The Bakeshop at Pumpkin and Spice Page 2

  Sofia untied her apron as she walked toward the back door of the shop. “I just have to run down to the pharmacy for a moment. I shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes. Twenty at the most.”

  “Is anything wrong?” Bree asked, concern wrinkling her brow as she was immediately pulled from her thoughts. Sofia might look and behave like a woman a good decade younger than her actual age, but time didn’t sit still. Bree had long ago promised her mother she’d keep watch over the woman they both loved so deeply, each of them knowing Sofia would never be one to complain.

  Sofia waved away Bree’s concern. “I promised Janice Powell I’d help her pick out some lipstick and nail color for the cruise Hank surprised her with on their tenth anniversary last week.” She slipped a tube of lipstick out of her purse and took a moment to refresh the pretty rose color using the tiny locket-style mirror that she’d clipped onto the cap.

  “Nice gift,” Bree said approvingly.

  “Isn’t it, though?” Sofia agreed. “He even dropped by and picked up a box of profiteroles to go with the tickets. Given this is where they first met, it was a lovely touch.”

  Bree nodded, knowing full well that the Powells were just one of the many couples who had fallen in love after meeting at Bellaluna’s Bakeshop. Their bakery had quite a reputation for that, in fact, though no one suspected there might be something more than chance at play. Sofia took a certain proprietary joy in the ongoing happiness of the couples she’d helped to match, as Bree supposed she should. What a marvelous thing it must be, to play even a small part in sparking one of the most important, magical moments in a person’s life. She carried her latest stack of bowls and spatulas to the big industrial sink, lost in her thoughts.

  “Excuse me,” came a deep voice from the doorway. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

  “I’ll be right out,” Bree said automatically without turning to look. She lowered the stack into the sink and set them down. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she added, a cheery note in her voice. She washed her hands, then looked at her grandmother as she straightened and dried them off with a fresh towel. “I’ve got it. Go on ahead. I’ll clean up back here after you return. Tell Mrs. Powell I said hello.”

  But Sofia had already stepped past her granddaughter and was waving for the gentleman to join them in the back. “Come in, come in,” Sofia said. “I’m so glad you could stop by.”

  Confused now, Bree turned as a tall man with a shock of dark curls stepped fully into the kitchen. His pale-green button-up and khaki trousers accentuated his lean, fit frame. With all those curls, though, it wasn’t until he glanced at Bree that she noticed he wore glasses. Glasses that framed the softest blue eyes she’d ever seen. She’d never thought of blue as a warm color until that moment. In fact, she felt all kinds of warmth when a slow, quiet smile curved his lips. Which was odd. Wild curls, soft eyes, and a sweet smile weren’t usually the kind of things that caught her attention where men were concerned. Well, that’s definitely not true any longer.

  “I know you told me to knock at the back door,” he said, that deep voice something of a surprise when contrasted with his low-key demeanor and studious appearance. Well, except for those curls. And who knew rimless glasses could be kind of sexy?

  Bree realized she was curling her fingers into the palm of her hand to curb the sudden desire to walk over and sink them into that riot of black silk. Maybe steam up those glasses a bit while she was at it. Which made no sense at all. She wasn’t normally taken with wild manes any more than she was button-down shirts and professorial spectacles. Maybe it was the contrast of all those things combined in one guy . . . with a voice that could seduce a nun. Or her, at least.

  “I thought it might be best to introduce myself out front,” he finished.

  Bree looked from the man to her grandmother, brow lifting in question. What was Sofia up to now? Swallowing an inward groan, Bree silently prayed this was not her grandmother’s latest setup for a date.

  “Nonsense,” Sofia told him. “We’re all shopkeepers here. And cooks, too. Kitchen is home to us, and my guess it is to you as well.” She gestured with one hand, her smile warm and sincere. “Welcome to our home.” She turned to Bree, beaming with pride. “Meet my granddaughter. Abriana Bellaluna O’Neill, my only grandchild and dearest love. Cuore mia.”

  “Nonna,” Bree whispered, a bit abashed by the grandiose introduction, though it was pure Sofia, who unapologetically wore her heart on her sleeve.

