around the building, Logan could’ve sworn he heard the sound of two women laughing their asses off.
Chapter Fifteen
It was Wednesday when Veronica got the call: Forever Delicious had hired a new baker who wanted to try a different flavor of cake for Leah and Jake’s wedding. If Leah could just come in, taste, and approve the change, Forever Delicious would throw in the traditional groom’s cake for free, in hopes that the uniqueness of it would get people talking about the cake and the company. It was a good deal…if Leah was willing to do some sampling.
Veronica arrived at Forever Delicious, fully aware that Logan had been following her from the second she pulled away from Hotel Monaco. At first, when she’d seen his truck out the rearview mirror, she’d been irritated. Bothered to no end that she had to put up with a werewolf dogging her every move. But then the sun would shine through his driver’s side window and she’d get a glimpse of his face…and her entire demeanor would change. She’d thought more than once about telling him to just get in her car—it was a horrible waste of gas since they were going to all the same places anyway.
But then she’d think of her sister, the wounds that had bled on her neck, and the werewolf who was still out there. If Logan wasn’t at her side, following two steps behind her, Veronica would’ve probably been too stressed to function. Between the weddings, the appointments, and the notes, it would’ve been too much to handle. But Logan somehow made things seem clear. Easy. There was nothing to worry about when she was standing beside his strong frame, watching his gaze scan the sidewalks behind her.
How had it happened? How had she come to depend on a wolf to feel safe? The concept was ludicrous. Backward. Why, then, did it felt so right?
Going along with business as usual—all she could do, given the circumstances—Veronica walked into the small cake shop and was instantly chilled. There was someone out there, right now, watching her. Was he walking by the shop? Across the street? As quickly as the feeling came, it disappeared, leaving her feeling just as she had before: painfully aware that she wanted Logan beside her.
“Be right with you,” a guy in a chef’s hat and ballooning apron said from behind a long white counter.
“No worries.” Veronica set down her bag and started flipping through a book stand with laminated pictures of wedding cakes. The cakes were beautiful, no doubt. There were multitiered cakes with smooth whipped frosting and flowers dripping down the sides. There were waterfalls of fondant. Sugar crystals lining the bottom. Roping around every tower.
Although Veronica could admire the handiwork and talent that went into making those cakes, she’d never actually envisioned her wedding having one. When she dreamed of her wedding, she pictured a beach. A floral arch and the man of her dreams standing beneath it. A simple bouquet of her favorite flower—soft pink roses tied with a white ribbon. No cake, but dinner and drinks after with close friends and family to celebrate. And she’d be barefoot, with a simple white dress that flowed to her ankles.
No fuss. No worry or stress like the others she planned on a regular basis.
She flipped a tab to the section on groom’s cakes, just in case she approved of the new flavor that the baker was offering.
The groom’s cakes were supposed to mean something to the groom. There were green-frosted cakes made to be a putting green, fishing-inspired ones with blue waves of whipped frosting coating the sides and bottom. A cake for every groom, something catered for every interest.
“I’ve always wondered why people like those,” Logan said from beside her.
She jumped at the sound of his voice, but was instantly comforted by his presence. “People like them because usually the bride is the one who does all the wedding planning, and her style is prevalent in everything from the dresses, to the flowers, to the favors. But the groom’s cake is for the groom. His style and what he enjoys.”
“I think it’s lame.”
“Well yeah, because you can’t make a cake look like a full moon.”
“Sure I can,” the baker said from the counter. “Round cake, yellow and white buttercream frosting. It’d be no problem, if that’s what you wanted.”
Veronica laughed, her chest tight. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’m Leah Vale and I’m here to try out the new flavor for my wedding cake.”
Logan stood beside her, continuing to flip through the book as if he hadn’t heard what she just said.
The baker checked his computer screen, moused down a few pages, then smiled. “Right here. The Vale- McKenna wedding. It’s going to be a gorgeous cake—a masterpiece.” He looked up at Logan. “You must be Jake.”
“N—” Veronica started.
“The one and only,” Logan blurted, striding up to shake the baker’s hand. “Great to meet you. I really admire your work.”
Oh, he really could lay it on thick.
“That’s kind of you,” the baker said, his smile stretching ear to ear. “It’s always great to hear your work is appreciated.”
Veronica stepped up to the counter and clutched at the strap of her handbag so that she wouldn’t punch Logan in the face. “What’s the new cake flavor you wanted me to try?”
“Wanted
“We don’t get too many grooms wanting to be included in the wedding cake decision-making process,” the baker said, digging into the fridge on the back wall. “You’ve got a great one there, Ms. Vale.”
“Oh, yeah, he’s a winner,” Veronica said, jerking away from him. “Definitely the top of the pack.”
Logan huffed into a laugh, then took a seat at the table behind her. “Why don’t you sit, sweetheart. We’re about to have a real treat.” He kicked out her chair.
Veronica sat down as the baker put a silver tray in front of them. Eight plates with small cake squares covered the tray and begged to be eaten. Her stomach growled.
“The new flavor is on the tiny pedestal in the center, but I’ve included all the other testing flavors as a treat.” The baker stood back and waited, watching. “Dive in.”
“I think I’ll take this one.” Veronica took a bite out of the brown one that she hoped was plain ole chocolate. “Mmm…” She closed her eyes and licked her lips as the richest chocolate she’d ever tasted hit her tongue. It was moist and rich with subtle hints of mocha and caramel. “That’s delicious,” she said. When she opened her eyes, both men were looking at her as if she’d just had an orgasm in the store. “What? Can’t a girl enjoy a slice of heaven?”
“That’s the one you vetoed on your last visit,” the baker said. “At least that’s what’s written on your chart. I wasn’t here to know for certain, but I can make a change if you’d like.”
That’s right—Leah hated chocolate. “I’m sorry, but my tastes change so much nowadays, it’s difficult to keep track. Whatever I chose before will suit just fine.”
“Wish your opinion would change as easily when it came to other things.” Logan made the jab quickly, then picked up a square of white cake and shoved the whole thing into his mouth. “Oh meah,” he mumbled, mouth full of marbled white and red. “Nthat raspbberby?”
The baker clapped his hands over his robust belly. “It’s white cake with cream cheese and sprinkles of fresh raspberries spread in the center.”
“It’s tasty.”
“Geez, you really
“Darling, if I’ve got something on my face, why don’t you lick it off?” He leaned in close, puffing out his cheek, but when Veronica simply stared, he returned to his previous position, practically drooling over the cake. “Don’t mind if I take another then.”
He picked up one that was buttery-yellow with a brown center and chomped off a huge bite.
