The Bakeshop at Pumpkin and Spice Read online

  She lifted her chin. “I guess we’re just going to have to see about that.” And with a haughty toss of her head, she stomped inside and slammed the door. A fine exit if she ever saw one.

  Jinx yowled from the porch.

  Slouching, Cassie tugged the door open a crack to let her cat inside. She ignored the tilt to Chip’s lips and pressed the door closed for a much less dramatic farewell.

  Chapter 7

  “Now, this is a spell I can get behind.” Cassie rubbed a dab of the melted soy wax into the back of her hand. The patch of skin turned silky-smooth.

  Franca sighed over the speaker on her phone. “You’re using it as lotion again, aren’t you?”

  Cassie snapped her hands behind her back. “No.”

  A tongue lapped at her fingers, and Cassie turned. “Wax isn’t good for you, silly.” She scratched behind Max’s head and received a tongue to the mouth. She made a face. That was one advantage to cats: They never slipped you the tongue. Chuckling, she straightened and padded to her cookie jar. She picked out one of the newly baked dog treats and fed him one. “That’s your food. Jinx!” she called. She shook a bag of cat treats. “I have a snack for you, too!”

  No cat appeared. Still sulking, then. Jinx hadn’t appreciated Max’s appearance in her house and had stalked off, bristling tail held high.

  Cassie sighed.

  “How many treats have you given that dog?” Franca asked. “He’s going to burst soon, and that won’t be pretty.”

  “Oh, let me have fun with him.” She’d always wanted a dog but had never felt the time was right. Besides, any bursting would probably happen on Chip’s watch. His excuse last night had sounded reasonable, but that’s all it had been. An excuse.

  Max plopped his butt in front of her and tilted his head from side to side. Cassie slumped her shoulders. “You’re right. It was a legit excuse.”

  “Uh, are you talking to me or the dog?” Franca asked.

  “The dog.” She gave Max one last scratch, then turned back to her twelve-quart stockpot full of melted wax.

  Chip had arrived at her house early that morning. Cassie had taken the day off, offering to lend him a second pair of hands to make up for yesterday’s lost time. Based on the muscle throbbing in Chip’s jaw, he hadn’t appreciated her helpfulness. So, she’d decided to refocus on her plan. She’d given Chip a tight smile, stolen his dog, and moved on to the next spell on her list to turn Samuel’s head.

  The whine of Chip’s skill saw cut through her thoughts of Samuel. Cassie tossed a frown in the direction of her driveway. With all the noise that man made, it was hard to keep her boss in her head at all.

  She dumped some crushed rose blossoms into the pot and beat the wax into submission with her heavy wooden spoon.

  After this Halloween, she needed to make sure her path didn’t cross Chip’s. He was bad for her plan. Bad for her heart.

  “Are you ready for the incantation yet?”

  Cassie started, and peered into the pot. “Yep, the new batch of wax is ready. I have my baker’s twine cut into wicks and weighted. But I think I’ve got it now. You don’t need to stick around to read the spell with me.” Hearing Franca’s low voice chanting over the phone, joining in the spell with Cassie, just made her feel like an even bigger ass than she would on her own. It was one thing to stand alone in her kitchen and feel like an idiot. It was quite another to have a witness, even if it was only over a phone line.

  Max leaned into her thigh and gazed up at her adoringly.

  She rubbed his head. “You don’t count.” She had no qualms acting like an idiot in front of such a sweet, nonjudgmental creature.

  “What?” Franca asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Franca sniffed. “Well, let’s get on with it. I helped with the other batch. Let’s finish it off. Besides, the spells have more power when more people join in.”

  “Okay.” Cassie glanced over her shoulder, waited for the next whine of the saw. She held her hands over the pot, feeling warmth leech into her palms. “Let’s start.”

  “We call upon Aphrodite, Parvati, and Isis,” they intoned in unison. “Hear the sound of my heart. Heed my call.”

  Cassie blew out her cheeks and picked up a wick. She folded the middle of the wick over her finger, then paused. “Wait. You were saying ‘hear the sound’ of your heart, not mine. Is that going to mess this up?”

