Honey Pie (Cupcake Club) - By Donna Kauffman Page 0,83

introduce you to la dulce de la cupcakes.”

Honey laughed. Clearly he wasn’t kidding about the bullshit. His French was hilariously inaccurate, but he sounded damn sexy saying it. She imagined he got away with far more than mangling an entire foreign language. “Weren’t you just leaving?”

“For you, bella, I’d be honored to make the introductions. Consider it a favor to your aunt.”

Honey grinned, feeling charmed, amused, and maybe even a little flustered—which, given he was also clearly gay, either said a lot about his bullshit skills or even more about the sad state of her only recently reborn libido.

He opened the door with a flourish, then leaned in before she could enter. “So, Bea was always a laying-on-of-the-hands type. I’m guessing you’re more of a—”

“Laying-off type,” she finished, nodding with him. “It’s a little more intense for me than it was for Bea. Direct contact is the trigger.”

“Understood,” he whispered, leaning closer as the noise and music inside the kitchen came thumping out through the open doorway. “You’re safe with me.” He straightened and made an exaggerated doorman flourish. “Now, entrer vous with your bad self.”

Already laughing, Honey met the cupcake ladies. And, much to her delighted surprise, that set the tone for the evening. Alva immediately came over with her official cupcake club apron for the evening. Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow.

“A pirate is a girl’s best friend,” she said with a penciled eyebrow wiggle.

Franco introduced Honey to Charlotte Bhandari, who had known Lani since they were in culinary school. She was striking with her beautiful, long black hair and exotic Indian accent. Honey had thought her more formal than the rest of the crew until she and Lani shared a snicker over the inadvertently phallic results of a roulade gone terribly wrong.

Honey had also been introduced to Dre, who’d been there since the start of the club along with Alva and Charlotte. She learned their get-togethers had begun a few years before when they’d stayed after hours with Lani while she worked off her brand-new bakery—and new relationship—stresses by, what else . . . baking. Dre was in her early twenties, a recent art school grad and dedicated foodie who had met Lani when she’d proposed a shop logo and marketing ideas as part of a school project. She’d been Lani’s first part-time hire, and though she now worked full-time for a graphic art and ad agency in Savannah, she still pitched in when she could and seldom missed a “bitchy bake” as Alva called it. Honey was mostly fascinated by Dre’s midnight blue Mohawk, eyebrow piercing, and what looked like a gorgeous fairy tattoo on the back of her neck.

Honey met Kit, of peanut pie fame and manager of the about-to-open Babycakes, and got a good look at the incredible piece of artwork designed by Dre that was the official Babycakes shop apron. A map of Sugarberry had been turned into the most complex, delightful, fully detailed fairyland Honey had ever seen. “We definitely have to talk,” she blurted out in awe and already in love with Dre’s artistic point of view.

“Coolness,” Dre said in what was her standard, understated demeanor—which didn’t translate at all into an understated passion for what she did. Immediately, she produced a sheaf of drawing paper and slid it across the worktable to Honey. “I checked out your website. Awesome work. I had some ideas for signage, postcards, shop aprons. If you’re interested.”

Honey flipped open the folder, and her jaw had dropped straight to the floor as she glanced through the first few pages. “Oh my God. These are”—she looked up at Dre—“coolness.”

The corner of Dre’s mouth crooked into something that resembled a grin. Or it could have been the lip ring. Either way, she seemed happy, then ducked her head and went back to work on some elaborate chocolate structure Honey couldn’t begin to describe.

Riley was the only one missing from the festivities. She and Quinn Brannigan—the drop-dead gorgeous, famous Southern mystery author—had taken her houseboat down to the Keys to meet up with some foodie friends from her Chicago days. She’d done all the food styling for Baxter and Lani’s latest cookbook, and had done a mouth-watering job. Honey knew that firsthand as Lani had gifted her with an advanced copy, signed by all three of them.

Honey had seen Lani’s hot British hubby on television, and had met Kit’s significant other Morgan briefly in the alley behind the garage when her mind had been on other things, but not