The Cupcake Diaries: Sweet On You Read online

  The Cupcake Diaries: Sweet On You

  DARLENE PANZERA

  Dedication

  For my children,

  Samantha, Robert, and Jason

  And in loving memory of

  Denise Bova Gant

  February 11, 1979−March 25, 2012

  Contents

  * * *

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Recipe for Paul Hanson’s Carrot Cake

  An Excerpt from The Cupcake Diaries: Recipe for Love

  An Excerpt from The Cupcake Diaries: Taste of Romance

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Darlene Panzera

  An Excerpt from Stealing Home by Jennifer Seasons

  An Excerpt from Lucky Like Us by Jennifer Ryan

  An Excerpt from Stuck On You by Cheryl Harper

  An Excerpt from The Right Bride by Jennifer Ryan

  An Excerpt from Lachlan’s Bride by Kathleen Harrington

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter One

  * * *

  Forget love . . . I’d rather fall in chocolate!

  —Author unknown

  ANDI CAST A glance over the rowdy karaoke crowd to the man sitting at the front table with the clear plastic bakery box in his possession.

  “What am I supposed to say?” she whispered, looking back at her sister, Kim, and their friend Rachel as the three of them huddled together. “Can I have your cupcake? He’ll think I’m a lunatic.”

  “Say ‘please,’ and tell him about our tradition,” Kim suggested.

  “Offer him money.” Rachel dug through her dilapidated Gucci knockoff purse and withdrew a ten-dollar bill. “And let him know we’re celebrating your sister’s birthday.”

  “You did promise me a cupcake for my birthday,” Kim said with an impish grin. “Besides, the guy doesn’t look like he plans to eat it. He hasn’t even glanced at the cupcake since the old woman came in and delivered the box.”

  Andi tucked a loose strand of her dark blond hair behind her ear and drew in a deep breath. She wasn’t used to taking food from anyone. Usually she was on the other end—giving it away. Her fault. She didn’t plan ahead.

  Why couldn’t any of the businesses here be open twenty-four hours like in Portland? Out of the two dozen eclectic cafes and restaurants along the Astoria waterfront promising to satisfy customers’ palates, shouldn’t at least one cater to late-night customers like herself? No, they all shut down at 10:30, some earlier, as if they knew she was coming. That’s what she got for living in a small town. Anticipation but no cake.

  However, she was determined not to let her younger sister down. She’d promised Kim a cupcake for her twenty-sixth birthday, and she’d try her best to procure one, even if it meant making a fool of herself.

  Andi shot her ever-popular friend Rachel a wry look. “You know you’re better at this than I am.”

  Rachel grinned. “You’re going to have to start interacting with the opposite sex again sometime.”

  Maybe. But not on the personal level, Rachel’s tone suggested. Andi’s divorce the previous year had left behind a bitter aftertaste no amount of sweet talk could dissolve.

  Pushing back her chair, she stood up. “Tonight, all I want is the cupcake.”

  ANDI HAD TAKEN only a few steps when the man with the bakery box turned his head and smiled.

  He probably thought she was coming over, hoping to find a date. Why shouldn’t he? The Captain’s Port was filled with people looking for a connection, if not for a lifetime, then at least for the hour or so they shared within the friendly confines of the restaurant’s casual, communal atmosphere.

  She hesitated midstep before continuing forward. Heat rushed into her cheeks. Dressed in jeans and a navy blue tie and sport jacket, he was even better looking than she’d first thought. Thirtyish. Light brown hair, fair skin with an evening shadow along his jaw, and the most amazing gold-flecked, chocolate brown eyes she’d ever seen. Oh my. He could have his pick of any woman in the place. Any woman in Astoria, Oregon.

  “Hi,” he said.

  Andi swallowed the nervous tension gathering at the back of her throat and managed a smile in return. “Hi. I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s my sister’s birthday, and I promised her a cupcake.” She nodded toward the see-through box and waved the ten-dollar bill. “Is there any chance I can persuade you to sell the one you have here?”

  His brows shot up. “You want my cupcake?”

  “I meant to bake a batch this afternoon,” she gushed, her words tumbling over themselves, “but I ended up packing spring break lunches for the needy kids in the school district. Have you heard of the Kids’ Coalition backpack program?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I think the Astoria Sun featured the free lunch backpack program on the community page a few weeks ago.”

  “I’m a volunteer,” she explained. “And after I finished, I tried to buy a cupcake but didn’t get to the store in time. I’ve never let my sister down before, and I feel awful.”

  The new addition to her list of top ten dream-worthy males leaned back in his chair and pressed his lips together, as if considering her request, then shook his head. “I’d love to help you, but—”

  “Please.” Andi gasped, appalled she’d stooped to begging. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I understand if you can’t, it’s just that my sister, Kim, my friend Rachel, and I have a tradition.”

  “What kind of tradition?”

  Andi pointed to their table, and Kim and Rachel smiled and waved. “Our birthdays are spaced four months apart, so we split a celebration cupcake three ways and set new goals for ourselves from one person’s birthday to the next. It’s easier than trying to set goals for an entire year.”