  “Huh,” Franca said around a mouthful of her lunch. “We probably should have thought of that before.”

  Cassie stared at her tainted magic wax and shrugged. It couldn’t make the situation any worse. She dipped both ends of the wick into the wax, waited five seconds, then dipped the ends into a pot of cold water. She repeated the steps, watching as two tapers took shape.

  “This takes an annoyingly long time.”

  “What are you complaining about?” A bag crinkled. “I’m the one stuck here at work. Not everyone has saved up vacation time.”

  Dip, dip. “Then don’t go on vacation.”

  Franca huffed.

  Cassie’s stomach rumbled. “You’re always eating when we’re on the phone. What is it this time?” Cassie pondered what was in her fridge. She didn’t think she had many lunch makings. Maybe she and Max would go get some takeout.

  “Pizza Pringles.” Franca munched on another chip.

  “Sounds disgusting.” Cassie hung the candles over a string she’d wound around two cabinet knobs and moved a paper towel underneath to catch any drips.

  “Delicious,” Franca mumbled.

  Cassie doubted that. But pizza didn’t sound half bad for lunch. She’d have to ask Chip what kind he liked. Which meant facing him. Talking to him again.

  “Did you put your thumbprint on the wax?”

  Darn it. Cassie lifted a taper and pressed her thumb against the base. She repeated on the other candle, grateful the wax was still soft enough to take the imprint. “Done.”

  “Done with what?” a male voice asked from the entrance to the kitchen.

  Cassie spun, pressing her palm to her chest. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! You startled me.”

  “Sorry,” Chip said, not looking sorry at all. A streak of dirt crossed the right knee of his jeans. He’d unbuttoned his flannel shirt, a red one today, and his white undershirt clung to his chest in damp patches. He’d rolled the sleeves of the flannel up to reveal corded forearms dusted with dark hair.

  Cassie ignored the flutter in her stomach. “Why are you smiling?”

  “I like the idea that I can scare the scare queen.” Chip prowled to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. He bent over and gave Max a good chest rub.

  Cassie grumbled. She didn’t like that idea at all. She also wasn’t happy that she had a tendency to look like a fool in front of the man. First, choking, then falling down stairs, then almost crying on his shoulder in Bellaluna’s. She scraped the toe of her sneaker along a small crack in her porcelain tile. She’d been so angry at him last night, she’d forgotten to feel embarrassed about the bakery incident. “Uh, I was hoping to talk to you about what I said at Bellaluna’s.”

  Chip leaned a hip against the counter. “What about it?” he said quietly.

  She ran her hand along the ledge of her sink. Her feet drew her a step closer to him. Stupid feet.

  “I was hoping you’d forget the conversation happened.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged and stared at his chin. It was too hard to look into his eyes. Something in them made her feel stripped bare. “I don’t talk about my childhood. Not with anyone.”

  His chin moved closer, came to hover right in front of her.

  Chip cupped her cheek and tilted her head back until she had no choice but to look at him. “You told me, and it’s something I won’t forget. I consider it a privilege that I’m the only one who knows that secret.” His thumb brushed across the corner of her mouth. “I want to know all your secrets.”

  Cassie’s body tingled. Stupid body. She took a d
eep breath and squared her shoulders. Self-control. She had it somewhere. She just had to dig deep. Stepping back, she turned to her row of dangling candles. She knocked a dry one with her finger, setting it to swinging. “Well, thanks for your discretion.”

  She heard fabric shift. “Cassie—”

  “How’s it going outside?” She pulled a set of tapers down and lined them up on her counter. “Do you need a second pair of hands for anything?”

  He reached around her shoulder, his body curving around hers, and picked up the candles. “No, I’ve got it.”

  Cassie sidestepped away from his heat.

  He sniffed the candles. “These smell good. I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman who made her own candles.”

  “It’s a new hobby.” She snatched the candles from his hand. Chip rubbing his testosterone all over her candles for Samuel couldn’t bode well, magically speaking.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t dye them orange and black.”

  She cocked her head. That wasn’t a bad idea. There was no reason all of her candles had to be imbued with a love spell. Maybe tomorrow she’d make up a muggle batch for Halloween.

