“It’s critical for my mom to have something to return to when she recovers. We have to make this work,” Logan said.

“Yes, we do,” Caroline said. Logan’s determination was contagious. Strange, the compassionate and purposeful man she’d faced today didn’t fit with the image she’d had of him any more than his broad shoulders and toned arms matched the boy she used to know.

Maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did, she acknowledged with a sheepish smile. But when he grinned back at her, his trademark dimples popping on his cheeks, Caroline’s breath caught, and a ticklish feeling settled inside her belly.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded. But was she really okay? Something had to be wrong with her if she was reacting so strangely to Logan Warren. She wasn’t usually fazed by any man, let alone a player with boyish charm and movie-star good looks. Hadn’t she learned her lesson about men like him a long time ago?

DANA CORBIT

started telling “people stories” at about the same time she started forming words. So it came as no surprise when the Indiana native chose a career in journalism. As an award-winning newspaper reporter and features editor, she had the opportunity to share wonderful true-life stories with her readers. She left the workforce to be a homemaker, but the stories came home with her as she discovered the joy of writing fiction. The winner of the 2007 Holt Medallion competition for novel writing, Dana feels blessed to share the stories of her heart with readers.

Dana lives in southeast Michigan, where she balances the make-believe realm of her characters with her equally exciting real-life world as a wife, carpool coordinator for three athletic daughters and food supplier for two disinterested felines.

Wedding Cake Wishes
Dana Corbit

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.

—Ecclesiastes 3:1

To all teachers who recognize and nurture their students’ special gifts. Especially to my sixth-grade teacher, Alyce Stewart, who celebrated my love for words in front of the whole class, and to my high school newspaper adviser, Linda Donelson Spicer, who saw potential in me that I didn’t recognize in myself. Your impact on my life and on those of your other students has been immeasurable.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

“We’re not open.”

Logan Warren tried to keep frustration from his voice. Someone had left the front door of Amy’s Elite Treats unlocked, and now he would have to face his first customer before he’d even located the cake order forms. He almost asked himself if the day could get any worse, but the last week had proven to him that any day could. And had.

A few headaches at his mother’s bakery were nothing, anyway, when compared to what Amy Warren was facing. Her image slipped into his thoughts. His mom looked so different lying in that hospital bed. The stroke had ravaged her body and stripped her face of expression.

Logan squeezed his lids shut and took a deep breath. She would survive—he realized how blessed his family was—but nothing could remove the mammoth lump in his throat, choking him from the inside out. He’d made a mistake in coming here this morning. He should have stayed at Markston Area Regional Hospital, continuing to keep vigil with his brothers. He should—

Logan stopped himself. She needed him at the bakery, too. Someone had to keep the business running for her. He’d been desperate to do something. Anything. It didn’t matter that his mother made her living making wedding cakes and he didn’t even believe in marriage. Running her bakery was one thing he could do.

Continuing past the huge ovens and industrial-sized mixers, he pushed through the swinging door to the dining area where bright May sunshine already poured into the store’s windows.

“I’m sorry. We’re not—” The word “open” fell away before he could speak it. “Caroline?”

Sure enough, the woman standing in the shop’s doorway, finger-combing her mass of chestnut-colored hair, was Caroline Scott. He would have recognized her anywhere, even if her two younger sisters didn’t happen to be engaged to, or married to, his two older brothers. And even if her high cheekbones and full lips didn’t brand her as one of the Scott sisters.

She shoved all that hair behind her ears and lifted her gaze to meet his. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hello?” The word came out sounding like a question because it was one. He rounded the counter to face the woman whose presence was no less perplexing than the unlocked door had been. Chicago was four hours from here. Would she have come all the way to Markston, Indiana, just to visit his mother at the hospital?

“You didn’t say why…” Letting his words trail off, he indicated the room with a sweep of his hand.

“Oh, why am I here?”

Instead of answering his question, she stepped around the room, looking at the ice cream parlor tables and bakery cases as if they were the most interesting things she’d ever seen.

Now she really had him curious, even more so than when he’d been a nosy ten-year-old boy studying the older woman of fourteen. Caroline wasn’t even the most beautiful among the lovely Scott sisters, but she was hands down the most intriguing. Even at twenty-eight, that hadn’t changed. She had the most fascinating eyes, the darkest blue and almost impossible to read.

Those eyes turned back to him now and widened before she found something important to study on the tile floor. What was he doing staring at her, anyway? He had too much on his plate right now to be looking at any pretty woman, let alone Caroline Scott. Unavailable didn’t begin to describe how out of the dating market her mother had said she’d been for years.

“This place looks great,” she said, still not looking at him. “It’s changed since the last time I was here.”

“It’s been a while.”

“I guess it has.”

She chuckled, gripping her hands together in a gesture that seemed uncharacteristic for the take-charge Caroline he remembered. Come to think of it, many things about Caroline were different today. She wore jeans and a T-shirt when she was usually a khakis-and-sweater-set type, and her hair was loose down her back instead of in its usual too-tight bun. Where were the intensity and confidence she usually exuded like perfume?

“You know, we don’t open for another two hours,” he said to fill the awkward silence. “Someone must have forgotten to lock the door—”

She dangled the keys in front of her to explain how she happened to be inside the building. The door hadn’t been left unlocked after all.

“I don’t understand.” And then he did. At least he thought he did. “They couldn’t have.”

But because it was entirely possible that his mother and Mrs. Scott had been up to another one of their schemes, Logan rolled his eyes. The two best friends were notorious matchmakers who’d had this crazy idea of arranging marriages between Trina Scott’s three daughters and Amy Warren’s three sons. Crazy like a fox maybe. Because God had a sense of humor, their matchmaking plans hadn’t turned out exactly as they’d expected, but they could still claim two successes. Matthew and Haley were happily married, and Dylan and Jenna were engaged.

Could his mother and Mrs. Scott have planned a ruse to bring their last two single children together and have forgotten to cancel it in the chaos following his mother’s stroke?

“Oh, I don’t think—” She stopped herself, but her cheeks flamed a pretty pink.

“It shouldn’t surprise us, you know.”

Caroline stared back at him. He knew he should look away, but he couldn’t. Though he had yet to turn on the overhead lights, electricity filled the room. From the way her pupils enlarged and she chewed her bottom lip, he could tell that she sensed it, too.

“Logan, that’s not why I’m here.”

“What?” He blinked, trying to clear his thoughts.

She worked the keys between her fingers. “Mom asked me to help you run the bakery until your mother gets better.”

“Right. I knew that.” He swallowed, trying to look as natural as possible for a guy who’d just made a fool of himself. That was what he got for letting a pretty woman distract him from more important matters.

“You didn’t think…?”

“Of course not.” But he had thought Mrs. Scott and his brothers supported his offer to run the bakery alone, and he’d been wrong about that, too. “Our mothers would know better than to try that matchup. City-girl corporate climber with Nature Boy, as you’ve called me?”

She chewed her lip, but she didn’t snap at the bait as he would have expected. Witty banter was standard fare in their two families.

“They should know better.” She breathed an audible sigh of relief. “I promised to put myself up for adoption if they ever even thought about trying to set me up again. After being set up with both of your brothers, I’ve hit my lifetime quota.”

She was agreeing with him, but her apparent relief that their mothers weren’t matchmaking annoyed him. The look between them that she’d made no effort to break, the black of her pupils as they’d stretched over her blue irises. Since when did he misread the signals of attraction, anyway? Usually his instincts with women were spot-on—and he’d dated enough of them to know—so it baffled him that this time he’d read the signs all wrong.