  Sofia merely smiled at Bree and said, “Abriana, this is Caleb Dimitriou. He’s taking over his uncle’s restaurant over on Vine while they are out of the country. You know George Castellanos, of course,” she went on. “Caleb is his wife Alethea’s nephew.”

  “Ah,” Bree said, and looked back at Caleb, her welcoming smile also sincere, and perhaps more than a little relieved. He was a temporary guest, so this wasn’t a setup. “Welcome to Moonbright. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I hope your aunt and uncle are okay and it’s a pleasure trip?” She glanced at Sofia again with a questioning look. It was unusual in a town their size that she hadn’t heard this news already.

  “They’re fine,” Caleb responded. “Thank you for asking.” His smile broadened just enough to add a bit of a twinkle to his eyes.

  Bree felt herself all but leaning toward him, as if invited to join in whatever might be behind that sudden infusion of affectionate amusement. Get a grip, she silently schooled herself, wondering what on earth had gotten into her. The guy was talking about his aunt and uncle, for goodness sake. Not coming on to her. Tell that to your parts that are ready, willing, and oh so very able if he suddenly decides to do just that.

  “It is,” he replied. “A long-awaited one. Their honeymoon, actually.” At her surprised look, he added, “They married young and didn’t have the means then. As you probably know, my aunt and uncle never had children of their own, so work was pretty much their passion as well. They each love what they do for a living.” His expression warmed. “Of course, Uncle George believes that working hard at something you love is its own reward. My aunt Alethea, however, feels that you should love your work, yes, but should be working toward the reward. Eventually she got George to agree that as soon as one or the other of them was able to retire, she’d finally get her honeymoon. George promised they’d go to Greece for an extended holiday. See family on both sides, explore, relax for once.”

  “Alethea retired last month,” Sofia told Bree, “after more than thirty-five years as a nurse.” She beamed at Caleb. “Long overdue, but something of a surprise, too. At least to her closest friends. She never mentioned she’d made the decision, just announced one day when we were playing cards that she’d already up and done it. I’m so glad George was able to live up to his end of their little bargain.” She glanced at Bree, then back to Caleb. “And I’m so pleased you were able to come.”

  “It’s really nice that you’re able to do that for them,” Bree said. “I’m sure they both appreciate it a great deal. So, you’re here temporarily, then?” She’d included that last part for Sofia’s benefit. She hadn’t missed her grandmother’s glance between them and didn’t need her getting any ideas.

  “Our family is a bit sprawling,” Caleb replied. “We don’t see each other as often as we’d like.” His smile was back, with a flash of white teeth this time. “Which might be a good thing. We can be rather, uh, boisterous.”

  Even that brief flash made her heart flutter . . . and a few other places as well. Bree told herself it was the love and respect that shone from his eyes when he spoke of his family. She identified strongly with that deep, familial bond. Surely that was the reason for this over-the-top reaction she was having to him. Uh-huh.

  “I come from a long line of chefs,” he went on, then looked to Sofia. “Cooks,” he amended with a smile. “You are right about kitchens being our home. Not even our second home where some of us are concerned,” he added, that twinkle flickering again. “My siblings and I spend more time at the restaurant t
han we do anywhere else. My sister actually lives above our restaurant. She converted what used to be unused storage space into a pretty decent apartment.” He flashed a full-on grin then. “We’ve all been known to bunk up there from time to time.”

  “You’ve got feeding people in your blood,” Sofia said, “so of course that is home for you.” She nodded, as if that were that. And for Sofia and Bree, it was. Caleb, too, so it seemed.

  Bree had just never really thought of it like that before. At the moment she was still busy being blindsided by the transformation to his handsome face when he grinned like that. She hadn’t expected to see such strong hints of alpha hidden behind those rimless spectacles and sweet smile.

  Caleb had also nodded in agreement with Sofia’s proclamation, and Bree noticed his shoulders relaxed a bit, as did his stance, as if he’d found his people. She understood that, too. She could walk into any kitchen and feel at home. Finding someone who shared her feelings and connection to both family and food was new, though.

