The Bakeshop at Pumpkin and Spice Read online

  “Are you sure your crush is available? Or straight?”

  “I don’t have a crush.” She grabbed the tray of remaining cookies and placed it on the counter. She shoved her spatula under the edge of one and dropped it on a kitchen towel spread over the counter. “I’m not a fifteen-year-old girl.” She stabbed another cookie, breaking it in two. She tossed both pieces onto the towel. “Just because I happen to be attracted to men different from you, I don’t see what right you have to judge.”

  He reached his arm around her, and she sucked in her breath. She hadn’t heard him leave his seat, but the heat from his body surrounded her own. Chip took the spatula from her hand. “You’re killing the cookies.” He scooped the remaining cookies off the tray to cool. “And I’m not judging.” He tilted his head. “Okay, maybe a little bit. But no more than you keep judging me. I just think it’s stupid to pine for something you’re not getting and ignore what’s right in front of you.”

  “Oh, so now I’m the one who’s stupid?” She dumped the empty tray in the sink and fisted her hands on her hips. “Listen, Chip, I’m hiring you for your labor. Why don’t we just focus on our business relationship? Will that work for you?”

  “Works fine.” He plucked up three more cookies and cradled them in one hand. “I’ll keep my thoughts to myself and just work on taking care of your haunted house.”

  He strolled toward the front door, the denim of his jeans pulling snug across his rear end as he moved.

  Cassie followed him into the hall, happy he was leaving but not wanting to see him go.

  He pulled the door open and paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Just have to wonder how long you’re going to wait to let someone take care of you.”

  Chapter 4

  “Franca, no, I don’t think you should come over.” Cassie raised her voice to be heard above the hammering. “This spell requires me to get into a meditative state. I can’t do that if you’re here.”

  “Why are you yelling at me?” her friend asked. “I only want to help.”

  “I’m not yelling at you,” Cassie yelled. “And I know you want to help.”

  Thump, thump, thump.

  She scowled at the ceiling of her living room. What the heck was that man doing up there? How many nails did it take to attach a strand of wire to the roof?

  “Could have fooled me,” Franca said.

  “I’m yelling because of all the noise here. Chip is pounding holes in the roof.” Poor Jinx. When the percussion had started, she’d hightailed it upstairs to burrow under the pillow on Cassie’s bed.

  “Oh,” Franca said. “Well, that won’t help your meditation during the knot spell, either. Better try another one today.”

  Cassie looked at the items spread around her on her yoga mat. A twelve-inch length of silk string. Red, of course. An incense burner. And a bottle of Oshun Oil to anoint her forehead. She liked this spell. All she had to do was concentrate on Samuel, visualize their future, and tie a knot in the string. Easy peasy.

  “No, I want to do this one.” She crossed her legs to sit in lotus and closed her eyes. Resting her hands palms up on her knees, she took a deep breath. Another. Her muscles eased and—

  Thump, thump, thumpity-thump, thump.

  “Son of a beehive!” Cassie rolled to her feet. “Let me call you back,” she told Franca.

  “Wait. Promise me you’ll try that last one we talked about.” Something crunched over the line.

  “Are you eating?” Cassie asked. Her own stomach rumbled.

  Franca ignored her. “The mirror spell is supposed to show you who your true love is. I’m not convinced Sam is the one for you. So tonight, at midnight, do this spell. As a favor to me.”

  There was no way Cassie would be awake at midnight, much less aware enough to walk backward down her staircase looking over her shoulder using a mirror. But her friend was like a terrier with a bone. “I’ll think about it.” As spells went, that one was one of Nonna’s weirder and less useful ones. She knew who her true love was. What she needed was the spell to make Samuel take his head out of his butt and figure it out as well.

  The pounding rose from headache inducing to eardrum bursting. “I’ll call you back,” she said to her friend, not knowing if Franca heard her or not. Tossing her phone on the couch, she shoved her feet into the flip-flops by the door and slapped outside.

