“You must be Velma?” a woman asked, hustling from the back room. She held a tray of cupcakes and set it down at a table near Velma.
Velma looked from Brek to the young, petite redhead with striking green eyes. “Yes. Hello.”
“I’m Maggie. Brek said you’d be helping him out today. I understand you’re the maid of honor?”
“That’s me.” Velma scooted the chairs out of the way as Maggie pushed two tables together.
“Hey, Maggie.” Brek reentered the room and tucked his phone into the pocket of his jeans. He dropped an air kiss on Maggie’s cheek.
An unreasonable sting of jealousy settled in the center of Velma’s chest.
“Brek.” Maggie’s eyes sparkled. “Always good to see you. Everything’s set. Let me know when your couple arrives. I’ve got a few projects in the back I need to wrap up. Nice to meet you, Velma.”
“You, too,” Velma replied, refusing to further acknowledge the possessive streak that had come over her.
Brek stared at the screen on his phone. His expression had gone tight.
“Everything okay?” Velma asked.
“Band problems.” He thumbed through his contacts.
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Not unless you can figure out why my drummer wants to sell his drum set and move to Belgium. Or my lead singer wants to try out for a Food Network cooking show when we’ve got a tour starting soon. I knew things were too quiet. They need to be practicing and relaxing. Not threatening to jump ship.”
That was bad. “What are you gonna do?”
Brek cursed inventively under his breath. “I have no idea.”
“I am here for cake.” Jase’s announcement boomed through the little shop.
Eli stood beside him at the doorway. “Let’s do this.”
Where were Claire and Dean? Velma glanced to the parking lot. “We should probably wait for the bride and groom.”
“Alternatively, we could pick their flavor for them. Save them the trouble.” Jase sat at the table, apparently ready for his cake.
“They’re here.” Brek strode to the door and held it open for them.
Claire, Heather, their mom and dad, and Dean all hit the cake shop, ready for sugar.
* * *
So far,Claire preferred the coconut cake and Dean liked the vanilla. The motley crew of helpers sat around a table at Maggie’s bakery, helping Dean and Claire pick their final choices.
Brek didn’t seem to have an opinion, as long as they said, “I do.”
“Maybe we could do two tiers of each?” Claire suggested, wiping a stray smear of frosting from Dean’s lips with her thumb.
“As long as there’s vanilla, I don’t care.” Dean kissed the pad of Claire’s thumb.
Velma never would’ve pegged Dean as a vanilla guy—more of a vanilla with a chocolate swirl guy.
Dean whispered something to Claire. She grinned.
Velma looked away. That was what she wanted—someone to kiss the pad of her thumb when they ate cake. And smile at her the way Dean smiled at Claire. And whisper things that made her smile.
“Don’t you think vanilla’s a little dull for a wedding cake?” Velma’s mother asked as though she’d read Velma’s mind. “I mean, it’s yourwedding. The cake should exemplify all you are as a couple.”