  “We’ve got chefs and restaurant owners in pretty much every branch of our family tree,” Caleb said. “Our crazy hours make traveling to see each other a challenge, but for something like this, you find a way.”

  “How long are George and Alethea planning to be gone?” Bree asked, telling herself she was staying on that topic just to make certain Sofia would see, unequivocally, that nothing could happen between them. Mmm-hmm.

  “They’ve planned for a six-week stay,” he replied.

  “Wow,” Bree said, having assumed it would be for a week or two at the most. “That sounds pretty wonderful.” And far, far too long to chance seeing you around town. If she was reacting to this simple introduction like a woman starved for a little attention, she didn’t want to contemplate how she’d handle repeated exposure.

  “When you’ve waited as long as they have for a honeymoon, it seems about right,” he said with sincere affection, his gaze then shifting exclusively to her.

  “You’re doing a really nice thing for them,” Bree said, trying not to sound breathless. He might look professorial with that mane and those glasses, but that deep blue gaze didn’t feel remotely. . . academic.

  Sofia walked over to him. “George tells me you and your siblings have built up quite the place in Philadelphia. Coming all this way for such a long period couldn’t have been easy to arrange.” She took his hand and covered it with her own, giving him a pat. “You’re good to your family,” she said. “That’s a lovely thing. They must be very proud of you.”

  Bree watched as a light flush crept into Caleb’s cheeks, his expression a bit abashed. She wouldn’t have thought a man blushing at a simple compliment would make her pulse thrum. Somehow, on Caleb Dimitriou, it was both a little endearing and a whole lot sexy.

  “It wasn’t a sacrifice,” Caleb assured her. “There are four of us running Dimi’s. My two older brothers, myself, and my baby sister, who, more often than not, is off on one of her learning expeditions. She’s been in Africa for the past month or so. We’re well used to handling things.”

  “Africa,” Sofia said, not looking too surprised.

  “She knows a little something about having a wanderer in the family,” Bree explained. “My mom and dad are in the Galapagos Islands. My dad is taking pictures for his next book, and my mom is getting inspiration for her next series of watercolors.”

  Caleb’s eyes widened at that. “That sounds pretty amazing. Is that her work I saw on the walls out in the shop? They’re quite striking.”

  “It is,” Bree answered proudly, pleased he’d noticed the watercolors on his walk-through. “And thank you, she’d be pleased to hear you say that. She has pieces in the local gallery here in town, as well as galleries in several major cities. In fact, it was her art that first caught my father’s eye.”

  “Another Moonbright love story,” Caleb said with a smile. At Bree’s look of surprise, he said, “I’ve heard it’s something of a tradition here. I can understand it. It’s a picture postcard little town, and the ocean views are pretty spectacular.” That twinkle returned to his eyes. “I can think of worse places to fall in love.”

  Bree’s mouth suddenly went dry, and she had to swallow several times before she could continue. Who knew soft curls, a sweet smile, and cornflower blue eyes could be so lethal? “My, ah, my parents would certainly agree with you. My dad was here on a magazine assignment, actually, and saw her work at the local gallery. He tracked her to the bakeshop.” Bree’s smile returned naturally then and spread to a happy grin. “And the rest, as they say, is history. They’ve both gone on to achieve a lot in their fields.” She flushed and let out a short laugh. “Sorry, I don’t get to brag on them all that often. Everyone in town knows how amazing they are. We’re all really proud of them.”

  “As you should be,” Caleb said. “My parents are both gone now, so you’re very fortunate.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Bree said.

  “It was a long time ago, but they were pretty wonderful, too. It’s nice to hear someone brag on their folks. I think, too often, people are so focused on their own lives, they kind of forget or take for granted the treasure they have in family. It’s great that the two of you get to work together.” He caught her gaze again, and Bree swore she saw something flicker to life in his eyes when he looked at her now, as if he’d just made yet another kind of connection.

  Oh, that’s not good, she thought, most especially because it felt really good. Stop talking. They both needed to stop talking. Stop connecting. And still their gazes lingered. Yeah, maybe it was too late for that.

