Batter Up (Bachelors of Buttermilk Falls Book 1)

T
he selected bachelor
of Buttermilk Falls stood frozen, waiting for Emma Stevens to deliver the life-changing news. She hoped she wouldn’t disappoint him.

“Okay, fellas, step back and take a load off. The batter needs some breathing room to do its magic,” Abby Stevens ordered the male patrons who gathered around the Sugar Spoon bakeshop’s shiny pink counter—the typical Monday night crowd. All single guys, each hoping Emma would pick him for the following week. “Emma will share the news when she’s ready.” She spun around and crossed her fingers. “I just know it’s going to be Bridget Dobson. I can feel it.”

Emma smiled at her younger cousin. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen the budding bakery apprentice and fiery redhead bounce off the walls with excitement. It happened every Monday night.

Reaching down, Emma grabbed their grandmother’s shimmering pink mixing spoon from underneath the counter. Once her customers left, she’d lock it up in her office safe. In the wrong hands, who knew what could happen.

Her cousin’s warm breath tickled the back of her neck. She glanced behind her, and Abby quickly stepped back. “Sorry.”

“Shall we do this?” Emma asked, directing her question to Tom Reed, her dear high school friend. Tom was last week’s randomly drawn bachelor, eager to change his status on Facebook from “single” to “in a relationship.”

Tom straightened his well-worn Yankees ball cap, which hid the fact he was balding. “You know, Emma, I didn’t believe you could do this, but Chad said it worked one hundred percent for him. I thought, ‘What the hell.’”

Emma laughed. Come to think of it, she’d never seen Tom in her bakery on Monday night until last week. The guys had attributed it to beginner’s luck when Emma drew his name. Maybe it was—or maybe there were some special forces working here. She often thought her dead grandmother’s spirit roamed the Sugar Spoon, especially on Monday night—or Batter Up night, as it was known by the town’s residents. Emma had a knack for always picking the right bachelor out of the hat who was ready to meet his match, commit to her fully, and head to the altar.

“You thought, ‘What the hell?’” Abby stepped around the counter and swatted Tom. “That’s not romantic. No wonder you need our help.” She slid onto the empty barstool next to him and sighed. “Men.”

Emma smiled at the banter between the two. She loved everything about this weekly event. The idea that she had a huge role in bringing two people together who were meant to fall in love made her incredibly giddy. She just hid it better than Abby. Monday nights also brought a different kind of energy into the bakery. It probably had something to do with all the testosterone in the air.

“You ready?” She picked up a tiny bottle of pink heart sprinkles. They were just for show. Everyone thought it was the sprinkles that were enchanted, but she knew differently. Abby kept that secret, too.

Tom nodded and leaned in. “I’m ready.”

She twisted the top off and lightly tapped the bottle, watching the tiny pink hearts float into the white mixing bowl. “You know, Tom, nothing’s one hundred percent guaranteed.”

Abby snorted her disbelief. Okay, in the last three years, Emma did have a perfect track record. All marriages, no divorces. She’d give her cousin that. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, reciting the familiar love spell in her head.

Even with her eyes shut, Tom’s gaze burned through her. Emma really hoped she’d continue her streak. A military veteran, Tom had served four years in Iraq before his arm was blown off by a suicide bomber. After months spent in rehabilitation at Walter Reed Army Medical Center, he returned home earlier this year with a prosthetic one. She knew from seeing him around town that adjusting to his new reality wasn’t easy. Still, he had such a positive attitude. If any of her bachelors deserved a happy ending, well, it was Tom Reed.

“Is she okay?” Emma heard Tom ask Abby.

“Give her a minute,” Abby replied, her voice full of agitation. “You men have no patience.”

Seconds later, Emma’s eyes flew open. She smiled down at the smooth batter and continued to move her spoon, this time with light strokes. “So, Tom, what kind of traits are you looking for in a wife?”

“I don’t know.” He shifted uncomfortably and looked at his younger brother, Adam, for help.