As if she’d already forgotten the uncomfortable moment, Caroline stepped toward the display case again and studied the price list on the wall. “We’ll have this place in shape in no time.”

Logan sighed. Wasn’t it enough that he’d practically had to arm-wrestle his brothers, a pregnant sister-in-law and a future sister-in-law for the opportunity to run the bakery? It exhausted him to think that Mrs. Scott’s other daughter was going to argue with him over the job, as well.

“Look, I appreciate your coming all the way from Chicago, but I have things under control here.”

He expected an argument, so her sad expression surprised him.

“I was sorry to hear about your mom’s…illness.”

“Stroke,” he corrected.

“Right. Stroke.” She winced at the word. “Mrs. Warren’s an amazing lady. I’m sure she’ll be just fine.”

“Thanks.”

The tears in her eyes convinced him not to mention the long rehabilitation his mother had ahead. It touched him that Caroline seemed to really care about his mother. And even if what she’d said was a platitude like those so many others had spoken this past week, he desperately wanted to believe she was right. He just wanted his mother back.

“Well, you’ll probably want to get to the hospital for visiting hours. Mom will love seeing you.” He paused, searching for the right words to show her he appreciated her compassion even if he didn’t need her help. “Would you like me to call your mother and let her know you’re coming?”

“But my mom said—”

Because she stopped herself, Logan guessed he wouldn’t appreciate whatever her mother really had said. “Caroline, I’m sorry you went to so much trouble, taking off work and all to come here—”

“It wasn’t any trouble.”

Clearly, she wasn’t going to make this easy. He cleared his throat. “Anyway…I hate that you’ve wasted your time, but your mother must have misunderstood what we needed here. I already took leave from my job, and I want to do this for Mom.”

“Since we’re both here, why don’t we work together?”

“Together? Like a team?” He tilted his head to study her. “I hate to tell you this, but you’re not the best team player. You have to be captain or camp counselor or even head honcho like you are at that mega-mall.”

She coughed into her hand. “I’ll just stay until you get your sea legs. That would be okay, wouldn’t it?”

Logan stared at her. “Why are you insisting on this? Your mother probably had to beg you to take off time from work, and now I’m letting you off the hook.”

“I don’t need to be let off the hook. I’m letting you off the hook. Isn’t this messing with your busy social calendar, anyway?”

“Nothing could be more important than this,” he said. “How did you get time off, anyway? Your mom’s always complaining that you hardly ever can get away from work.”

“Well, I did this time,” she said and then cleared her throat. “And I happen to have a lot of experience with running a business. You know, purchase orders and employee benefits and such. Just like you have in your type of job. All the outdoorsy stuff you do as Ranger Logan.”

Logan couldn’t keep his jaw from tightening, but this wasn’t the time for him to clear up her confusion about his job because he had a more important point to make. “So, exactly how many wedding cakes have you made?”

“Uh…none.”

“Just as many as I have.”

This time she rolled her eyes at him just the way she used to when they were kids and he told one of his knock-knock jokes. “You don’t have to be able to decorate the cakes to run this kind of business.”

Logan tapped an index finger against his cheek. “So I should do just fine by myself.”

“Why are you being so stubborn? You’re being just like you were when you were six, and you didn’t want to wait for your turn for board games. It’s almost June, the biggest wedding month of the year in Markston, and you’re wasting time arguing with me instead of working with me.”

She took a few steps toward him, pinning him with a look that would have made him straighten up and fly right when he was a kid. But because they were adults now and he towered over her, Logan only stared her down.

“Yes, I know what June is.” He didn’t try to hide his irritation. “I’ve been around this business a long time. You’re wasting my time when I need to be getting up to speed on things. I told Mom I would do this, and I’m going to do it…alone.”

She fisted her hands at her sides. “You must be the most infuriating person who ever lived.”

“No, I think there are two of us.”

“I think you’re both right.”

At the sound of the third voice, Logan turned to look at the glass door that Caroline had unlocked. Trina Scott stood just inside it, her crossed arms over her chest.

Logan sighed. None of the employees had even arrived, and it was already looking as if he wasn’t cut out for the job he’d promised to do. But his brothers, Mrs. Scott and even Caroline were wrong to doubt him. Somehow, with God’s help, he planned to make this work.

Caroline stared at the floor avoiding her mother’s gaze, her cheeks burning. She was so shaken that several seconds had passed before her pulse slowed. It didn’t make sense. In the business world, she’d always been cooler than a cucumber on ice. No one had been able to get a rise out of her. Now, infuriatingly stubborn Logan Warren had done it without breaking a sweat.

Why couldn’t he just be gracious and accept the help he so obviously needed? In a bakery, a park ranger would be like a bull in a china shop anyway. But instead of being grateful for her offer, he’d insisted on asking questions about why she had the free time to come to Markston.

She’d hoped in the confusion regarding his mother’s health crisis that no one would have time to wonder about her sudden availability. She hadn’t expected Logan Warren to be the observant type, but nearly as soon as he’d seen her, he’d zeroed in on the point she’d most hoped to hide.

What surprised her even more was she’d been tempted to share her whole humiliating story with him. Something about the way he’d studied her with those bright green, penetrating eyes had made her wonder if he could see how lost she felt. Maybe he understood because they shared that feeling of uncertainty in common.

“Will one of you explain what’s going on here?”

Her mother’s words pulled Caroline back from her strange thoughts. Where had they come from, anyway? Logan had enough on his mind with his own family crisis for him to concern himself with her problems. And for her to imagine that she had anything in common with ne’er-do-well Logan Warren demonstrated just how off-kilter she’d been the last few days.

“It was nothing,” Logan answered for the both of them. “Just a disagreement.”

“I can see that.” Trina tucked her chin-length brown hair behind her ears with all the care of someone who had a huge mane of it—or someone waiting for a better answer.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Caroline asked.

“Refereeing apparently. I had hoped you two would work this out together, but…”

That her mother was standing inside the bakery rather than the hospital’s critical care unit made it clear she hadn’t trusted the two of them to find a way to work together.

“Sorry, Mom.”

“I’m sorry, too.” As Logan bent his head, his light brown hair fell across his eyes. “I know you were trying to help when you called Caroline, but—”

Trina shook her head to interrupt him. “Logan, stop right there. Your mother’s facing the crisis of her life, and all you can do is spend time arguing about whether you need my daughter’s help at the bakery?”

“I’m not trying to upset you, Mrs. Scott, but I have this under control. I already took leave from work.” He gestured toward Caroline. “We don’t both need to lose time at our jobs during Mom’s recovery.”

“That won’t be a problem.” Trina glanced sidelong at her daughter. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

With heat scaling her neck and face, Caroline shook her head.

Her always matter-of-fact mother took a step toward Logan. “Because of the current economic downturn, investors pulled the financial backing on the Ultimate Center, and the whole project for the mega-mall that Caroline managed folded.”

“You lost your job?”

Caroline looked up to find Logan watching her. She pressed her lips together and nodded.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks.” His compassionate tone made her shift where she stood. Vulnerability was a new feeling for her, and she doubted she would ever wear it well.

“As soon as Caroline told me what had happened at work, I knew this would be perfect. God definitely has a plan here.”

“God wanted your daughter to lose her job?” The side of Logan’s mouth lifted.

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Trina waved away his usual attempt to be a class clown with a brush of her hand. “So it appears that you’re both available to work here, at least for a while. And it’s going to take both of you.”

He appeared to consider what she’d said. “Go on.”

“Okay, Logan, your heart was in the right place when you volunteered to run the bakery, but you don’t have any business experience. Caroline has that, so it’s a blessing that she also has an abundance of free time right now.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Caroline slid a glance Logan’s way and was relieved he wasn’t watching her now. Her mother had managed to praise and offend both of them at the same time.