  “My brother Matteo paints,” Caleb said, somewhat suddenly, as if he, too, had lost his train of thought while looking into her eyes. “Which would surprise you if you met him,” he added, his smile returning. “I’m in continual awe at what he can do with a brush, a set of kid’s paints, and a cup of water.” Caleb shifted his gaze to encompass them both, and Bree felt as if she’d been released from a physical embrace. His abashed smile returned. “I’m lucky if I can paint a wall without getting the stuff on everything.”

  Bree raised her hand. “I’m a lifetime member of that club.” They both laughed at that, and she liked his deep rumble and the direct way he caught and held her gaze again. She was utterly confused by all the things he was so effortlessly riling up inside her, but that didn’t stop her from staring right back.

  “Do you have the wanderlust, Caleb?” Sofia wanted to know, looking between the two, her gaze openly considering now.

  “Nonna,” Bree said in a hushed tone. Sofia merely continued smiling at Caleb.

  He responded easily. “Sometimes I’ve thought it would be nice to just hop on a plane or a boat and see some new part of the world. Cassi’s been begging me for years. My sister, Cassandra,” he added by way of explanation, then shook his head. “But for me? To be honest, I’m happiest in a kitchen.”

  “That’s exactly me, only with my mom and dad,” Bree heard herself say. “They’ve barely unpacked and they’re already planning their next trip. I’m twenty-nine and I think I’ve finally gotten them to stop hoping I’ll go along with them.” Stop flirting!

  “My sister would love them,” Caleb said with a chuckle.

  “We should introduce them,” Bree said, sharing his laugh. “She might be the daughter they’ve always wanted. Me, I’m like you. Give me a kitchen, and I’m at home.” She looked around the room. “This is right where I want to be.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. His smile deepened, and that spark of love and affection was back in his eyes when he added, “Surrounded by my loud, wonderful, crazy, big family, laughing together, sometimes yelling at each other, feeding people, seeing them content. That’s where I’m meant to be.”

  Exactly, Bree thought, and sighed. So very exactly.

  Sofia beamed at Caleb. “I can’t think of a better recipe for a good life.” She looked at Bree. “And you are right, I’ve been blessed with a family who has a passion for my passion, so my life is
full.”

  “We’re not all that loud,” Bree added with an affectionate smile of her own, “but we laugh often, and I like to think our customers feel that same kind of contentment.” She nodded. “That’s a good way to describe it. Contentment. That’s what I want them to feel when they’re here. Hopefully it stays with them when they’re enjoying our pastries and cookies and cakes at home.”

  Sofia eyed the two again, then said, “Speaking of our wonderful cakes and cookies, where are my manners?” She turned and picked up an iced cookie from one of the racks. “Here,” she said, handing it to Caleb. “You’ll see for yourself what a magician my granddaughter is with some butter and Italian cream.”

  “Wait, no!” Bree said, but it took her a beat too long to shift gears from losing herself in his gaze to preventing her grandmother from handing him what was absolutely the worst thing she’d ever created. He was already taking a bite. “They’re really not good,” she told him, grabbing a handful of napkins, mortified.

  His eyes widened in disbelief as he chewed.

  “Here,” Bree said, all but thrusting the napkins at him. “I’m so sorry. She didn’t know.”

  Rather than take the napkins, Caleb swallowed his bite and looked at the cookie in wonder. “Not good?” He studied the cookie much as she had just minutes before, but in awe rather than in frustration. He took another bite and closed his eyes. “I’ve never tasted anything like this.” When he opened them again, his gaze went straight to Bree, wonder and appreciation clearly there for her to see. “What did you put in these? They’re incredible.”

  Bree’s mouth dropped open, then snapped shut again as a feeling of dread washed through her. She turned to her grandmother. “Nonna, you didn’t,” she said on a hushed whisper.

  Her grandmother gave a slight shake of her head, a merry twinkle of delight shining from her eyes. Looking inordinately proud, she said, “No, cuore mia. You did.”