The man tilted his head and studied me. He probably thought I was a nutjob. He wouldn’t be wrong after my bizarre behavior. Then he stepped closer. Some invisible thread between us wanted to stitch us together. Or so it seemed. Whatever it was, it made us both take a step back from each other.
“I’m so sorry,” I blurted. “I thought you were someone I knew,” I lied. “Excuse me.” I turned to go back to Josie, who was fanning herself and grinning bigger than the time she’d run over her ex’s foot on “accident.”
“Are you Sorrel Black?” a seductive baritone voice asked.
I swallowed hard and turned back around. “I am. How can I help you?” Please say it’s to check if your breath is bad. I would do a thorough job. What? Why did I think that?
“I’m here with the Atlanta Daily Post,” he snarled.
Oh crap. I’d totally forgotten I was being interviewed by them today. But wait . . . “Where’s Raine? She was supposed to do the interview.” I’d made her wedding cake for her nuptials last month, and let’s just say she was intrigued with my reputation for bringing out the truth in my couples during their wedding cake tasting appointment. I’d had more couples break up in here than all the seasons of The Bachelor and The Bachelorette combined. It was just an added service that I provided, unbeknownst to my clients. I figured I was doing humankind a service and saving a lot of heartache. Just because I couldn’t be happily married didn’t mean I didn’t want others to be. I felt it my duty to make sure each couple I provided a cake for was meant to be. Thankfully, Raine and her husband were a perfect match.
I was hesitant at first to do the interview because of the attention it would draw. However, word was already getting around about the fantastic breakups that had happened in my bakery. And oddly, it was as if I could hear my father telling me to do the interview when Raine had suggested it.
“Raine,” the sexy stranger growled, “had to have an emergency appendectomy last night, so I was forced to take her place.”
Forced? We would come back to that later. “Is she all right?”
“I’m told she’ll live,” he sounded put off by the thought.
Wow, this guy was a jerk. Totally hot, but nonetheless a jerk. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Eric Knight.”
“Okay, Eric, perhaps this interview should wait until Raine is recovered.” That’s what my mouth said, while my body was begging for him to stay. We won’t be seduced by a pretty package, I sternly told myself. We won’t be seduced by any package.
“I would agree, but like I said, I don’t have a choice. So, let’s get this over with, shall we? It won’t take long. How interesting can a cake shop be?” His eyes darted all over my sweet little bright and airy place—designed to induce feelings of bliss. Maybe the special ingredients in the cupcakes helped. Even so, no one would ever know.
I had to temper the ire building up inside of me, and the stupid urge to kiss him. “That sounds like a challenge, Eric.”
The corners of Eric’s lips twitched up, involuntarily, I would say, by how quickly he made himself scowl again. It was enough, though, to make him pause and assess me. Once his assessment was over, he folded his arms. “No one’s been up for the task in years, but perhaps you’ll surprise me.”
“Well, Eric, get ready for the surprise of your life.”Chapter TwoI handed my apron to Josie. “Wish me luck.”
Josie peeked over at the broody Eric Knight as he sat in the corner of my bakery looking like he was waiting to interrogate me instead of interview me. He was tapping on his phone and making notes, frowning as he went. “Who is he?” Josie drooled.
“He’s from the Atlanta Daily Post. Remember Raine Peters, the lifestyle reporter? She’s the one who begged me to let her do a piece on the bakery after she came in for her wedding cake tasting.”
“Oh yeah. She was marrying the professional hockey player.”
“Yes. Well, apparently, she had an appendectomy last night, and they sent this guy over in her place.”
“Lucky you.” Josie wagged her brows.
“For some reason, I don’t think so.” There was something about him that was making me feel off-kilter. I’d stalled talking to him so I could go grab a couple of slices of my special cake. Eric seemed in need of an attitude adjustment, and I needed to compose myself.
Josie tilted her head. “Are you kidding me? You two looked to be having a moment there. I almost thought he might grab you and lay a big one on you.” Her southern roots came out. Though her drawl wasn’t as prominent as most people’s in Riverhaven—Tennessee’s best-kept secret—due to the fact that her daddy was a Yankee and she was raised up North.