“Just telling it like it is.” Trina held her hands wide. “And, Caroline, though you have more business experience than he does, Logan is more invested in this business than you are. He’ll do whatever it takes to make sure the bakery survives.”

“She’s right,” Logan said. “I will.”

“Even if that means putting up with my daughter being here to do it.”

Logan opened his mouth, but he must not have been able to argue with that logic because he closed it and nodded. “Mom needs to have something to return to when she recovers. No matter what, we have to make this work…for her,” he said after a moment.

“Yes, we do,” Caroline agreed. The vehemence in her voice startled her, but she couldn’t help it. His determination was contagious. Strange, the compassionate and purposeful man she’d faced today didn’t fit with the image she’d had of Logan any more than his broad shoulders and toned, tanned arms, clearly of a man who worked with his hands, matched those of the boy she used to know.

She smiled to herself as she realized that maybe she didn’t know him as well as she’d thought. But when he grinned back at her, his trademark dimples popping on his cheeks, Caroline’s breath caught, and a ticklish feeling settled inside her belly.

“Are you all right, sweetheart?”

“What?” Caroline jerked, caught daydreaming for the second time in a single conversation.

“Are you going to be okay to handle this project?”

“Of course I will.”

But was she really okay? Something had to be wrong with her if she was reacting so strangely to Logan. She usually didn’t let any man faze her. Certainly not a guy who was four years younger than she was. Absolutely not a player with boyish charm and movie-star good looks. Hadn’t she learned her lesson about men like Logan Warren a long time ago?

She pushed away painful, private memories with a shake of her head. Whatever was going on inside her, it had to stop right now. She’d just promised to help Logan learn to run his mother’s business, and she couldn’t do that if she allowed herself to be distracted. The answer to that challenge was simple: in order to help the baker, all she had to do was to ignore the baker’s son.

She peeked at Logan again and this time found him watching her, seeing too much. Swallowing hard, she looked away. She realized with a shock that ignoring Logan Warren would be easier said than done.

Chapter Two

Caroline glanced up from the drawer where she’d been mentally cataloging baking tools only to find that the two cake decorators she’d met earlier were studying her just as intently.

“You’re Trina Scott’s daughter, aren’t you?” the redhead named Margie asked, squinting as if she hadn’t quite placed her.

“Yes, I am.”

Come to think of it, Logan had introduced Caroline only by her first name when he’d updated the staff on his mother’s condition and on changes at the bakery. After that, he’d slipped off to his mother’s office with the excuse of learning the accounting software. Well, at least one of them could avoid curious glances from the staff.

Figuring it was time to take charge, Caroline stepped toward the stainless-steel counter where the women sat on stools, working on their masterpieces. “Do you know my mother?”

The women looked at each other and laughed.

“Do we know her mother?” Margie asked her cohort as she spread chocolate buttercream frosting over a sheet cake.

Their laughter was enough to make a person nervous.

The stout brunette named Kamie paused from her task of stretching a sugar dough called fondant over a three-layer yellow cake. “Even if we didn’t already know Trina since…oh…second grade, we would have known her from here at the shop.”

“Oh. Right.”

Her mother probably spent more than her share of time at Mrs. Warren’s business since moving back to Markston. Caroline could only hope that it hadn’t been so much time that she had been tempted to share family stories.

Margie shook her frosting-covered spatula at Caroline. “You’re the one who’s decided not to marry.”

“I—” Caroline frowned. Definitely too many stories. She needed to establish professional employer-employee boundaries with the staff here…and fast.

“You sure messed with your mother’s and Amy’s matchmaking plans before they realized they were targeting the wrong bride,” Kamie said, chuckling. “But they figured it out, didn’t they? They got your sisters matched up just right.”

Her face felt like it was on fire. She needed no reminders of those humiliating matchmaking events, where the two moms had tried to set her up first with Matthew and then with Dylan. It didn’t matter that she’d never planned to marry or even that she was thrilled that both of her sisters had found love. She still couldn’t help feeling sensitive over all of that rejection.

The decorators were staring at her, curiosity painted all over their faces. If someone asked her if she was married to her career, Caroline was sure she would die of embarrassment. What was she supposed to say now? That she and her career had divorced? It wasn’t anyone’s business, any more than anyone needed to know that her choice not to date was less about her feminist leanings and more about a broken heart.

Caroline braced herself, waiting, but the two women were suddenly studying something behind her. She didn’t have to turn to know that Logan was back there, witnessing the whole humiliating exchange. The tingling at the back of her neck gave her enough of a hint.

“Just thought I’d check in and see how the cakes were coming along.”

Logan leaned against the wall just inside the kitchen doorway, his arms crossed. His words were innocuous, but his jaw was tight, and his fingers pressed too tightly into the snug-fitting cuffs of his short-sleeve polo shirt. His words were layered with meaning, as well. It couldn’t have been clearer that he thought the decorators should spend more time decorating cakes and less time looking for information on Caroline’s personal life.

Margie must have gotten the message because she bristled. “They’re coming along just fine, Mister Warren.”

“Well, that’s great to hear, Margie.” He put as much emphasis on her first name as the decorator had on his title since she’d avoided using his given name. “We’ll all have our work cut out for us with Mom out of commission.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Kamie said in a banal tone.

Caroline couldn’t help staring at Logan. Had he really just stepped in to defend her? Inexplicably, a memory from last Christmas sneaked into her thoughts. It was one of Logan with chilly rain plastering his flannel shirt to the wide expanse of his back as he hefted an ax to take down his mother’s massive Christmas tree.

What was wrong with her? She couldn’t be flattered that he’d come to her rescue when she had every right to be offended. She was no damsel in distress any more than Logan was a knight in shining armor. Or Paul Bunyan.

“Things are going great out here,” Caroline said to fill the uncomfortable silence. “How’s everything in the back office?”

“It’s a slow start, but I’ll figure it out.”

The two women, who seemed to be making a point of not looking at Logan, exchanged a look.

“Of course you will,” Caroline couldn’t help saying. Whether Logan should have stepped into the conversation or not, she could see that it had put him in an uncomfortable position with two of the employees on the first day. The least she could do was be gracious over his sacrifice if he would have to deal with that awkwardness. “There’s a learning curve to working with new software.”

“Hopefully, the hill won’t be too steep. I didn’t bring my climbing gear.” He chuckled at his own joke though no one else joined him.

“You know I could give you a few pointers—”

Logan raised his hand to stop her. “Thanks, but I’ll figure it out.” He turned back to the employees. “Well, carry on, ladies.”

Without waiting for a response, he returned to the office but closed the door only halfway.

“Sorry if we were too…er…invasive,” Kamie said as soon as he was gone, and her partner nodded her agreement.

“Thanks.” Caroline almost wished they’d apologized to Logan instead.

“We’ve just heard so much about your two families since your mom moved back to Markston that it’s hard not to get caught up in the stories,” Margie said with a shrug. “Especially the matchmaking part.”

Caroline slid a glance toward the open office door, from where Logan had to be able to hear the conversation. Whether he’d denied it or not, he’d guessed that their mothers had been trying another one of their matchmaking ambushes. Could he have been right? She hated admitting that she suspected it, too, but she hated even more that her palms dampened at just the thought of it.

“Well, it’s good that you’ll be here helping Logan,” Margie began again. “He’ll need it.”

Again, Caroline’s gaze darted toward that open door, and she was even sorrier this time that Logan could overhear them. Okay, she’d doubted his abilities herself when her mother had said he would be operating the bakery during his mother’s recovery, but she hated that no one seemed to be in his court.

