Read Online Sugar Rush by Donna Kauffman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Donna Kauffman
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nearly do you justice, and of course, we all think you’re just the handsomest thing to ever put on an apron.”
“Chef’s jacket,” he said, but his responding smile was wide and sincere.
Lani watched the scene unfold, thinking it was sort of like having an out-of-body experience. Only she wished she really could leave her body at that moment, and be just about anywhere else.
“And please, you can call me Baxter.” He glanced at Lani. “I only make my employees call me Chef.” He leaned down—way down—so he could put his mouth near Alva’s ear. “I’ll leave it your call on the Hot Cakes part, however.”
Lani thought Alva might simply expire right there on the spot. She’d never seen the woman blush before—ever—that she could recall. Alva might look tiny and fragile, but she was pretty much bulletproof, in that steel magnolia kind of way most women on Sugarberry were. At the moment, however, Alva was as bright pink as the plump, perfect raspberries Lani had placed on top of each and every one of the twelve dozen surviving Kiwanis cakes that morning.
“Why, listen to you!” Alva exclaimed, trying to look properly shocked at his cheeky forwardness, but clearly enamored straight down to her sensible senior pumps. “Aren’t you just the charming devil.” Alva’s hands still fluttered about. “I was just telling Miss Lani May how excited we all are to have you here.”
Baxter glanced at Lani with a lifted brow and a delighted twinkle in his dark brown eyes. She scowled back at him, then quickly shifted to a sunny smile when Alva glanced from one to the other.
Alva turned right back to Baxter, and continued gushing. “And to think you’re going to film your television show right here on our little island. Why, I can’t even believe our good fortune. Perhaps I could interest you in a cup of coffee? You see, I write this little column for the local paper, and I’d love to get a one-on-one interview.”
Alva glanced back at Lani then, with an overly bright smile and an eyebrow wiggle that only Lani could see—apparently a plea not to out her little white lie to Baxter—then she was all beaming smiles again as she turned back to him and put her small, blue-veined hand on his arm, as if she was fragile and needing his strength for support. “What do you say, Mr. Dunne?”
Fragile , Lani thought, if pit bulls were fragile . It had been more of a Betty White lie.
“Baxter,” he corrected, still all smiles. “And I’m honored—flattered—but I’m afraid I don’t have time to spare at the moment.”
Alva looked instantly deflated, but Lani saw the steel still in her spine. Deflated, maybe, but if she knew Alva, far from defeated.
Baxter looked up at Lani, and his smile grew. He covered Alva’s hand with his own and patted it. “You see, Miss—?”
“Liles,” Alva said, not missing a beat, though her cheeks pinked right back up when he patted her hand. “Alva Liles. Alva to you.”
“Miss Alva.” The wattage of his smile almost made Lani blush, and she’d thought herself at least somewhat immune given her lengthy exposure to it. “I would love a chat,” Baxter went on to say, “but I need to confer with Miss Trusdale about the details of the show.”
“With Lani May?” Alva looked back at her. “But, I thought you said you didn’t know—?”
“It’s rather a surprise,” Baxter cut in, then looked up and locked his chocolate-eyed gaze directly on Lani’s.
Which was the moment Lani realized things were about to get a whole lot more challenging for her in the “I can deal with Baxter” situation.
“I’ll need a kitchen setup, and Leilani’s—um, Lani May’s—little shop here is perfect.” His eyes twinkled brightly as he used her island nickname, with a bit of a quirked brow thrown in, just to be utterly incorrigible about it. “I’m hoping she’ll agree to let us film some of our episodes of Hot Cakes right here.” His smile widened to his trademark
“Chef’s jacket,” he said, but his responding smile was wide and sincere.
Lani watched the scene unfold, thinking it was sort of like having an out-of-body experience. Only she wished she really could leave her body at that moment, and be just about anywhere else.
“And please, you can call me Baxter.” He glanced at Lani. “I only make my employees call me Chef.” He leaned down—way down—so he could put his mouth near Alva’s ear. “I’ll leave it your call on the Hot Cakes part, however.”
Lani thought Alva might simply expire right there on the spot. She’d never seen the woman blush before—ever—that she could recall. Alva might look tiny and fragile, but she was pretty much bulletproof, in that steel magnolia kind of way most women on Sugarberry were. At the moment, however, Alva was as bright pink as the plump, perfect raspberries Lani had placed on top of each and every one of the twelve dozen surviving Kiwanis cakes that morning.
“Why, listen to you!” Alva exclaimed, trying to look properly shocked at his cheeky forwardness, but clearly enamored straight down to her sensible senior pumps. “Aren’t you just the charming devil.” Alva’s hands still fluttered about. “I was just telling Miss Lani May how excited we all are to have you here.”
Baxter glanced at Lani with a lifted brow and a delighted twinkle in his dark brown eyes. She scowled back at him, then quickly shifted to a sunny smile when Alva glanced from one to the other.
Alva turned right back to Baxter, and continued gushing. “And to think you’re going to film your television show right here on our little island. Why, I can’t even believe our good fortune. Perhaps I could interest you in a cup of coffee? You see, I write this little column for the local paper, and I’d love to get a one-on-one interview.”
Alva glanced back at Lani then, with an overly bright smile and an eyebrow wiggle that only Lani could see—apparently a plea not to out her little white lie to Baxter—then she was all beaming smiles again as she turned back to him and put her small, blue-veined hand on his arm, as if she was fragile and needing his strength for support. “What do you say, Mr. Dunne?”
Fragile , Lani thought, if pit bulls were fragile . It had been more of a Betty White lie.
“Baxter,” he corrected, still all smiles. “And I’m honored—flattered—but I’m afraid I don’t have time to spare at the moment.”
Alva looked instantly deflated, but Lani saw the steel still in her spine. Deflated, maybe, but if she knew Alva, far from defeated.
Baxter looked up at Lani, and his smile grew. He covered Alva’s hand with his own and patted it. “You see, Miss—?”
“Liles,” Alva said, not missing a beat, though her cheeks pinked right back up when he patted her hand. “Alva Liles. Alva to you.”
“Miss Alva.” The wattage of his smile almost made Lani blush, and she’d thought herself at least somewhat immune given her lengthy exposure to it. “I would love a chat,” Baxter went on to say, “but I need to confer with Miss Trusdale about the details of the show.”
“With Lani May?” Alva looked back at her. “But, I thought you said you didn’t know—?”
“It’s rather a surprise,” Baxter cut in, then looked up and locked his chocolate-eyed gaze directly on Lani’s.
Which was the moment Lani realized things were about to get a whole lot more challenging for her in the “I can deal with Baxter” situation.
“I’ll need a kitchen setup, and Leilani’s—um, Lani May’s—little shop here is perfect.” His eyes twinkled brightly as he used her island nickname, with a bit of a quirked brow thrown in, just to be utterly incorrigible about it. “I’m hoping she’ll agree to let us film some of our episodes of Hot Cakes right here.” His smile widened to his trademark
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