  “I don’t suppose you could set your goals without the cupcake?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

  Andi smiled. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

  “If the cupcake were mine to give, it would be yours. But this particular cupcake was delivered for a research project I have at work.”

  “Wish I had your job.” Andi dropped into the chair he pulled out for her and placed her hands flat on the table. “What if I told you it’s been a really tough day, tough week, tough year?”

  He pushed his empty coffee cup aside, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “I’d say I could argue the same.”

  “But did you spend the last three hours running all over town looking for a cupcake?” she challenged, playfully mimicking Rachel’s flirtatious, sing-song tone. “The Pig ’n Pancake was closed, along with the supermarket, and the cafe down the street said they don’t even sell them anymore. And then . . . I met you.”

  He covered her left hand with his own, and although the unexpected contact made her jump, she ignored the impulse to pull her fingers away. His gesture seemed more an act of compassion than anything else, and, frankly, she liked the feel of his firm yet gentle touch.

  “What if I told you,” he said, leaning forward, “that I’ve traveled five hundred and seventy miles and waited sixty-three days to taste this one cupcake?”

  Andi leaned toward him as well. “I’d say that’s ridiculous. There’s no cupcake in Astoria worth all that trouble.”

  “What if this particular cupcake isn’t from Astoria?”

  “No?” She took another look at the box but didn’t see a
label. “Where’s it from?”

  “Hollande’s French Pastry Parlor outside of Portland.”

  “What if I told you I would send you a dozen Hollande’s cupcakes tomorrow?”

  “What if I told you,” he said, and stopped to release a deep, throaty chuckle, “this is the last morsel of food I have to eat before I starve to death today?”

  Andi laughed. “I’d say that’s a good way to go. Or I could invite you to my place and cook you dinner.”

  Her heart stopped, stunned by her own words, then rebooted a moment later when their gazes locked, and he smiled at her.

  “You can have the cupcake on one condition.”

  “Which is?”

  Giving her a wink, he slid the bakery box toward her. Then he leaned his head in close and whispered in her ear.

  Chapter Two

  * * *

  There is nothing better than a friend, unless it is a friend with chocolate.

  —Charles Dickens

  ELATED, ANDI RETURNED to Rachel and Kim with the prize in hand—or at least three-fourths of the prize. She set the gourmet chocolate cupcake topped with white icing and crushed toffee candy sprinkles on the table in front of them.

  “You got it!” Rachel squealed. “Did you get his phone number, too?”

  Andi flushed. She didn’t even get his name. After he smiled at her that second time, all she could do was stare at him like a gaping idiot. “No, just the cupcake.”

  “Why is there a piece missing?” Kim pointed. “Did he bite into it before you got there?”

  “No,” she said, unable to stop grinning. “He said instead of splitting the cupcake three ways, we’d have to cut it in four.”

  Rachel bobbed her curly head. “Fair enough.”

  Kim helped Andi divvy up the three remaining cupcake pieces onto paper napkins, and without being asked, their waitress brought over a candle and a pack of matches.

  “Compliments from the man up front,” the waitress told them.

  Andi turned around to give him an appreciative nod, and he smiled a third time.

  “Somebody’s in trouble,” Rachel sang getting up from her seat.

  Andi frowned. She wasn’t in trouble. For once in her life, she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do: she got the cupcake.

  “Oh, no,” Kim moaned.

  Andi followed her sister’s fearful gaze toward Rachel, who had walked over to the karaoke singer with the microphone. The sound system crackled twice.

  Then the male singer, whose belly strained against his red suspenders, cleared his throat and announced, “I hear we have someone celebrating her birthday tonight.” He pointed at Kim, who looked as if she wanted to crawl under the table to hide. “Everyone sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Kimberly Nicole Burke.”

  Andi lit the candle on the cupcake, and after the song, Kim blew out the flame to the applause of everyone in the room.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t take the microphone out of his hands and perform your sultry nightclub rendition,” Andi teased when Rachel returned to her seat.

  “I don’t sing in public,” Rachel said, tossing her red curls over her shoulder. “It might ruin my image.”

  “You’re wrong,” Andi said, distributing the remaining three bite-sized pieces of the sweet, perfectly iced, dreamy-gooey, chocolate lovers’ cupcake. “I think your voice is beautiful.”

  Rachel grinned. “That’s what friends are for.”

  Andi turned to her sister. “Did you make a wish?”

  “I wished for a job, so I can get my own apartment instead of living at home with Dad.”

  Andi’s heart went out to her. “You didn’t get the position at the art gallery?”

  Kim’s delicate dark brows drew together as she shook her head. “No. They gave it to someone else. How about you?”

  “There are only so many dentists in Astoria, and the offices I visited aren’t hiring any dental assistants right now. It doesn’t help that I haven’t worked since before Mia was born, and I’m not familiar with the new technology.”

  Kim leaned forward, her face solemn. “Any word on your deadbeat ex?”

  Andi shook her head. “No. He’s still missing, and the authorities can’t find him. He hasn’t paid child support in over four months, and the money I’ve spent on lawyers and PIs trying to track him down has put me in more debt than the divorce. As of today, I’m a full month behind with my rent.”