“Logan would have had this place in shipshape in no time. With or without any help.”

“Of course,” Kamie said.

Her comment must have surprised the women as much as it had Caroline because both gave her guarded looks before turning back to their cakes. She told herself her small show of support was only to help Logan establish himself in a position of authority so he could manage the business. At least, that was the only way she could explain it.

Caroline returned to her own task of familiarizing herself with the kitchen tools. After she closed the last drawer, she glanced up at the clock and stepped down the hall to the office. Through the crack in the door, she could see Logan crouched over his mother’s laptop and tapping keys at an angry pace. He must have sensed her presence, because he turned back to her.

“Do you need something?”

“I was going to offer again to help you out with that software program.”

The side of his mouth lifted. “No. Really. I’m good. If I don’t figure it out soon, I’ll call for help.”

“Okay, I guess,” she said.

Caroline didn’t even know why she was belaboring the point other than that she felt indebted to Logan. First, he’d taken pity on her and agreed to work with her after he’d learned about her joblessness, and then he’d come to her rescue with the busybodies. She wasn’t used to feeling beholden to anyone, and it didn’t sit well.

She had to make it up to him; that was all there was to it. She would already have done that if he would only allow her to give him a computer mini-course.

Well, she would just have to find another way to return his favor. Maybe she could teach him how to do inventory lists or complete supply order forms. She didn’t care if she had to learn to operate the giant mixers just so she could teach him how to mix up a yellow cake batter. In the next few days, she would find something to do so she could settle her debt to Logan Warren.

“Well, that’s just not good enough.”

The sound of the screeching female voice reached Caroline’s ears the moment she stepped inside after her quick lunch trip home to drop off her luggage. She’d been sure that when she returned to the bakery wearing her business-casual ensemble of black slacks and a crisp white blouse the rest of the day would be a breeze. Wrong.

“I don’t want one wedding cake,” the woman continued, her voice still a few decibels above a speaking voice. “I want each of my guests to have an individual cake.”

“Of course,” Logan said in an unnatural-sounding voice. “Multiple cakes do make a statement, but I’m not sure, based on the budget you’ve just presented me, that they would be the best choice.”

Caroline cringed as she hung up her purse on the hook next to Logan’s black leather jacket and motorcycle helmet. She hurried into the kitchen, where several employees were crowded near the swinging door. Had Logan never heard of the business adage, “the customer is always right”?

Since none of the employees were bothering to hide the fact that they were eavesdropping, Caroline didn’t pretend, either. She leaned close and spoke out the side of her mouth. “What’s going on out there?”

“Just another Bridezilla with big ideas and too small a wedding budget,” Margie told her.

“Why isn’t anyone helping him?” But as soon as she asked it, Caroline realized she didn’t want anyone else to do so. She’d been looking for a way to repay Logan for stepping to her defense earlier, and this was perfect. She knew how to appease irate customers with her eyes closed and both hands tied behind her back.

Squeezing past the decorators and two cake bakers, she pushed the swinging door open. Through the glass in the bakery counter, she could see Logan seated across from the furious bride-to-be.

“Well, you’d better find a way to make it happen, or I’ll be taking my business elsewhere. Amy’s isn’t the only bakery in town, you know.”

Certain the deal was heading south faster than a flight from Indianapolis to Orlando, Caroline skirted around the counter and hurried toward the table where Logan sat, staring down at the price binder instead of at his customer.

He looked up and lifted a hand to stop Caroline, but she ignored him. He might not be happy about this now, but he would thank her later when she saved him from losing a customer on his first day at work.

“What Logan was about to say is that we at Amy’s Elite Treats would be delighted to work with you to make a cake or cakes that will meet all of your needs and impress your wedding guests.”

As the young bride looked up at her from the binder of wedding-cake photos in front of her, Caroline took a few steps forward. “Hello, I’m Caroline.”

The young woman brushed at a few angry tears and then looked back and forth between Caroline and Logan, as if she wasn’t sure which one she should be listening to.

“So you will be able to make individual cakes for all my guests and stay within my budget, too?”

The woman must have chosen her as the primary source now because those red-rimmed eyes appeared hopeful and were trained right on her. Suddenly, Caroline felt as if she was walking into a business meeting unprepared—something she’d never done in her life. Why had she jumped in with two feet before she even knew how deep the water was?

“Well…” she said, stalling.

“Go ahead, Caroline. Tell Nicole your plan for helping to make her wedding picture-perfect,” Logan said.

“It’s just that I’ll need to check a few things first.” Because Caroline was cringing inside, waiting for him to call her out in front of the customer, his chuckle surprised her.

“Come on. Don’t hold back.” He tapped his finger on the price list, speaking to the young bride instead of to his temporary coworker. “She was about to make a suggestion, and she’s right. It would be perfect.”

“What would be perfect?” the bride asked.

“You’ll have to forgive me because this is my first day and I’m only familiarizing myself with the price list.”

The vibrant, white smile Logan trained on the young woman could have earned a presidential pardon, as far as Caroline was concerned. She wondered why she’d never noticed before that the dimple in his right cheek was deeper than the one on his left. Why she was noticing it now, she didn’t even want to analyze.

“Anyway,” Logan continued, “I’m sure Caroline had already figured this out, but we have an alternative in the price list that will fit into your budget and still make a statement for your dream wedding.” Logan maintained eye contact with the customer while he spoke, morphing into a confident salesman in a naturalist’s body.

It didn’t surprise Caroline that Logan would rely on his masculine charm to smooth over the situation, but that he’d used it to cover her gaffe—now that surprised her.

“How would you do that?” the bride asked.

“You could have a small two-layer cake for the wedding party and then provide mini cakes, which serve two people each, for the other guests.” He glanced down at the price list and then back up at her. “Another option would be to have a cake for each reception table, but just by ordering mini cakes you’ll be cutting your number of cakes in half and trimming some of the cost.”

“It’s up to you,” Caroline joined in, “but if I were one of your wedding guests, I might like the warmth and community of sharing cake with a friend.” She didn’t look at Logan, but she could feel his gaze on her.

The woman thought for a few seconds and then nodded. “I guess that could work.”

“It’ll be great. You’ll see,” he said.

Having won the bride over, Logan made an appointment for her to meet with one of the designers early the next week and walked her to the door. Caroline had bent to return the photo albums to the shelf behind the counter when she realized he was standing behind her. She straightened and turned to face him.

“You just couldn’t help yourself from coming to my rescue.”

“No— I mean, I didn’t—” Finally, she gave up and shrugged. She couldn’t deny it because that was exactly what she’d been doing.

Instead of answering, Logan stepped around her and pushed through the kitchen door. Caroline trailed after him, relieved that the eavesdroppers had had the good sense to scatter.

He announced to the others that he would be taking his lunch but didn’t even look back at Caroline as he switched into his riding boots, grabbed his helmet and jacket and headed outside. The door had barely closed before the sound of his motorcycle reverberated off the concrete walls.

He had every right to be mad. She might as well have worn a firefighter’s helmet and carried a flashing red light as obviously as she’d tried to rescue him. Only, he hadn’t needed rescuing, and he’d ended up covering for her. She didn’t know what to do with that truth.

She listened, waiting for the roar of the motorcycle engine to filter away, but instead, the sound stopped. Seconds later, Logan stomped into the entry, carrying his helmet under his arm. Strange how he didn’t look the part of Matthew and Dylan Warren’s little brother as he stood covered in all that leather gear and indignation.

Caroline drew in a breath, not entirely from shock.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, lowering his helmet to the floor. He glanced around at the employees who were pretending not to listen. “Outside,” he added.