  The sun burned her eyes when she looked up, and she quickly shielded her gaze. The dark figure of a man kneeling with one knee raised was limned by the bright light. “What on earth are you doing up there? Trying out to be the next John Bonham?”

  Chip pulled a nail from between his lips. “Who?”

  “John Bonham. The drummer for Led Zeppelin.”

  He shrugged. “I was always more of a Black Sabbath fan.”

  Cassie’s jaw dropped. “Okay, that’s it. Off my roof. I can’t have a Sabbath fan working for me.”

  He grinned, and a stupid part of her melted.

  “When I was up here setting up the bat deployment system, I noticed you had some shingles that were about worn through. Two more nails and I’ll be done replacing them.” He raised his hammer and pounded the last few home. “There.” He stood. “You shouldn’t have any leaks this winter.”

  Her eyes tracked his surefooted steps to the ladder propped against the roof. His tool belt was slung low around his narrow hips. When he grabbed the top of the ladder and turned, the grip of the hammer smacked across his tight behind.

  Cassie shook her head clear and hurried forward to hold the ladder. No way was she jealous of a hammer.

  Chip’s boots and thighs clambered down into view, and Cassie averted her gaze before her stupid endocrine system got any other ideas. That’s all this feeling was. Hormones, plain and simple. And there were plenty of other men who got her engines going. There was nothing special about that.

  She just couldn’t remember any of the other men when Chip was near.

  “Thanks.” Chip stood inches from her. If she scooted forward the littlest bit, the tips of her breasts would brush against his chest. He inhaled deeply, and his eyes sank to half-mast.

  His bedroom eyes, she imagined.

  No. She stepped back. No imagining anything. Samuel was the man for her and it was wrong to think about other men like that. A form of emotional cheating, even. And she wasn’t a cheater. Not even on hypothetical future partners.

  “No problem.” She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “Thanks for fixing my roof. I appreciate it.”

  Chip collapsed the extension ladder and swung it up onto one shoulder. “Anytime.”

  “So . . .” She took another step back, refusing to look at his bunched biceps or the way his cotton shirt clung to his pecs. “You want to see what I got in the mail today?” Without waiting for his answer, she hurried across the porch and into her entry. She pulled the furry contraption from its shipping box and returned to Chip, who was leaning the ladder against the porch.

  He tilted his head one way, then the other. “What is it?”

  “A new hairy spider!” She set it on a low table by the door and rubbed her hands together. Not only did she love her new purchase, guaranteed to make at least one person scream, but this was more familiar footing with Chip. Talking about the haunted house. Creepy decorations. As long as she kept them focused on the project, everything would be fine.

  She pulled one furry leg from its bent position around the two-foot body, stretching it out long. Two more down and it definitely looked more spider-like than the big ball of black fuzz it had been shipped as.

  Chip picked up a plastic box that was attached to the spider with wire. “A battery pack? What’s it do?”

  She flipped the spider onto its back. “The batteries will get tucked up in here,” she said, showing the sleeve in the belly of the beast. “It powers the spider to scuttle forward and backward.” She combed her fingers through the long hair on one of its legs. “The eyes glow a creepy red. Can you imagine seeing this
thing coming at you through the fog?”

  “How much did it cost?” Chip asked.

  “As long as it makes one person shriek, it will be worth it.”

  Chip arched an eyebrow. “You’re a little weird—you know that?”

  “Thanks.” She patted the monster on the head.

  Chip leaned into her house and picked up the empty box, examining it. “I think I’m going to have to get one of these for my mom. I’ll keep my eye out when I go shopping for her later.”

  “Shopping for her? Is it her birthday?”

  “Nah.” Chip leaned the box against the wall. He slid his hands into his pockets. “She had cancer a couple years back. Went through three nasty rounds of chemo. She’s cancer-free now, but I still like to grocery shop for her, cook her up a couple of meals for the week. That kind of thing.”

  She blinked. “That’s . . . really nice.”

  “You thought I wouldn’t be nice to my mom?”