  “These are for the office. For Samuel.” She needed to drive that point home. Chip was good at making her forget her plan. The reminder was as much for herself as for him.

  His lips pressed into a white slash. “I see.” He unscrewed his bottle of water and tossed back a swallow. “You think waving sweet-smelling candles in front of him is going to change anything? If he’s such a dumbass that he hasn’t scooped you up yet, I don’t think candles are going to do the trick.” He glared at the tapers, as if they’d personally insulted him.

  She gave him back his glare and then some. “They’re just a small gift that will hopefully brighten his day.” And when the candle burned down past her thumbprint, light up his heart.

  Jeez, that sounded stupid. Even Aunt Hildy would have mocked her attempt at a love spell. Blushing, she stepped to the stove and turned off the heat. When she faced Chip again, he was still looking as grumpy as a man who’d just had his house egged by trick-or-treaters. But now his scowl was focused on the half-eaten cookie in his hand.

  The cookies she had made for Max.

  She tried to smother her laugh, and it escaped as a snort.

  “What the hell’s funny?” He swallowed his bite.

  Max planted his butt in front of Chip and whined softly.

  Chip rubbed the dog’s head and lifted the rest of the treat to his mouth.

  She shook her head. “Don’t eat that.”

  He grimaced. “Honestly, it’s not your best work, but it’s good enough.”

  “It’s also a dog biscuit.” She stepped to the cookie jar, reached inside, and tossed one in the air. Max leapt onto two legs and caught it. “I baked them for Max this morning.”

  “Oh.” He swept his tongue around his mouth and laid the treat on the island.

  “Look, I have a few things to finish up here and then I’m going to make a lunch run. Pizza okay?” she asked.

  Chip swigged the rest of his water. “Yeah, I’ll finish up what I’m working on.” He walked out and all the energy in the house seemed to go with him.

  Cassie’s shoulders curved, her chest hollowing out.

  “Well, hell’s bells.” Franca’s voice bellowed from the counter, making Cassie jump. “Seriously, what are you doing”—crunch, crunch—“wasting Nonna’s juju on Sam when there’s enough sexual tension”—crunch, crunch—“between you and Chiperoo to start a bonfire?”

  “Jeez, I forgot you were on the line.” Cassie chewed on her lip and tried to remember if she’d said anything incriminating. “And you shouldn’t talk with your mouth full.”

  “Do you know”—crunch, crunch, crunch—“how hard it was to have a canister of Pizza Pringles in front of me and not eat?” She chugged down some liquid. “I didn’t want to make any chewing sounds and spoil your moment.”

  “There was no moment. And if there had been, you should have hung up.”

  Max placed his front paws on the island and licked up Chip’s half-eaten cookie.

  Cassie frowned. “That’s the last snack for you.”

  “Uh, I’ve got half a can left.”

  “Not you, Franca.” Cassie wiped down the counter to clean the dog drool. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Wait. About this childhood secret of yours . . .”

  Cassie dropped her chin to her chest. “It’s nothing.” She shook her head. “Really, just me bitching about some tough times. Old news.”

  “Not to me.” Franca paused. “You know I will get it out of you.”

  Cassie couldn’t help but grin. Her friend would. She was as tenacious as a pit bull. And maybe opening up to her wouldn’t be so bad. It was probably time. But not today. “I’ll talk to you later. Thanks, Franca.” She disconnected. Putting down her phone, she picked up the pot of warm wax. How to dispose of it?

  “I forgot—”

  “Gah!” Cassie spun. The pot slipped against her stomach, the heated metal burning her through her shirt. She held it away, moved to settle it back on the counter, missed, and dropped the whole damn mess.

  Wax splashed across her tile floor, oozing out in every direction.

  “Damn!”

  “Are you okay?” Chip asked. He circled the island.

  “Yeah, I just need to clean it up.” She reached for a roll of paper towels. The heel of her shoe slid in the wax. Desperately, she windmilled her arms, trying to regain her balance.

  And failing.

  She went down, a wave of wax squelching out beneath her butt.

  “Cassie!” Chip darted toward her.