Swallowing, she followed him, and when he held the door open for her, she didn’t argue. Under normal circumstances, she would have considered telling him she was uncomfortable with such chivalrous notions, but the tight set of his jaw told her this wasn’t the time.

As soon as the heavy steel door closed behind them, he whirled to face her. “Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know what you—”

But Logan didn’t let her finish. “You know exactly what I mean. You showed up like the cavalry, planning to save the day, and you did it in front of the whole staff. As if they weren’t already doubting my abilities.”

“It’s just like when were kids and you fell off your skateboard and…” She blew out a breath. “I was just trying to help.”

“No, you were just disappointed that I didn’t fail.”

She shook her head. “That’s not true.”

He paced to his motorcycle, shoving his hands back through his hair. “I knew I was making a mistake. I knew it.”

Though he’d been speaking more to himself, he turned back to her now. “I get it that you agreed to come here because you thought you could do a better job running the shop than I could. If I hadn’t felt sorry—” He stopped himself but not before his message became clear.

Caroline drew in a breath. Just because she’d suspected he’d only accepted her presence out of pity didn’t make it any easier to hear the truth spoken aloud.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes, you did.”

He started to deny it, but one side of his mouth lifted and the steel of his posture softened. “Okay, I sort of did.”

“And you’re kind of right about why I came here. I also had quite a bit of free time.” She shrugged and then met his gaze directly. “But you’re wrong about me wanting you to fail. I just wanted to pay you back—”

Logan drew his brows together. “Pay me back?” Realization must have dawned because he started nodding. “Of course. I got the ladies to stop before they started asking a bunch of nosy questions, and you’re trying to return the favor.”

“It’s good that you understand.”

“You mean how crazy it would make a control freak like you to be indebted to anyone? Sure, I understand.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“I knew that some of the employees were listening from behind the door.”

Caroline stared at him. “You knew? I’m sorry that they don’t seem all that supportive of you.”

“It’s always tough when the boss’s kid takes over.”

“Well, that’s unfair of them to discount you before they’ve given you a chance.”

“Is that so?”

At his smile, she felt ashamed. Wasn’t that exactly what she’d done? “Sorry.”

“No problem.”

“You didn’t need my help, anyway. You were amazing with that bride.”

He studied her, as if waiting for a punch line. “Thanks,” he said finally. “Look, why don’t we just call it even? We don’t have to keep score for the next few weeks. I’ll even try to listen to your suggestions while you’re here, preferably if you don’t give them in front of the other employees. And you can…”

“I don’t know…trust that you know what you’re doing until you ask for help? And maybe you could avoid mentioning my being…er…unemployed around here.”

“Deal.”

His smile was so warm that Caroline was convinced she could feel the heat on her own skin, but she tried to shake away the thought. This was just the invigorating feeling of having a purpose again. That had to be it. If not, she was in big trouble because her immunity to Logan Warren was in danger of falling faster than a cake after someone slammed the oven door.

Chapter Three

Logan trudged along the tiles of the same hospital corridor he’d paced so many times in the last few days, the antiseptic scent stirring nausea in his belly. Caroline’s footsteps tapping in time with his only unsettled him more.

As if visiting with his mother this way wasn’t heartbreaking enough every time, it was even harder seeing the shock on friends’ faces the first time they visited. None of them saw any hope for Amy’s recovery, no matter how much lip service they paid to it later. He could just imagine how bleak Caroline’s expression would be. She tended to see the world in blacks and whites with little hope for grays.

“Will your motorcycle be okay where we left it?” Caroline asked from behind him.

The uncomfortable look on her face when he glanced back at her probably had more to do with the critical care unit they were about to enter than the fact that she’d insisted on driving when they’d left work, but he nodded anyway. He would have declined her offer of a ride, but then he would have been forced to consider why he’d needed to put space between himself and this particular woman. He didn’t want to touch that with a ten-foot pole.

“The bakery’s in a pretty safe neighborhood. Even if the door really had been unlocked this morning, the store probably would have been fine.”

The last he’d added to calm her nerves, but she was too busy staring at the sign that said “Critical Care” to notice his effort. He stopped just outside the department’s double doors, with his hand on the button that automatically opened them.

Caroline paused beside him. “Has she been conscious?”

“Most of the time. She’ll be glad you came.”

Caroline’s gaze darted to the door and back, and then she straightened her shoulders. They entered the department and Logan turned at the first hall.

“It’s down this way.” After a week of visiting, he could have found her hospital room with his eyes closed.

Next to him, Caroline was fidgety and nervous, the same way she’d been at the bakery that morning. And then he remembered the likely reason for her disquiet. Caroline had lost her father two years before, and hospitals probably reminded her of that loss.

Well, they shared that discomfort with hospital settings in common. Just as he had during every visit, he felt as if he was coming out of his skin, and they weren’t even inside his mother’s room yet. He paused just outside the door.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said, for his benefit as much as hers.

He could tell from Caroline’s sharp intake of breath the exact moment she saw his mother lying asleep in the second bed of the double room. He could barely keep himself from gasping every time he saw his mother this way.

In sleep, his mother’s face was relaxed, but so far at least, her face became no more animated even when she was awake. The silver hair, which was rarely out of place, now stuck out all over her head and appeared to have turned white overnight. Her left arm rested tightly against her torso, her fingers curling back toward her body.

For several seconds, Caroline just stared, and then she took a few steps toward the bed. Over her shoulder, she whispered, “She’s sleeping. Do you think we should go?”

“Wha…” Amy’s eyes blinked open. She looked back and forth between them, her gaze filled with confusion. “Lo…”

“Yeah, it’s me, Mom. Logan,” he answered before she could struggle further. “Caroline’s here, too.”

The movement was small, but Amy managed to turn her head toward her best friend’s daughter.

“Goo…”

“Yes, Mom, it is good.”

He looked to Caroline then, but her stricken expression was gone, and the smile that replaced it could have made even the sickest person feel better. Rather than hang back as some of his mother’s other visitors had, Caroline rushed forward and dropped a kiss on top of that matted head of hair.

“Oh, Mrs. Warren, I’m sorry I haven’t made it here to see you yet.” Lowering into the seat next to the bed, she reached around the bars to grasp Amy’s good hand. “Are you feeling any better tonight?”

“Pea…”

“Mom, I sure hope you’re saying that you’re feeling ‘peachy’ and not like ‘pea soup.’” He crossed to the opposite side of the bed and bussed his mother’s cheek before returning to take the seat next to Caroline.

“Bo…th,” Amy said with obvious effort.

Logan and Caroline chuckled over her comment that sounded humorous whether she intended it to or not. Caroline lifted up from the seat and leaned in to brush the hair back from Amy’s face. Logan pretended not to notice that as she did it she blinked back tears, but he swallowed the emotion thickening in his throat.

When Caroline lowered into the chair again, she gestured with her head for him to take his mother’s hand instead. An unsettling feeling squeezed in his chest, and his eyes burned. He drew in a gulp of air and let it out slowly. Tears wouldn’t give his mother back the full use of the left side of her body or her ability to speak. He believed that prayers could, but he wished God would hurry up with His healing power.

They sat for a few minutes longer, watching as Amy nodded off. There was something comforting about Caroline being there, someone who cared for his mother almost as much as he did. This compassionate side of Caroline was new to him, seeming to soften her hard edges, but he suspected that side had always been there, buried beneath all of her goals and lists.

The sound of footsteps brought his attention to the door. Mrs. Scott pushed the door open, a paper cup in her hand.