Emma smiled encouragingly at her friend. “Someone who likes the outdoors, maybe?”

Abby reached over and tugged Tom’s shirt. “Why, Bridget loves the outdoors. Just the other day she arranged a hiking trip up Buttermilk Ladder. Of course, I thought she’d lost her ever-living mind. God, I hate that hill.” She raised a suggestive eyebrow. “Perhaps you could be her mountain man?”

Tom’s cheeks now matched the Sugar Spoon’s hot pink countertops. Leave it to Abby to embarrass the poor guy. Emma had always liked her classmate whom she’d known since elementary school. They both had an interest in writing and had been co-editors on their high school newspaper. A story they’d written together on the rise of organic farming even won them a state trophy and a trip to Washington, D.C. during their senior year. She had a framed picture of them both shaking President Bush’s hand in her office.

Tom had traded in his interest in journalism to follow the footsteps of both his father and grandfather by joining the army. Now, at twenty-eight, he’d enrolled in college and planned on going for his English degree with the hopes of becoming a high school English teacher.

He’d make a good one. Emma suspected that, along with embarking on a teaching career, he might also be itching to settle down and start a family. That’s what all men who stayed in Buttermilk Falls eventually did. Sometimes they just needed a little help finding that special woman to share their life with, and that’s where Emma came in.

She couldn’t hide her excitement when she pulled his name out of the hat last week to be her next bachelor up. What were the odds that she’d draw his name the first time he ever tried? Perhaps her grandmother’s spirit did intervene, or maybe it had something to do with Emma adding in one or two extra pieces of paper with his name to up his odds. She smirked. It was probably a combination of both.

Glancing down into the creamy beige batter, this was by far her favorite moment. “Okay, my friend, it’s time.”

Tom straightened. “Lay it on me.”

“You sure you’re really ready?” Emma asked playfully. “We could always just bake the batter . . .”

Abby slammed her hands down on the counter. “Enough already. You’ve built the suspense, Emma. Show us!”

“All right. Calm down.” After doing this every Monday for the last three years, Emma knew very well that the expected outcome only took a few seconds. Still, every cake batter came with its own batch of excitement. She liked to build the suspense.

Setting her spoon down, she motioned for him to peer in with her. As they hovered over the bowl, she could smell his spicy aftershave. She missed having a masculine scent this close to her. It had been a while.

She brushed off the thought and focused on the batter. There it was. The first pretty pink letter began to form.

Abby peeked in and clapped her hands. “I knew it! That’s a
B
for sure!” She spun around. “Gentlemen! We have a
B
!”

The bakeshop erupted in a chorus of hoots and thunderous applause. It didn’t escape Emma what a funny sight it was to see these manly men cheering for her batter. It only happened in Buttermilk Falls and only in her bakeshop. Over the years, women had tried to join in on the fun, but it never worked. She couldn’t predict the future for bachelorettes. The batter either had a soft spot for helping men or a wicked sense of humor.

Emma touched Tom’s shoulder and gave him a supportive squeeze as they watched the next six letters appear. “Well, look at that. It looks like your wife-to-be is named Bridget. I think we all know the Bridget in question.”

He took off his baseball cap and placed his hand on his head. “I stop by the library every Monday night hoping to see Bridget Dobson.” He paused, his face turning red. “I’ve wanted to ask her out for a long time—even before I went off to war. It’s just she’s so beautiful. I didn’t think she’d be interested in me . . .” His voice trailed off as he stared hopefully into the mixing bowl.

Abby slapped his back. “Well, there’s only one way to find out. The library closes at eight o’clock. You’d better hustle.” She hopped off her stool, adding, “Maybe you shouldn’t tell her you were here tonight. Wouldn’t want to scare her off.”

Tom stood and repositioned his baseball cap. “Thank you, Emma. Do I owe you anything for this?” He pointed to the batter, smiling at what he saw.

