Free Love Takes the Cake by Betsy St. Amant Page B

developing with Charlotte.
    Would Melissa ever have this kind of relationship with someone? Ever feel this connection? Her fiancé had bailed on her. Her accident had been Will’s fault. It didn’t seem fair, or right, that he was free to do as he pleased while she remained so limited.
    He tried to shove the doubts away, but they wouldn’t quite budge. Maybe he was moving too fast. Maybe he should slow down and not get involved—
    Charlotte slid closer to him, craned her neck, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’d love to come with you.”
    He shoved the doubts away and returned her kiss.

How could one man possibly be so talented? Will obviously possessed a variety of survival skills from his time in the service. He knew how to iron, could parallel park on a dime, and sang along to the radio better than the majority of the artists playing. On top of that, boy, could he kiss.
    And she hadn’t even tasted his bacon mac and cheese yet.
    Charlotte shot Will a sidelong glance as he helped her unload the snickerdoodle cookie cake onto the dessert table at the party, this time hosted by one of Adam’s family members. Sometimes that niggling voice in her head tried to convince her that the man standing beside her was too good to be true. Why would a really attractive, sweet, gentlemanly type of guy be interested in her? Somehow, she’d only ever attracted the party guys, the liars, the permanent frat boys with a case of Peter Pan syndrome—afraid to grow up.
    So far, Will Martin seemed like the real deal.
    And it terrified her.
    The other night after their date—and extended kissing session in the parking lot—she’d confided her uncertainties to Julie, who encouraged her to just sit back and enjoy the fairy tale.
    She couldn’t help but finish the unspoken cliché: enjoy the fairy tale . . . while it lasted.
    She tried to shake off the negativity and sense of foreboding. Things were finally going well in the love department. She had to quit being so negative and take Julie’s advice—enjoy the moment and quit expecting it to blow up in her face at any second.
    She set a dessert knife beside the cake. Julie was off duty tonight, babysitting Zoe for her again, so Will offered to help her with whatever she needed. She tried not to think about how awkward it felt arriving at the party as part of a hired service, and then staying as a guest. But Will had invited her, and he was the best man, so surely no one minded.
    She glanced down at her black dress pants and long-sleeved coral top. Hopefully this wasn’t another semiformal party where the other women would be in cocktail dresses. Not that she had one to wear even if it had been. Rarely—no, never—did the occasion arise for her to need one anymore.
    â€œLooks like you’re all set here.” Will stood behind her and rubbed her shoulders. “If you move that cake one more time, I’m going to think you have a twitch.”
    â€œYou’re right. I’ll try to stop.” She winced at how nervous she sounded. She automatically reached out to tweak something else on the table, then stopped herself and turned to face Will instead.
    â€œI’m glad you came.” He smiled down at her. “Everything looks great. And that cake is going to be the hit of the party.”
    â€œI’ll say.” Adam came into the kitchen, snagged a cherry tomato from the veggie tray at the next table, and popped it in his mouth. “Brittany’s already worried about not fitting in her wedding dress after all of The Dough Knot’s treats.”
    Charlotte winced. That was all she needed—Bridezilla to have another reason to attack. She eyed the veggie tray. Maybe she could put the cookie cake in the background and move the veggies—
    â€œDon’t even think about it.” Will tucked her hand through the crook of his arm and tugged her away from the table. He bent to