Extraits

One "Tyler Matthews and Keogh Graham are buying a franchise," Tate Harper, the financial wizard behind the bakery Fairy Tale Cupcakes, announced at the weekly staff meeting. Melanie DeLaura and Angie Harper exchanged an amused glance and burst out laughing. The three of them had been best friends since middle school. When Mel had quit a high-stress marketing job to become a professional cupcake baker, both Angie and Tate had joined her. Now Angie and Tate were married with an adorable daughter, Emari, while Mel had married her childhood crush, Joe DeLaura, who also happened to be the middle of Angie's seven older brothers. "Oh, honey, that's hilarious," Angie said. She reached up to tighten the messy bun she'd twisted her long dark hair into as her laughter had shaken it loose. "I'm not joking," Tate said. "Right, because the two best players on the Arizona Scorpions NFL team are suddenly going to become cupcake bakers?" Mel asked. She rolled her eyes then studied the plate of cupcakes on the table between them. It was ten o'clock in the morning, and while she never let the time of day dictate her cupcake consumption, she did wonder if it was too early to have one right now. She glanced at the flavors and decided on a strawberry cupcake, which, loaded with chunks of real strawberry, had a very high fruit-to-cake ratio. So it was more of a fruit salad than a cake, really, and that was healthy. Right? Right. She reached for one of the pink confections, feeling very virtuous. "I'm not kidding. I have the paperwork right here," Tate insisted. He gestured to the stack of papers beside him. The three of them were seated in the front of the bakery in one of the booths beside the large picture window that looked out onto the street. The bakery's pink interior with black accents embraced the 1950s heyday of Old Town Scottsdale, the neighborhood where they'd all grown up and subsequently opened their first bakery. The shop hadn't yet opened for the day, and every Monday morning they took advantage of the quiet to go over the business particulars. Tate was in charge of the finances and the franchises, Melanie was the executive chef in charge of creating their cupcake flavors, and Angie was Mel's assistant, keeping the flagship bakery in Scottsdale leading the way for all of their franchises. "You're just teasing me because you know Keogh Graham is my NFL husband," Mel said. "Not nice." Tate shoved a hand through his wavy light brown hair, looking exasperated. "I'm being honest. Why does no one believe me?" "'I admire that honesty. That's a noble quality. Never lose that,'" Angie said. She gave Mel a side-eye. "Mrs. Doubtfire," Mel identified the movie quote. It was a game the three of them had played since they were middle school movie buffs. She and Angie exchanged a high five and turned back to Tate. There was a knock on the front door just as Marty Zelaznik, their octogenarian counter help, pushed through the swinging door from the kitchen into the front of the bakery. Scrawny and bald, Marty strode forward with his usual take-charge attitude, and Mel wondered what he'd been like as a younger man. She had a feeling he'd been a force of nature. "You want me to get rid of them?" Marty asked. "We're not open for another ten minutes." Tate glanced past Mel and Angie, who had their backs to the window. "No, go ahead and let them in," Tate said. Mel powered down her tablet since it was clear the meeting was over. "Thanks for the update on everything, Tate, and nice try on the football player franchise. Ha! That was a good one." Tate glanced at the door as Marty turned the dead bolt. A small smile curved Tate's lips as he slid out of his side of the booth. Marty pulled the door open, greeting the customers in his usual exuberant Marty way. "Welcome to Fairy Tale Cupca . . ." Marty staggered back from the door. His mouth dropped open as two of the largest men Mel had ever seen entered the bakery. It took her only a moment to recognize Keogh Graham. Tall, dark, and handsome, with his trademark braids that reached his shoulders and his wide grin, it was as if he'd stepped right out of Monday Night Football and into the bakery. Mel clutched the bib of her apron and looked at Tate. "That's Keogh Graham," she said. "I know," Tate said. And while he didn't use those words, his tone reeked of I told you so. Angie grabbed Mel's forearm and squeezed it hard. In a shriek-whisper, she said, "And Tyler Matthews is with him." Not only were the two NFL football players massive, they were both ridiculously good-looking. As in movie star gorgeous, despite Keogh's broken nose