“Oh really?” His use of the term babe grated at her nerves. Charlie suspected Cass had turned off her phone because of Brett’s incessant calling, but knew she had to offer an explanation on the spot. “Yeah, my phone is dead. I haven’t had a chance to charge it. The bakery has been nonstop.”
Brett frowned. “Hmm. Well, I don’t like not being able to get a hold of you.” Charlie gave him a wan smile, not liking his proprietary tone.
“I was going to pick us up some take-out, but it looks like you’re all set.” Brett gestured to the dishes on the table, eyebrows raised. Cass had said she and Brett had broken up, hadn’t she? So why did her sister’s ex seem to think getting take-out for the two of them made any sense?
“Yup, all set.” Charlie smiled again at Brett, then at Jake, who didn’t seem to know where to look. Then she picked up her spoon and took another bite of her chili.
“Can we talk later?” Brett said quietly to Charlie, his eyes flicking to Jake. But before she could answer, Brett’s assured smile was back. He raised a hand and waved at Darla, who was loading takeaway packages into a paper bag.
“Guess I’ll have leftovers for tomorrow,” Brett said. He put his gloves back on before taking the bag from Darla, flashing a smile that looked forced. “Enjoy your dinner, you two.”
“Will do!” Charlie said brightly. Brett stared at her a moment longer, no longer smiling. Charlie held his gaze, waiting for him to be the first to look away, which he finally did before heading back out the door.
“Well, that was awkward,” Charlie murmured.
“Look, Cass. I hope I didn’t just make things worse?” Jake said, looking sheepish. “I heard the two of you broke up, but I promise my only intention tonight was to fix your blood sugar issue.”
“It’s fine, honestly.” Charlie felt a moment of disappointment at his words, but then raised an eyebrow. “Wait . . . heard we broke up from whom?”
“Sharon, actually. I bumped into her earlier.” Jake winced slightly. “Sorry, I know it’s really none of my business.”
“Or Sharon’s,” Charlie grumbled. “And we did break up, but it seems one of us is less willing to accept it.”
Jake set his spoon down and gave her a small smile. “Hey, I know we don’t know each other all that well, but I am a great listener. At least that’s what Bonnie tells me.”
“I hope this doesn’t come out the wrong way, and thank you for the offer, but honestly? I don’t want to talk about it. I just can’t,” Charlie said. She really couldn’t talk about it, because she wasn’t sure exactly what had transpired between her sister and Brett. “So, change of topic? Anything else. Like photos for the bakery, so we can get a website up and running.”
“Absolutely,” Jake replied, seeming relieved. He pointed at her still-full pint glass. “You going to finish that?”
“Knock yourself out,” Charlie said, pushing it across the table. She clinked her water glass to the beer glass and took a sip before pulling a pen out of her purse. She felt herself unwind as they started brainstorming ideas on a napkin; Jake had lots of creative ideas, like adding links to the photographs.
“All customers will have to do is click on a dessert to order it,” he said, while she scribbled away, grateful they’d run into each other earlier. He was turning out to be an unexpected bright spot in Charlie’s turbulent last few days, and if she could keep their relationship professional everything would be fine.
Then she reached for her glass again at the same time Jake reached for his, and her fingers brushed his. A spark of electricity crackled between them, and as their eyes met Charlie knew he felt it, too. Oh no, she thought. We could have a problem here.
7
Cass
Thursday: 9 Days Until Christmas . . .
Los Angeles
Sweat trickled down the back of Cass’s fifties-style halter-neck sateen dress as she worked alongside Sydney on their recipe for the day’s Sweet & Salty challenge. Cass had arrived that morning with yet another crumpled recipe in hand—and had had to admit to her assistant that, at the moment, there was no file of recipes for the rest of the week. “I’m sorry,” Cass had said, struggling to think of a plausible excuse. “I was a little behind already, and then I got injured, and I just—I messed up. The recipes aren’t ready. We’re going to have to work on the fly until—” Until my sister finally gets back to me and sends us what we need to get through this week. “Until I get caught up. Meanwhile, I think I came up with something pretty delicious last night. And maybe we can have some fun together, being spontaneous? Like real pastry chefs?” Sydney’s smile had faltered then and Cass realized she’d said the wrong thing. “I mean—We are real pastry chefs. Just . . .”