A Christmas Wedding For The Cowboy. Mary Leo
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decision, despite the fact that Marilyn Rose had already come through the bakery several months ago with a list of her pricey requirements and narrowed it down to four of her favorite creations.
Apparently, his ex-fiancée had decided on three tiers of chocolaty goodness with a lemon cream filling, which was fine by him, until Amanda Gump, who now ran the bakery after her aunt had stepped down, recommended that he change his order to one tier of chocolate, one tier of yellow cake and perhaps a tier of banana or a nice spice cake on the top.
“That’s a great idea, Amanda,” Zoe said, agreeing with the change. “It’ll mean all the guests will more than likely be satisfied.”
She then gazed over at Carson, seeking his approval. Unfortunately, Carson had come down with a strong case of this is ridiculous and was about to put the kibosh on the entire event when Amanda spoke up.
“You should probably order a gluten-free groom’s cake,” Amanda suggested to Carson. “So your mom and other guests who no longer eat wheat can enjoy the cake festivities, as well. We make a killer lemon poppy seed gluten-free cake that’s to die for. Your mom comes in here at least once a week for our GF lemon poppy seed muffins. I know she’d love our cake, as well.”
His mom... Now, there was someone he had to personally tell about his called-off wedding before he told anyone else. She would be devastated if she heard the news from someone other than her son. As it was, she already had her youngest daughter not going through with her wedding, and now she’d have to deal with her son’s wedding debacle.
Nope, he’d have to hold his tongue a little longer...at least until Sunday dinner. “Sure, whatever my mom likes is fine with me. Order it up.”
In the meantime, he noticed the delight pouring out of Zoe as she and Amanda discussed the number of guests the cakes would have to serve. Zoe was in her element, excited to be part of the planning stage, but then what he knew of Zoe, she seemed as peaceful as a cat resting in the sun. She was one of those people who looked at life with a positive slant, and no matter what happened, even when a bride didn’t show up for her own wedding, Zoe could always find the rosy side of a situation and react with calm, deliberate expertise to defuse any issue.
Amanda, with her short-cropped wine-colored hair, big feather earrings, colorful sweater, red jeans and knee-high bright red boots, was as sharp as a whip about most things, especially business, and had opened the second successful Holy Rollers Bakery over in Jackson just that past summer. Ever since she’d married Milo Gump, she’d turned into a no-nonsense businesswoman who not only knew how to run local bakeries, but was working on opening a third one in Boise.
“Oh, and I love your tiered Christmas Present Cake,” Zoe said as she flipped through the pages in the white binder she held in her lap, searching for the correct page. When she found it, she passed the binder to Carson. It didn’t look like a cake at all, but rather four boxes stacked on top of each other, all gaily wrapped in striped and polka-dot Christmas paper. A big dark red bow sat on the top of the cake.
He knew as soon as he saw it that Marilyn Rose would hate it. According to her, Christmas presents were for children under the age of twelve, and once you turned thirteen, the gift exchange was over. A fact that irked every member of the Grant clan. They believed everyone deserved a present on Christmas, even the family dogs.
“It’s exactly right,” Carson told Zoe. “You couldn’t have picked a more perfect cake. Let’s go with this one.”
If Marilyn Rose did come to her senses and decide to go through with the wedding, a Christmas Present Cake would be one tiny little way for Carson to get even. His family would absolutely love it, especially his four sisters, Kayla, Coco, Kenzie and Callaghan, who each year showered the family with presents they either made themselves or found in one of the local craft stores.
Zoe beamed as Amanda reached across the table and tapped his shoulder. “Oh, go on, Carson Grant. You know your fiancée has to make the final decisions on the cake. It’s like some kind of unwritten rule or something. The bride always picks out the cake.”
“Marilyn Rose is busy in Vegas at the National Finals,” Zoe said, coming to his rescue. “She left Carson in charge, and so far, he’s doing one heck of a job.”
“Wow, that’s some kind of confidence in your man. I love my man to heaven and back, but I doubt I could trust him to pick out a breakfast cake let alone our wedding cake. She must love you very much.”
Carson nearly choked on the bite of cake he’d just put into his mouth, and Zoe ended up slapping him on the back to make sure he was breathing again. “Drink some water,” she suggested. As she patted his back, he tried to relax so his throat would open and allow air to get into his lungs instead of cake.
Finally, after several gulps of water, he could breathe again.
“Are you okay?” Zoe asked, looking concerned.
“Fine,” he squeaked out. “I’m fine, thanks. Must’ve gone down the wrong pipe.”
He cleared his throat, drank a little more water and finally was able to sit back in his chair.
“Great,” Zoe said. “Because I certainly don’t want the groom dying on my watch.”
“I’m fine. Really. Just a little tickle is all.”
Amanda turned to Carson. “It must be killing you not to be able to compete in Vegas with your girl.”
“Yeah, really killing me,” he said, but he knew he didn’t sound very convincing. The thought of his competing in Vegas right now instead of sitting in the safety of Holy Rollers under the ruse of planning his wedding sent a chill up his spine. He didn’t know which lie was worse: the one about how eager he was to get back to competing or that he was getting married on Christmas Day.
He took another bite of cake, careful this time not to suck it into his throat, but to chew it slowly, as he’d been taught when he was a boy. Back then he inhaled his meals in less than five minutes flat, much to his mother’s chagrin. She liked long, lazy dinners with plenty of conversation. Those were precisely the reasons why he hadn’t been by for Sunday dinner. He hadn’t been willing to talk about the accident or anything that concerned his future. And he knew for a fact his family would grill him on both.
Sugar always made him feel better, and he found he particularly liked the lemon cake with the lemon filling. If he had to pick out a cake, albeit a cake that would never be served to anyone and probably never get made, at the very least he could decide what he liked for his future wedding...if he ever had a future wedding. At the moment, it seemed doubtful.
“So, what’s your decision?” Amanda asked, once again all smiles and sunshine.
“I’m really liking this here lemon cake the best.”
“With the lemon filling?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “And don’t go easy on that filling. Layer it on heavy.” He took another big ole bite, wanting the sugar to sweeten up his mood...which it had.
Amanda looked stunned for a moment. “Well, then, I’ll draw up the order form for the cakes and have someone drop it off at your house in a day or two, no later than Monday. You’ll pay for half of the cost when you sign the paperwork, and the other half on delivery. You’re still living in the house in town, right?”
“Yes,” Carson said, thinking by then this entire charade would be over and he would simply cancel the order.
“No need for that,” Zoe said, interrupting his reverie. “I can drop by later today for the paperwork and take it over to Carson’s house to sign and then secure the down payment. His wedding will sneak up on us faster than you think, and I don’t want to take any chances of anything falling through the cracks, especially since December is your busiest month.”
“You got it,” Amanda told her, then jumped up when one of her employees waved her over to help behind the glass counter. “We’re shorthanded right now. I’ve had that sign in the window for help wanted