and the deep scar on Tyler's chin. If anything, those flaws made them even more handsome. "Good morning, Tate, ladies," Keogh said. His voice was deep, and he glanced at Marty, who stood frozen, and said, "Sir . . . er . . . are you all right?" Marty's head bobbled on his skinny neck in the affirmative but it was clear he had lost his powers of speech. "Can I get you a glass of water or something?" Tyler asked him. He ran a hand through his pale brown hair while his blue eyes narrowed with concern. Marty shook his head from side to side. Tate stepped forward with his hand outstretched. "Come on in, guys. I think my colleagues are a bit starstruck. Just give them a sec." "Mel," Angie hissed as Keogh and Tyler shook Tate's hand and then walked towards them. "Yeah?" Mel answered. "Is this real? Is your NFL boyfriend actually here in the building or am I hallucinating?" "Um, that's NFL husband," Mel corrected her. "And if you're delusional then so am I." "Oh, goody, a mass hallucination," Angie said. "I always wanted one of those . . . said no one ever." Tate gestured for the men to sit and Tyler and Keogh slid onto the bench seat opposite Mel and Angie. They had to adjust themselves, sitting a bit sideways to accommodate their large frames in the booth. Mel wanted to reach across the table and poke Keogh's hand just to see if he was real, but she was aware that this might be considered rude so she decided against it. Tate grabbed a chair from a nearby table and sat at the end of the booth. He grinned at Keogh and Tyler. "Your timing is perfect. I just told the girls you were going to buy a franchise but they didn't believe me." Tyler and Keogh glanced at Angie and Mel. Their expressions were earnest and Mel thought she might be having an out-of-body experience. These guys wanted to buy a cupcake bakery? She couldn't wrap her brain around it. Correctly reading her expression, Keogh said, "It's no joke. We want in." "Key has convinced me that owning a small business is a sound investment," Tyler said. "It is," Keogh insisted. "We need to have something to do after we retire, like how George Foreman took up barbecuing after he hung up his gloves at the end of his boxing career." "Barbecue feels a bit more masculine," Tyler said. He flexed as he turned to study the bakery, and the muscles under his T-shirt rippled. "There's an awful lot of pink in here. Not that there's anything wrong with that." It was true. Even Tate had balked about the level of pink Mel had insisted upon when they first opened their doors. She tried to see it through the football players' eyes. Pink vinyl upholstery in the booths, pink trim on the windows and walls, and pink accents everywhere. Okay, sure, it was a lot of pink, but Mel thought it was cheerful. She also thought people wouldn't balk at the color pink if it was called light red. "We can tone it down in your franchise," Tate said. "Maybe skew a little more aqua than pink." "Or we could do it up in the team colors," Tyler said. "The Arizona Scorpions' trademark orange and black." That slapped Mel right out of her stupor. "No." Tyler looked surprised as if he wasn't accustomed to hearing that word and had to process its meaning for a beat. Tate shot Mel an exasperated look. "What I mean." Mel paused to clear her throat. "Orange and black are really a seasonal color combo, you know, for Halloween, so you probably want something a bit more far-reaching." "Aqua would be cool," Keogh said. "Right . . . sure . . . absolutely," Mel said. She felt her face get warm. Silently, she chastised herself. You are a happily married woman, get it together. "Yeah, we could do that," Tyler agreed. "Although, the Seattle Booms, our rivals, have aqua as one of their colors." "We're talking bakeries, not football," Keogh said. "Get your mind off the game for a second." Tyler raised his hands in the air. "Sorry. Force of habit." Both men glanced past her with their eyebrows raised. Mel turned to find Marty standing on the booth seat behind her. He had his cell phone out and was attempting to take a selfie of himself and the football players. "Marty, get down," Angie cried. "Before you fall and break something." Marty ignored her, shooting a peace sign and winking at the reflected image of himself and the players. "See? That's why we need our colors," Tyler said. "Fans are going to want to buy our cupcakes in a bakery that lets people know they're in Scorpion territory." "You can just make one wall an Instagram wall," Marty said. "Then customers can take selfies with life-size pics of you. It'll be great." Keogh and Tyler exchanged a glance, and Keogh