  Rachel glanced down at the table. “I’m afraid I can’t help. I got fired two weeks ago.”

  Andi gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t know. Too embarrassed maybe? My boss said I spent too much time talking and not enough time taking orders.”

  “You were the best coffee barista he had,” Andi said, clenching her fists. “How dare he fire you after all you’ve done for him!”

  Rachel lifted her head. “You’re right.”

  “You didn’t like working there anyway,” Kim added.

  “Right again,” Rachel agreed. “I wish I could run my own business where I could be my own boss and not have anyone tell me what to do. My ex-boss lives to order other people around. All the baristas call him the ‘Bossinator.’ He complained I was never early enough, never fast enough, never good enough no matter what I did.”

  Andi nodded. “He sounds like my father.”

  “Worse.” Rachel sighed. “I won’t be moving out of my room over the garage any time soon. But at least I have my own entrance, and my mom doesn’t care if I can’t pay the rent on time. I’d invite you to move in with me—except there isn’t space for any more people now that my grandpa Lewy has come to stay.”

  “I know.” Andi thought of her five-year-old daughter, Mia, and wondered how she would continue to support her on her own.

  Then her gaze shifted to the cupcake. Hallelujah for chocolate to lighten the mood when the weight of the world grew too heavy!

  Split three ways, four this time, the cupcake was less fattening. Also, less guilt afterward. Picking up her share, Andi popped the bite-sized piece into her mouth and closed her eyes, waiting to be transported to heaven.

  What she got was the opposite. Chewing slowly, she glanced about for a glass of water. Not seeing any, she motioned for the waitress and then brushed the crumbs that had fallen from her fingers off her shirt.

  “Dry,” she said, trying to push the remainder of the wretched icing past her tongue.

  “Eck.” Rachel scrunched her face in disgust. “I thought the cupcake was the best thing we had going tonight, but the chocolate didn’t even taste like chocolate.”

  Kim wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Reminds me of cow dung.”

  “This cupcake reminds me of men,” Rachel said, lifting her chin. “Sweet, good-looking, and promising when you first meet. Then dry, messy, and disappointing once you get into the relationship.”

  “They shouldn’t be disappointing,” Kim declared.

  Andi laughed. “Are you talking about cupcakes or men?”

  “Both.”

  Rachel stuck out her tongue. “Andi, you bake better cupcakes than this.”

  “I’ve had lots of practice. I used to bake with Mom, and now I make cupcakes with Mia for birthday parties at school.”

  “We should open a cupcake shop!” Rachel’s face lit up and she clapped her hands together. “You can teach us how to bake, and then we’d never have to eat another disappointing cupcake again!”

  “We’d end up eating them all,” Andi said, imagining her waistline expanding like a balloon. “And I’m already ten pounds more than my ideal weight.”

  “None of us have jobs, we all need money, and we love cupcakes, Kim said, counting off the facts on her fingers. “Opening a cupcake shop is the perfect solution.”

  “It would be fun,” Rachel agreed. “Exciting. And it’s something we could do together.”

  Andi rolled her eyes. “I can’t even pay my rent. How could I start up a small business?”

  “We
could apply for a bank loan,” Kim offered.

  “Astoria doesn’t have a good gourmet cupcake shop,” Rachel pointed out, her tone transforming into a lyrical theatrical performance. “Four months ago on my birthday, we agreed to take charge and change our lives, but nothing changed. If we open a cupcake shop, we could change everything.”

  “Yes, we could change the world with cupcakes.” Andi grinned. “I’ve always dreamed of opening a bakery. Imagine us, running a cupcake shop.”

  “I could decorate the cakes,” Kim added, “make them look like gourmet treats too fancy to pass up.”

  “You could decorate the walls with your paintings, too, like your own art gallery,” Andi encouraged.

  “And we could make different flavors, like black cherry cheesecake, vanilla-hazelnut, and strawberry lemonade,” Rachel continued, as if talking to herself. “I could be the spokesperson and go on TV and tell everyone about our famous gourmet cupcakes. Imagine crowds of people lined up at the door. And I know how to shop.”

  “How would that help?” Andi asked.

  Rachel’s rosy cheeks glowed through the thick layer of foundation she used to hide her freckles. “I could spot deals on supplies, color coordinate the interior, and decorate window displays to draw people through the door.”

  “And you could flirt with all the men,” Andi teased.

  “Of course!” Rachel laughed. “I would hope there would be some men. Can you imagine me in a little pink frilly apron, serving cupcakes and hosting parties—lots of parties?”

  “Instead of a coffee barista, you could be a cupcake barista,” Andi said, playing along. “And we could call the shop Captivated by Cupcakes or Cupcake Obsession.”

  “Andi’s Private Stash,” Kim supplied. “Or maybe The Cupcake Connoisseur.”

  Andi looked back at the cupcake guy, smiled, and said, “Simply Irresistible.”

  “How about Cupcake Connection?” Rachel suggested. “A shop that brings people together over cupcakes. It worked for Andi. Her cupcake man keeps glancing in her direction every five seconds.”