maddie. “I am, aren’t I?” She grinned.

They’d been working on the book for a while now. Grace had done the illustrations, and Skye had been responsible for editing the story her best friend, Vivian Westfield, had written. Since Vivi had been going through a man-hating phase while writing the story, Skye’d had her work cut out for her. She wanted the Sugar Plum Cake Fairy to have a happy ending after all. And Vivi kept killing off the prince.

Skye flipped through the pages, captivated by the pastel watercolor images. “Grace, your illustrations are amazing.”

“Skye’s right, Grace. You outdid yourself. I was pretty sure we’d make a fortune off merchandizing the Cake Fairy, but now I’m positive.”

Too bad Skye wasn’t going to share in their good fortune. But she was happy for Maddie and Grace. Until she flipped to the page that introduced the Sugar Plum Cake Fairy’s prince. It took a moment for her to regain her power of speech. “Grace, I told you I wanted my Prince Charming to have dark hair and dark eyes. Not this. I did not want him to look like this.” She stabbed her finger into the tawny-haired prince’s obnoxiously gorgeous face. “Ethan O’Connor is not my Prince Charming.”