said, "That's not a bad idea." Marty hopped down from his perch. "Not bad? It's genius." Tyler looked like he was going to debate the description, but Keogh jumped in and said, "It is. We'll add it to our idea list." "Back to the color scheme, I don't think given your desired proximity to the stadium that you have to worry about anyone mistaking your bakery for a secret Seattle fandom," Tate said. "Speaking of which, how's the location scouting going?" "We narrowed it down to two places," Keogh said. "Both were former restaurants, so it should make for an easy transition. We were hoping you'd come out and check them out and give us your opinion." Tate nodded. He glanced at Mel. "We can do that, right?" "Sure." Mel nodded. Her voice came out high and squeaky. She let out a nervous laugh. This could not be happening. Keogh Graham, a man she had watched quarterback the Arizona Scorpions for five seasons, was sitting in her bakery talking about opening a franchise. Suddenly, she felt queasy. She was clearly on fangirl overload. Tate glanced at her with a knowing look. He pushed the glass of water she'd been drinking earlier across the table so it was right in front of her and gave her a pointed look. Mel took a long sip. It helped a bit. "Can I get you guys anything?" Angie asked. She hopped up from the booth as if suddenly remembering her manners. "Cupcakes all around?" Keogh grinned. "I never say no to cupcakes." "Me, neither, and milk to wash them down with if it's no trouble," Tyler said. He smiled, too, and Angie looked momentarily stunned to be on the receiving end of so much male attention. Tate cleared his throat and Angie turned to look at her husband. As if he'd broken her trance, she gave him a quick hug, and said, "Be right back." Mel wanted to follow her, but Tate turned to her and said, "Keogh and Tyler have never worked in a restaurant before. Do you have time to teach them the basics?" "Teach us . . . wait . . . what?" Tyler asked. He looked wary. "It's a requirement of all of our franchise owners that you learn how to bake the cupcakes that you sell," Tate said. "Not all of them and you don't have to do the actual baking, you can hire a chef. But it's part of our franchising qualifications that you agree to learn the basics because we've found that the owners who understood how much work it is to craft the cupcakes were much more successful than those who didn't." "That makes sense," Keogh said. "No." Tyler shook his head. "I am not wearing that." He pointed to Mel's hot pink apron, which sported an embroidered cupcake on the bib. "My masculinity would shrivel up and die on the spot." "Aw, come on," Keogh cajoled him. "We wear pink in October to raise money for breast cancer." "That's diff-" Tyler began but his words were cut off when a navy blue apron hit him square in the face. It dropped to his lap and Marty, who was standing across the bakery, said, "I hear you. We also have navy, too." He lobbed another one that Keogh caught in the air. "Now this I can live with," Tyler said. He pulled the bib strap over his head to try it on. Keogh did the same. They looked child-sized on these behemoths. Mel ripped her gaze away from Keogh's muscle-hardened chest and turned to Tate. "I'm sorry, what were we talking about?" Tate gestured for her to drink more water as if Mel wasn't tracking because she was dehydrated and not because there were two enormous football players in their bakery, talking about learning how to bake from her. How was she supposed to teach these guys to cook? Would they even fit in her kitchen? "Do either of you have any experience with baking?" she asked. "I can't even boil water," Tyler confessed. "If it weren't for food delivery apps, I'd starve to death." "It's true," Keogh said. "He tried to microwave something once and almost burned down his apartment." "And how about you?" Tate asked. "Any experience?" "I used to help my mom cook when I lived at home, but I haven't had much time to keep up my skills since going pro," Keogh said. "That's all right," Tate said. "Mel will get you both cooking in no time. Right, Mel?" "Right," Mel said. Her voice was still coming out a bit breathy so she cleared her throat and added, "No problem." "You are in for a treat, guys." Angie returned with a tray loaded with cupcakes. "I tried to cover all of the food groups. So we have your Death by Chocolate, Orange Dreamsicle, Cookie Crumble, and Tinkerbell cupcakes. Marty, I left a couple of glasses of milk in the kitchen. Will you bring them out?" Excerpted from Fondant Fumble by Jenn McKinlay All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.