  “No!” She paced to the porch railing and leaned against it. “I meant it’s nice that you and your mom are close like that.” It shouldn’t have surprised her. Most people had good relationships with their parents. She was the oddball out.

  Chip dipped his head. “You and your mom aren’t?”

  “She’s passed now.” Cassie scraped at a bit of loose paint, focusing on her fingers. “But even before, no. She was . . . let’s just say we’re very different people. But she did bring my grandpa to live with us after his stroke, and for that I’ll always be thankful.”

  He covered her fidgeting hand with his own.

  Cassie hadn’t even heard him move. She stared down at his big hand, brown from the sun. Calloused. Comforting.

  He squeezed. “I’m sorry. My mom is my rock. I’m sorry you didn’t get that.”

  Eyes burning, she shrugged and slid her hand out from under his. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Cassie—”

  “Well, you’re not here to listen to me mope.” She forced a smile. “Did you come to any conclusions about whether we need a pergola? Or will just a simple frame do for our purposes?” Her chest tightened. Please, let it drop. She looked up, into eyes that had turned moss-soft again. They invited her to spill all her secrets, promising they wouldn’t judge.

  She couldn’t do it. Not without breaking down, and she wasn’t going to turn into a bawling mess on her front porch with Chip Gneiss.

  Luckily, he took pity. “We don’t have to build the pergola.” One edge of his lip curled upward. “I think if I plant posts there, there, and there,” he said, pointing at spots next to her driveway, “we’ll be able to create the same effect without the added cost. Unless you want the pergola as an improvement to your house. I know some people grow vines across them and use them as virtual carports. But time is also an issue. I’d have to bring in another guy if we want the pergola up in time for the haunted house.”

  “Nope, if the posts work, that’s all I care about.” She pushed thoughts of her mom from her mind and let the excitement of Halloween cheer her up. She stared at her driveway, imagining the twists and turns of the maze. At one corner, she’d have a high school student appear to have his head slip from his neck. That trick was always a big screamer. But it needed the right lighting. If Chip’s simpler structure would hold the lights, then it was all good with her.

  She bounced from one foot to the other. It was going to be fabulous.

  Chip raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Weird.”

  Cassie lifted one shoulder. “I told you. Halloween is my jam. And speaking of jam, are you hungry? I can make us some sandwiches.”

  “Sounds great.” He hopped off the porch and plucked up the ladder. “I’m going to hang the other end of the wire to that maple in the corner of your yard.”

  “Okay. I’ll let you know when lunch is ready.” Picking up the spider, she held it to her stomach and stepped into the house.

  “Oh, Cassie?”

  She paused on the threshold, glancing over her shoulder. Her body tensed. He wasn’t going to bring it up again, was he?

  “I don’t suppose you have any more cookies, do you?”

  She grinned, relieved. “There might be a couple left in the cookie jar. They’ll be dessert.” She hurried to the kitchen, placing the spider on the island. She pulled sandwich makings from the refrigerator, whistling the melody to “Dead Man’s Party” as she prepared a meal for her and Chip.

  As long as things stayed lighthearted and platonic, she really enjoyed Chip’s company. Who knew? This could be the start of a beautiful friendship. Even though he wasn’t the man for her, Chip would be a great catch for some lucky woman. She ran through the names of the single ladies she knew.

  Susan was a free spirit and would appreciate that Chip wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, but she wouldn’t get his sense of humor.

  Juanita was a sweetheart and had a thing for a man in a tool belt. But she liked to go out dancing every weekend, and Cassie pictured Chip as more the relaxing-in-front-of-a-fire kind of guy.

  Alina, now she would be perfect for Chip. Down-to-earth and funny, she’d find him charming, which Cassie had to admit he was. In his own way. They could go to the occasional metal concert together, and she would keep him knee-deep in her famous chocolate chip cookies.

  Cassie’s stomach twisted. She set the mayonnaise knife down and stared at her spider. They would be good together. She should try to set that up.

  And the hollow ache in her chest told her she never would.