  She held up her hands. “No, watch—”

  His boot hit wax and skidded sideways. He crashed onto his stomach, his breath escaping him in a wheeze.

  “Out for the mess,” she finished.

  Chip did a push-up and sat back on his knees. “You’re all right?”

  “Fine. You?”

  He ran a hand down his shirt, sloughing off some wax. “Just peachy. At least I’ll smell good.”

  She pressed her lips together. He was coated, from his thighs to his chest. He looked like he’d been slimed. “It’s also good for your skin. Your hands will look ten years younger.”

  He ignored that and planted one palm on the counter and the other on the island. He pulled himself to his feet. Glancing over her shoulder, he said, “Max, don’t lick that.”

  The dog slinked away from the wax pool and lay down in front of the refrigerator.

  Cassie took Chip’s hand and let him haul her up. “If you give me your shirt and pants, I can throw them in the wash.” Her foot slid, nudging into his boot, and Chip wrapped an arm behind her, drawing her snug to his body.

  “It usually takes a little more effort from a woman to get my pants off.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

  “Uh, that was a poor choice in words.” Her breasts brushed his shirt, her breathing going choppy. An image of a pants-less Chip skirted around the edges of her mind. She leaned back over his arm, wanting to make space between them, and only managed to press her belly and parts farther south tighter to his body. She tried to inject snark into her voice, but her words came out breathy instead. “And I highly doubt that.”

  She should step back. Clean up the wax before it hardened. She didn’t move. All the parts of their bodies seemed to fit together, like a puzzle.

  Remember the plan. Remember. The. Plan. Samuel is the man. . . . Her heart stalled. She couldn’t say it anymore. Couldn’t even think it. She didn’t want Samuel to be the man meant for her.

  Chip lowered his head, his lips inches away.

  Screw the plan.

  She rolled up onto her toes and closed the distance between them.

  The kiss started out sweet, tentative even. The poor man was probably frozen in shock at her action after all the pushing away she’d done.

  He recovered quickly. His li
ps went soft beneath hers. His kiss tender.

  She wrapped her arms around his back, feeling a buzz from her lips straight down to her toes. This couldn’t have been what her mom felt, not with any of her boyfriends. Cassie had seen how they’d treated her. None of them had held her mom like she was the best gift in the world. Kissed her like she was the very oxygen he needed to breathe.

  She opened for him, and he slid his tongue inside her mouth, tasting every part of her. With a whimper, she pressed closer, wanting to crawl right inside his body.

  He gripped her butt and lifted.

  Wrapping her legs around his waist, she slanted her head and took the kiss deeper. It turned desperate, devouring, and was taking them someplace she wasn’t sure she was ready for. Especially not in her kitchen while they were both covered in wax.

  The wax.

  She yanked her head back. “Oh, crap. Put me down.”

  It took him a moment to blink the dazed look out of his eyes. “What? Are there cookies burning?”

  She wiggled, and he released her hips. She slid down his body, thought about ignoring the wax problem and picking up where they’d left off, but got a grip on herself. “Not everything’s about cookies.” The wax on the floor had hardened, and Cassie strode across it to pull a clean dishrag from a drawer. She wet it in the sink, then turned on Chip. “We need to get this wax off your skin.”

  She attacked his arm, scrubbing until his skin was pink.

  “What’s wrong with the wax?” he asked. “I thought you said it was good for my skin.”

  “Weeell . . .” The tips of her ears burned. “The wax itself is fine. But what I added to it might not be great for you.” Would a love spell for another man affect Chip? Getting the wax all over him couldn’t be good. Although the magic was supposed to happen when the candle burned down, so maybe they were safe. She’d have to call Franca to ask.

  He grabbed the towel and started scrubbing her exposed neckline. “What the hell’s in it?”

  She stopped his hand. Jeez, he was scraping her skin off like a power sander. “Nothing that would hurt me.”

  He paused. “Explain.”

  Her heart beat unnaturally loudly. This was it. Not only had Chip ruined her for Samuel, but now when he found out how strange she was, he was going to drop her, too. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Iputalovespellonthecandles. For Sam.” She screwed open one eye and prepared for his reaction.