“I didn’t realize you two were in here. Dylan and Jenna are in the waiting room. They’ll want to come in when you’re finished.”

“Oh. Okay.” He lowered his mother’s hand and stood.

Trina stepped to the bed and lifted the pitcher off the side table, pouring ice water into the cup and replacing the lid and straw. “Did everything go okay at the shop today?”

Next to Logan, Caroline stood up from the chair, sending him a worried glance.

“We did fine,” he said.

Caroline blinked but seemed to recover from her surprise. “Logan did a great job handling a difficult customer. You would have been impressed.”

It was Logan’s turn to be surprised, but before he had the chance to look over to Caroline to see if she was serious, his mother shifted next to him.

“Shop?”

Amy had just awakened again, and already she was asking about her business.

“The bakery is going to be okay, Mom. No matter what it takes, it will be there when you’re ready to come back.”

Caroline looked his way then. Her gaze touched him in a warm, steady connection. She didn’t have to say anything aloud for him to understand what she meant. He’d made a commitment to his mother, and she’d stepped forward to help him keep it.

As Logan sat in one of the folding chairs squeezed around Trina Scott’s small dining room table, he couldn’t help thinking that something was wrong with that picture. In fact, everything was wrong with it.

The Saturday-night dinner should have been around his mother’s mammoth dining room table. As always. She would have insisted on doing all the cooking and would have managed to top her last amazing meal. As always. This was his mother’s domain. Her fifty-plus-hour weeks making desserts for other people’s families should have taken away the novelty of preparing food for others, but she lived for dinners like this one. That only made it more tragic that she might never be able to host another one.

Logan pushed the thought from his mind. He should have been starving for a good meal. When was the last time he’d eaten anything that hadn’t been wrapped in cellophane? Still, he found himself pushing meat sauce and ricotta around on his plate.

“It’s not quite the same, is it?”

Logan looked up to find Mrs. Scott studying him from the other side of the table. She glanced at his plate of nearly untouched lasagna and then back to his face.

“No, the food’s great. Really.” He took a big bite to reinforce his comment but had to follow it with a gulp of iced tea to choke it down.

“You can’t kid a kidder, son.”

“It does seem strange, I guess.”

“Whew,” Haley called out as she reentered the room, her folded arms using her pregnant belly as a resting spot. “I thought nobody was going to say it. No offense, Mom. Your cooking is great, but having a Warren-Scott dinner anywhere but in Amy Warren’s dining room just seems wrong.”

Murmurs of agreement came from the others crowded around the table. Logan smiled at his sister-in-law, who pressed her hand to her back while she lowered herself into a chair. The two of them hadn’t agreed on much over the years, but they were in complete agreement on this one.

“I miss Grammy,” Lizzie said as she rounded the table and climbed up in her aunt Caroline’s lap.

“We all do, sweetie.” Caroline wrapped her arms around the child and pressed her cheek to Lizzie’s.

The movement of brushing her fingers along the little girl’s braids in a comforting touch appeared surprisingly natural for a woman who was probably more comfortable in a boardroom than anybody’s living room. But then Logan remembered the Scotts’ unusual family dynamic. Because Mrs. Scott wasn’t comfortable with emotional scenes, she often sent Caroline to deliver hugs as her surrogate.

He’d heard all the stories about Caroline comforting Haley after she’d been dumped by her fiancé and wiping away Jenna’s tears after she’d messed things up with Dylan. He’d just never witnessed these things himself until the last few days, and he was having a tough time reconciling this person to the businesswoman who’d marched into the bakery and tried to take it over.

Logan didn’t realize he’d been staring at her until she glanced over and caught him. He turned away in time to find Matthew watching him.

“Now, Logan, I would have expected you to be the last one to show up to joint family dinners,” Matthew said. “You were amazingly talented at finding ways to avoid them.”

Logan understood that his brother was only trying to lighten the serious mood in the room, but it didn’t make him feel any less guilty over what Matthew had said. Still, he tried his best to play along with the joke. “Could I help it if I had a date?”

“When didn’t you have a date?” Jenna supplied.

He didn’t mind that they all had a laugh at his expense. They needed a reason to laugh, and the reasons had been precious few the last few days. Out of his side vision, he caught sight of Caroline watching him, and he couldn’t help wondering what she saw.

“I did a pretty good job of avoiding family dinners myself,” Dylan said. “Optometry conferences, you know.”

“All because you didn’t want to see me.” Jenna elbowed her fiancé and then, linking her arm with his, smiled down at the diamond solitaire on her hand. “Both of you were also trying to avoid the matchmaking schemes.”

“I never missed any of those dinners,” Matthew said. “I am the good son, after all.”

They all shared another laugh at that, and Haley reached over to ruffle her husband’s hair. “Those were some good times,” she said in a wistful voice.

Matthew took her hand in his. “Yeah, good times.”

Trina planted her hands on the edge of the table with a thud. “Stop it, all of you. The last thing Amy needs is for you to be thinking this way, as if she’s not going to be able to do any of things that made her happy. She will be fine, and she doesn’t need any of you naysayers holding her back.”

“But none of us said—” Caroline began, but she cut her words short when her mother frowned her way. She lifted her hands in surrender.

Trina turned back to Logan. “And, Logan Warren, don’t you worry. You’ll have plenty of chances to avoid your mother’s amazing dinners for dates with your blonde-, brunette- or redhead-of-the-week.”

They were laughing at him again, but at least they were laughing.

Trina pressed her hands together as if to signal that the earlier subjects were closed. “Now how did things go at the bakery today?”

Automatically, Logan shot a look at Caroline. She was staring back at him.

Dylan leaned forward and rested his hands on the edge of the table. “Go ahead. Tell us. Was it as bad as the other day? We heard you two were arguing outside the back door. We would have direct quotes, but no one could hear through the steel door.”

“You heard wrong,” Logan grumbled.

“That’s the same story I—” Matthew started, but Caroline cut him off.

“It was pretty quiet today since we had no wedding cake orders this weekend.”

“No weddings on Memorial Day weekend?” Trina said.

Logan looked up in surprise and noted that Caroline had reacted the same way. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one who’d failed to notice they were in the middle of a holiday weekend. They wouldn’t be celebrating the beginning of summer with a cookout this weekend anyway.

Before Caroline could answer for the two of them again, Logan spoke up. “You know how small Markston is. Some weekends Mom has three weddings to bake for and other weekends, none at all.”

“We’re booked for every weekend in June,” Caroline added. “As long as new orders are coming in for fall and not going to Cakes & More instead, we’re fine.”

Scoffing sounds came from around the table.

“That name isn’t spoken aloud around here,” Logan explained. “That place has been a thorn in Mom’s side for the last six years.”

Trina snapped her fingers. “So that was what Amy was trying to tell me at the hospital today. She’s worried about the competition.”

“She doesn’t need to worry,” Logan assured her.

“Oh, she knows that, sweetie. She’s just keeping the business in her thoughts as her brain heals. She’s processing all those memories as she works her way back.”

Works her way back. Trina’s words reverberated through Logan’s thoughts. Had he been praying for his mother’s recovery without really believing it could happen? The question convicted him in a way that even thoughts of his empty seat at all those family dinners hadn’t.

It was difficult for him to imagine his mother entertaining big crowds or running her fast-paced business when so far she hadn’t even mastered her aim for lifting her fork to her mouth, but he couldn’t allow himself to think that way. Who was he to limit his mother’s recovery or God’s ability to heal? Faith was about believing without seeing, and his mother needed them all to believe.

“Is everyone ready for dessert?” Trina asked as she pushed back from the table.

“I am,” Lizzie announced.

