Charleston with a Clever Cougar: A Dance with Danger Mystery #6 by Sara M. Barton Read Free Book Online

me to do?” Doc asked.
    “Do?”
    “You need help. What do you want me to do?”
Those green eyes were on me. “And don’t insult my intelligence by
suggesting you can do whatever you’re doing by yourself. I don’t
take rejection well.”
    What did that mean? I was afraid to ask. I
took a moment before answering. I realized I was actually
considering his offer. What I really needed to do was to take
inventory of what I had on hand, what I would need by Thursday, and
then I would double it, just in case anything went wrong. In the
warmer months, I didn’t use this strategy, but when there was a
risk of a late winter storm, I learned it was best to be prepared.
When I did the Rorchak wedding three years ago, Marnie wanted a
winter wonderland theme and she got it, with a big-time,
traffic-paralyzing blizzard. Unfortunately, it resulted in a power
failure two days before the wedding, while the cake was baking in
the oven. I had to scramble to buy the ingredients to make another,
wait for the power to be turned back on, and then I was up all
night putting it all together. Ever since, I made a point of making
sure I had enough to redo any disasters. That way, if the weather
was inclement, I could still be ready for Saturday, even if I had
to walk in the snow to get to the shop.
    “If you’re sure you want to do this....”
    “I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t prepared to see
it through,” he replied gruffly. “Bring it on, sister.”
    “Okay. Let’s go into the kitchen. I have to
check supplies.” I slipped past him, all too aware of how close he
was. Only a few inches taller than me, it was hard to escape those
eyes. They seemed to follow me everywhere I went. “Can you please
give me an estimate of how much flour I have, third shelf up. Same
with the sugar, the confectioner’s sugar, the baking powder, the
baking....”
    “What kind of estimate?”
    “Half a bag, quarter of a bag....”
    A hour later, Doc and I were in his van, on
our way to shop at BJ’s Club. He had offered after I’d consumed
some soup, a muscle relaxant, some Advil, and coffee. While I was
seated at one of the shop’s little tables, Daisy informed me that
Doc made the coffee for the shop, that he even knew how to operate
the bean grinder. She was very impressed. Carole sat with me for a
few minutes while I finished my coffee, telling me he had arrived
at the shop a little after seven to ask Walter how I was and he
ended up staying to pitch in when the shop was flooded with
customers. And now he was to be my chauffeur for the afternoon.
    “I should pay you for your time,” I told Doc
as we crossed the bridge into Old Lyme, barreling along I-95.
    “Not necessary. Happy to do it,” was all he
said, his eyes on the road.
    “Well, I guess I’ll have to pay you in free
coffee,” I smiled.
    “That depends,” he replied. “I only want to
drink coffee I enjoy. None of that stale stuff.”
    “Oh,” I laughed lightly, “so that’s the way
it’s going to be, is it?”
    “Throw in the blueberry muffins and you’ve
got a deal.”
    “You should try my banana muffins. Those are
pretty good, too. And my peach cobbler muffins....”
    “I’ll think about it.” For a moment, I almost
thought I saw a smile forming on his face, but then it was gone and
he changed the subject. “How are you going to do all this baking
for the wedding? You can’t really do any heavy lifting.”
    “Well, I was going to ask Walter to help me
mix the cake and bake it. And we have to bake the cookies, too. I
thought I could ask Daisy to help me on that.”
    “When do you normally do your baking for
weddings?” he asked. The question surprised me.
    “When do I normally do the baking? Why?”
    “Walter starts early, at four in the morning,
right? He does all the bread, because the dough has to rise for a
couple of hours before baking. From ten to two, you folks deal with
the lunch bunch. Doesn’t that mean the cake and cookies get baked
between two and