  “What the hell?” She tossed the knife in the sink and wiped her hands on her pants. This wasn’t happening. Six months ago, she’d decided that Samuel was the man for her. Educated and refined. Someone who’d be a good companion, who’d provide security for their golden years. That was what she wanted. She’d spent the past couple months trying to get his attention, and she wasn’t going to waste all that effort on a handyman who looked sexy in a worn pair of jeans.

  She stalked to her living room and picked up her phone to call Franca. Tossed it back down. She knew what Franca would say.

  Cassie eyed the staircase up to her second floor. Nonna’s spell was silly. And unnecessary. She tapped her toe. Oh, screw it. Tonight, at midnight, she’d get confirmation that Samuel was the man for her. She eyed the stairs again. How difficult was it to walk backward down the steps, looking into a mirror, in the dark? A test run might be in order.

  Taking the steps two at a time, her flip-flops slapping at the wood, she bustled into her bathroom and picked up the tabletop swivel mirror on her counter. She grimaced and flipped the mirror from the horrifyingly magnified side that made her pores appear the size of moon craters to the normal reflection. Time for a facial. After she confirmed her true love.

  She stopped by her bed to pet Jinx. “I’m sure you’ll love Samuel, too. He’s got a nice house we’ll move into after we marry.”

  Jinx rolled away from her, stalked to another spot on the bed, out of Cassie’s reach, and curled back up.

  “Okay, I’ll suggest he move in here.” Jeesh. So judgmental. She left her bedroom and walked to the top of the staircase. Turning, she gripped the handrail and tilted the mirror to reflect over her shoulder. She lowered her foot, searching for the next step with her toe.

  Okay, this was doable. The dark of midnight shouldn’t be an issue. And she didn’t feel like a dumbass doing it, at all. Not. At. All. She made it down four more steps, and the back of her flip-flop caught and bent under her heel.

  Wobbling, she dropped the mirror but caught it before it hit the floor. She gripped the bannister tighter and shook her foot until the rubber sole flipped right-side out. No shoes tonight, she told herself as she stretched her foot for the next step down.

  She raised the mirror back into position and looked into it. And screamed.

  A large, distorted face stared back at her.

  Her foot missed the next step. Her fingernails clawed at the bannister. She toppled backward.

  An
ticipating the crack of her head against the stairs, she winced, rounding in on herself.

  Firm arms circled her waist, stopping her fall.

  “Whoa! Are you okay?”

  Cassie peeled one eyelid open, then the other, and stared up into Chip’s face. She was alive! And a complete idiot. She reached for his tool belt to pull herself up, missed, and flushed even hotter at what she accidentally grabbed.

  A muscle ticked in Chip’s jaw. “Cassie?” He hauled her upright, his arms banding around her waist and holding her flush to his body. “Are you okay?” he asked again.

  “Great.” Her body tingled. Her pulse raced. She pressed closer, loving how soft his Henley felt, like he’d washed the shirt a thousand times.

  His brows drew together. “Great?”

  “Uh, fine. I mean fine.” She forced her hands to stop petting his shoulders. It was hard. After another near-death experience, her body felt entitled to a little recompense. “Thanks.” She gave him a weak smile. “Good catch.”

  He settled his hands at her hips and moved from the first step to the ground floor. He looked her up and down. “Well, there’s no blood, so I guess you’re good. But what were you doing?”

  “Nothing.” She dragged her hands from him and ran them through her hair, making sure nothing was sticking up. She searched for the mirror and spied it on the living room rug, thankfully unbroken. She didn’t know what kind of magic juju she would have needed to counteract seven years of bad luck.

  “Were you walking down the stairs backward?”

  “No, that would be weird.”

  He dipped his chin and raised an eyebrow. “Babe.”

  Okay. She and weird went together like pumpkin and spice, but no way was she admitting to walking down a staircase backward to see the face of her true love.

  Her heart stalled. His face. She’d seen his face. Grotesquely distorted because of the magnification. But it had been Chip’s face.