The adults just stared at each other. Matthew’s daughter was too young to understand, but the others couldn’t forget that Amy Warren’s scrumptious cakes were a tradition at every Warren-Scott family gathering. Not having them there didn’t feel right. Logan caught Caroline’s gaze, and she gave him a sad smile.

“You know, Mrs. Scott, I’m pretty full already,” Logan told her.

Trina had started toward the kitchen, but she turned back. “Oh, that’s too bad. My brownies are cooling on the counter. I thought we’d put scoops of vanilla ice cream on top.” She paused, resting her knowing gaze on Logan. “Are you sure you’re too full?”

Logan pushed back from the table and patted his belly. “Oh, I think I could fit a little.”

“Good.” Trina took orders from the others and continued into the kitchen.

No one mentioned the cakes or their absence, but Logan was grateful Mrs. Scott hadn’t purchased one of his mother’s desserts for the occasion. She understood that the effort for continuity would have hurt more than it soothed.

Soon they were all gushing over Trina’s brownie dessert and laughing together about old times. That, too, was a Warren-Scott family tradition.

Logan smiled as he thought how much his mother would hate missing tonight. But there would be other times, he was suddenly certain. His mother would even host her infamous dinner parties again. He just knew it. And when she did, he would happily attend every one.

Chapter Four

The pews were only half-full at Community Church of Markston that Sunday morning, reminding Caroline again that it was a holiday weekend. As odd as it felt for her to be sitting in her mother’s church, she would have felt just as out of place at her own church in Chicago as seldom as she’d darkened its doors lately.

With Jenna and Dylan on one side of her and Haley and Lizzie on the other, Caroline couldn’t resist peeking farther down the pew to her mother. She fully expected one of her mother’s knowing stares, cueing her in that Trina had guessed about her sporadic church attendance. She hadn’t exactly given up her faith, but she’d had a hard time squeezing church into her Sunday work schedule.

But Trina wasn’t paying attention to her at all, her focus on the doors at the rear of the sanctuary. Suddenly, it made sense. Mrs. Warren had always been annoyed by Dylan and Logan’s continual tardiness at church. Jenna had reformed Dylan, but Logan was probably still playing beat-the-church-bell. In Amy’s absence, Trina must have seen it as her duty to censure Logan.

At the front of the sanctuary, Matthew sat in his music minister’s seat, his focus on the back door, as well.

“He’s not going to make it,” Jenna said, glancing at her watch.

“I should have called him before I left my apartment,” Dylan murmured.

Jenna chuckled. “Don’t worry. My mom will make him toe the line.”

“Like you did me?” He took her hand.

Caroline shifted in her seat. She’d never noticed before how many family jokes were directed at Logan. About small things from his Casanova ways to his job as “Ranger Logan,” but they all came with mild disapproval for his choices. Had he taken on the role of the family comedian to deflect some of that?

Her sudden temptation to tell both of their families to knock it off made her smile. Logan would not appreciate her defending him. He didn’t need her to be his champion now any more than he’d needed her to step in when he’d been dealing with that difficult customer. She understood that he was fine on his own, but that didn’t keep her from watching the door and rooting for him to show up tout de suite.

Just as the organist played the first notes of the processional music, Logan breezed through the door, a weathered leather Bible tucked under his arm. Although most of the men in the sanctuary wore polo shirts and slacks, Logan was dressed like it was Easter Sunday. He’d paired his navy suit with a crisp white shirt and a blue tie with geometric designs in the exact green shade of his eyes.

“What?” Logan asked in a low voice as he came to the end of the pew. His left eyebrow lifted in question, that same side of his mouth rising, as well. “Good morning, everyone.”

He might have said everyone, but he was looking right at Caroline. Only then did she realize she’d been staring at him with her mouth hanging open like a landing pad for flies. She clicked her teeth shut and shifted again. It didn’t matter how amazing he looked; she had no excuse for staring. But a glance around told her she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the man who wore a business suit with the same ease as he sported jeans and hiking boots.

Logan didn’t pay attention to the fuss as he waved to Matthew up on the podium and scooted into the pew next to Caroline’s mother. As Trina reached over and patted Logan’s arm, Caroline couldn’t help thinking of the service last Christmas when her mother and Mrs. Warren had made a display of standing and shifting seats so that she and Dylan were forced to sit together.

Caroline hadn’t really expected her mother to try something like that this morning, but she couldn’t explain her mild discomfort when she didn’t. She should have been relieved. Was she disappointed that her mother and Mrs. Warren hadn’t tried to set her up with a third Warren brother? That couldn’t be possible.

Her gaze slid to Logan’s end of the pew. No, not possible, she decided, choosing to ignore the annoying seeds of doubt that lingered.

“Let’s get this morning started off right,” Matthew said as he stepped to the lectern. “I can’t imagine a better way than by singing ‘How Great Thou Art.’”

Caroline smiled up at her brother-in-law, grateful to him for interrupting her strange thoughts. This was what she needed to clear her head: good hymns, good meditation and a thought-provoking sermon on grace or the destructive power of sin.

But when Reverend Leyton Boggs directed everyone to turn to a passage in Mark Chapter 10, her hope faltered. It was the same passage she’d read aloud for Haley and Matthew’s wedding.

“Jesus is a real proponent of marriage,” Reverend Boggs began. “Not the temporary kind like we see so much today but the enduring kind.”

He read from the beginning of the chapter, but when he reached Verse 7, Caroline found herself quoting the Scripture with him.

“‘For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh,’” she whispered.

Looking up from her open Bible, Caroline glanced at the couple seated to her right. Dylan was cradling Jenna’s hand and moving it so that the sanctuary lights caught on the facets of her diamond engagement ring. Soon those two would be “one flesh.” Caroline looked up in time to catch Matthew and Haley exchanging a warm look. They already had melded their lives into one.

A knot formed in her throat, surprising her. Her gaze moved again to Logan on the opposite end of the pew. Did their siblings’ cozy togetherness ever make him uncomfortable, the way it did her? More than that, did their obvious happiness ever make him wonder if he was missing something like—

No. She cleared her throat, uncrossing and then recrossing her legs. Logan wasn’t the settling-down type any more than she was. If he was committed to anything, it was to playing the field. And her life was complete. Not a thing was missing. But had she been happy, even before she’d received the pink slip? Had she truly been fulfilled? Did she have real friends or just colleagues? She praised the joys of her solitary life, but sometimes wasn’t she just lonely?

“I don’t need a wrap-up when Jesus said it so well for us in Verse 9,” the minister said when Caroline finally tuned back in to his message. “‘What therefore God has joined together, let not man put asunder.’”

Reverend Boggs had taken his sermon full circle back to the passage in the Book of Mark. Her thoughts had been just as circuitous, but unlike the minister, she had no answers to her questions. Clearly, her job loss was causing her to rethink all her choices, but was it more than that? As much as she didn’t want to admit it, her general ennui just might have something to do with a park ranger who was trying his hand at running a bakery.

After Reverend Boggs spoke the benediction, Caroline had the urge to make a break for the parking lot. But how could she explain her sudden need to avoid spending time with the two families she loved most in the world? Or that she wanted to avoid a particular Warren family member?

Because there was no way she would admit any such thing, she followed Dylan and Jenna into the center aisle and braced herself for the crush of another Scott-Warren family reunion.

Lizzie reached her first, wrapping her arms around her skirt-clad legs.

“Church is over, Aunt Caroline,” she announced. “Did you think I was good in church? Mommy and Daddy let me have dessert after lunch if I’m good.”

Caroline reached down and tugged one of the child’s sandy-brown braids. “You were great in church. I think you deserve two desserts.”

“Just one will be fine,” Haley said as she reached them. “Thanks for the help, Caroline.”

“Anytime.”

Dylan elbowed Jenna and leaned close to speak to her in a loud stage whisper. “Remind me not to let your sister anywhere near our kids.”

As she laughed, Caroline felt herself relax. It was always like this when their two families got together—a lot of silliness, plenty of jokes. One marriage, another engagement and even a serious health crisis hadn’t changed that. Maybe nothing had changed.

But as Logan came around the front of the pews and stepped into the circle next to her, his sleeve brushing her bare forearm, tingles raced to her shoulder. Something was different in the old family-friend circle, all right, whether she cared to admit it or not.

Dylan grinned at his brother. “So, Logan, did you have a job interview after this, or just a photo shoot with GQ?”

“Oh, this old thing?”

“I think he cleans up nice.” The words were out of Caroline’s mouth before she had the chance to censor them. To keep from fidgeting, she tucked her hair behind her ear. Why did she always fidget so much around him, anyway?

He lifted an eyebrow, but then he grinned. “Thanks. You, too.”

“Thanks.” She brushed her damp hands down the sides of her black pencil skirt, careful not to touch her silk blouse and leave embarrassing handprints. “Remember the time when we were kids and your mom had cleaned you up for church only to find you rolling down the hill in the backyard?”

As soon as she said it, she was sorry, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She’d always joked with Logan as much as the others.

“I’ll try to remember not to roll on the ground today,” he said, his voice sounding tight. “I wonder to whom Reverend Boggs was speaking with his message this morning.”

Caroline stilled her hands on her hips. She deserved that, she supposed. But when she looked up again, he wasn’t talking to her. He had sidled up to Dylan instead and was patting him on the back.

“Sorry, everyone.” Dylan held his hands wide. “Jenna and I didn’t mean for everyone to be included in our premarital-counseling class.”

Trina had been over talking to a few of the church ladies, but she approached in time to hear the last. “If you’re starting counseling, does that mean you two have finally set a wedding date?”

“Mother, please.” Jenna rolled her eyes.

“We’ll get around to it,” Dylan assured her.

“I’m not getting any younger, you know,” Trina said, her lips in a pout that earned her a laugh.

No one mentioned Amy, or that she was a few years older than Trina and that her health was precarious at best, but the awkward pause in the conversation showed that they were all thinking about her again.

“You know…if you were to set a date, it would give Amy something to look forward to.” Trina held her hands wide as if to show the simplicity of her idea. “It would give her another reason to work to get home sooner.”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Scott,” Dylan said, shaking his index finger at her. “Are you worried your most recent match won’t make it to the altar?”

“Of course not.” She waved away his suggestion. “I just know that Amy would want you all to live your lives instead of putting them on hold while she’s recovering.”

“That’s just what I’ve been trying to tell you, Mom,” Haley piped in. She moved between her sisters. “Did she tell you guys that Mr. Kellam invited her out for coffee, and she shot him down? The poor guy.”

“Why, Mom?” Jenna asked. “Frank Kellam is a cutie with all that silver hair and those blue, blue eyes.”

“Yeah. Why not?” Caroline wasn’t sure she was ready to see her mother begin dating, but she didn’t want her to be alone, either.

“Would you all hush?” Trina looked flustered as she shot a glance to the rear of the sanctuary. “He’s a member here, you know.”

“He’s really nice, too,” Jenna said.

Trina gave Jenna a warning look and turned back to Haley. “Now I told you…even before everything with Amy…that it wasn’t going to happen.”

“Why not?” Haley rested her crossed arms on her belly. “Dad died more than two years ago. You should—”

“Not long enough.” Trina shook her head. “It will never be long enough.”

A second uncomfortable silence settled in the sanctuary, until Logan started chuckling. Everyone turned back to see what was so funny.

“Well, well, well, Mrs. Scott,” he said finally. “It’s different when the tables are turned, isn’t it?”

Instead of answering, Trina stared at him waiting for him to explain himself.

Logan held his hands wide, as if the explanation was simple. “The matchmaker gets a dose of her own medicine, and it doesn’t taste too sweet.”

All the younger adults laughed, but Trina gave him one of those looks that used to hush her daughters in church.

“There will be no matchmaking, and that’s final.”

“Okay,” Logan said with a shrug. “But you might want to remember that Matthew said that same thing. And Haley. And Dylan. And Jenna.”

By the time that he’d made it through the list, Jenna and Haley were muffling giggles, and Logan’s brothers were looking away, trying and failing to cover their smirks.

“Logan Michael Warren,” Trina said in the same warning tone that they’d all heard Mrs. Warren use after one of Logan’s jokes.

When Logan stiffened at the sound, Caroline couldn’t help but do the same. Everything had to remind him of his mother lately.

But when Caroline turned back to her mother, Trina was smiling in a reminder that all thoughts of Mrs. Warren didn’t need to be sad ones.

“Since Amy couldn’t be here today, I knew she would want me to pick up the slack.”

Laughter filled the sanctuary again, with Lizzie laughing the loudest in that way children do when they don’t get the joke.

Just as Matthew returned to them from the receiving line in the vestibule, the overhead lights flickered off, leaving behind only the yellow cast of daylight filtering in through the stained-glass windows.

Matthew pointed to the lights. “There’s our signal to go home. Unless you all just want to stay until the evening service.”

“Back to my house, then?” Trina looked around at all their faces. “Chicken and noodles are in the Crock-Pot, and a pie is cooling on the counter. We’ll eat a nice lunch and then head over to visit Amy.”

After several affirmative murmurs, they all started up the aisle toward the exit.

Logan cleared his throat just as they stepped outside. “Ah, I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it.”

“But—” Trina’s smile fell.

“I’ll catch up with all of you at the hospital.”

Dylan elbowed his brother and waggled an eyebrow. “Got another date?”

“Something like that,” Logan answered.

“Who with this time?”

Logan shrugged but didn’t answer.

“Guess he’s not telling.” Matthew glanced at his watch. “It’s barely past noon on a Sunday, bro. That has to be a new record for you.”

Haley stopped and faced her husband. “Jealous of all that freedom?”

“No way. Not me.” Matthew held his hands up in a defensive pose.

“Good answer,” Haley said with a grin.

Caroline told herself she wasn’t jealous, either. Not of Logan’s hopping social calendar. Certainly not of the woman who would be spending the afternoon with Logan, though she was curious about this mystery woman. Knowing Logan, she was probably beautiful. And equally empty-headed.

No, Caroline definitely wasn’t jealous. But disappointed? She shouldn’t care one way or another whether Logan spent the afternoon with her—um…their families, but she did. Her excuse that she only wanted them all to be together didn’t hold water, either.

How could she admit that she wanted to spend more time with Logan Warren? Even if she were in the market for a relationship, which she wasn’t, Logan was about the last man on earth she should choose, and yet something was drawing her to him.

Something that needed to be stopped. This was a recipe for disaster, especially with the two of them trying to work together. It didn’t matter how handsome he looked when those dimples popped or how he made her laugh with his clever repartee. She was a strong, independent woman—not some hopeless romantic. She had to admit she was attracted to Logan, but she planned to get over it right now.

Logan set his helmet on his motorcycle and threw his head back, closing his eyes and breathing in the earthy scent of southern Indiana. Though Boyton County State Park was more crowded than he preferred with holiday picnickers and the air was tinged with the scent of barbecue grills, serenity still flooded Logan’s veins.

Even the twenty-minute ride out to the park on his Harley hadn’t made him feel so at peace. He didn’t need people in this place, could be alone without feeling lonely. He was at home.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.