“You’re very welcome, and no.” She winked. “At least not yet. You can hire us to bake your wedding cake when you’re ready.”

“Deal. Well, I guess I should go.” Tom stepped toward the door, but hesitated. Turning, he barreled around the counter and hoisted Emma in the air. “Whoo-hoo!”

Cheers again erupted throughout the bakery. “Drinks on me! I mean cupcakes. It’s all on me.”

Emma put her hands on his shoulders, letting him enjoy the moment. “Okay, you silly goof . . . you heard Abby. Go ask Bridget out.”

Tom set her down gently and high-fived his friends. “I’ll see you guys later. Bye, Em. Bye, Abby.”

“Bye,” they said in unison.

A few minutes later, Abby whipped out a hat and Emma drew the name of next week’s bachelor. It would be Bob from the bank. Emma said good-bye to the patrons as they filed out the door. No doubt they were headed around the corner to the Buttermilk Tavern to enjoy the remainder of the game with something that had a little more of a kick than her cupcakes. She didn’t blame them. She could use a beer, too.

She’d often thought about serving alcohol, but that would involve acquiring a liquor license. She didn’t want to draw too much outside attention to Batter Up night. The guys seemed okay with stopping by to support the selected bachelor for an hour or so, having a few cupcakes, and then heading to the Tavern for drinks. There really wasn’t a reason for Emma to change the format. It seemed to work.

While Abby locked the front door and flipped over the open sign, Emma began pouring the batter into two silver cupcake tins. She never let it go to waste after it had fulfilled its original purpose, not when there would be many customers tomorrow demanding her Tuesday cupcake special. The seniors from the nearby retirement home especially loved to stop by.

“Another happy bachelor.” Abby sighed and hopped up onto the stool Tom had vacated. “I never get tired of this.”

“I know you don’t. That’s why you are the perfect apprentice.” Emma spooned some batter and handed it to Abby. “Here. Taste.”

Abby didn’t hesitate, her eyes rolling back in delight. “Delicious.” She waved the spoon in the air. “Tom and Bridget are going to make such a cute couple. Can you believe he’s liked her even before he went to Iraq?”

Emma nodded. “I happen to know that Bridget has a big fat crush on him, too.”

“I knew it. She’s been getting us all together for
Army Wives
marathons. We’re just the catalyst he needed to make his big move.” She let out a dramatic sigh. “I feel so used.”

“Me, too,” Emma joked back. “But it is good for business since our couples always need a wedding cake.”

“True.” Abby paused, smoothing her long ponytail. “So, Emma . . . I was thinking . . .”

“Oh, no,” Emma quipped. “Not that.”

Abby pulled out a napkin from a nearby dispenser and set the spoon down. “Can I try?”

“Try what?” Emma asked the question, but she already knew the answer.

“You know. To see if I can do it.”

“I don’t know.” Emma straightened her soft pink apron. It was one of many that she had stored in her office. “Why don’t we wait until next Monday? Bob would be an excellent bachelor for you to practice on. He’s super sweet.”
And would probably find it funny if her cousin messed up the spell and conjured his mother’s name.

“That’s a whole week away.” Abby’s face fell but bounced back up. “Let me try it on you!”

Emma shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. You know that. I’ve tried for years, but for some reason it only works on men.”

“Can we try again? Please, Em?”

Emma grabbed the tins and walked back to the kitchen. She knew how much her cousin wanted to see if she could cast the spell on her own. It would probably be years before Abby could successfully pull it off. It certainly hadn’t happened overnight for Emma.

Even if her cousin had beginner’s luck, Emma already knew the answer. Her heart belonged to Michael. Sure, it sucked that her boyfriend of five years had decided on a whim he needed a change and moved to Manhattan. She secretly hoped once he got a year of New York City-living out of his system, he’d move back to Buttermilk Falls. How could he not? It’s where she was, after all.

She curled her long blond ponytail around her finger. Of course, he’d have to beg for her forgiveness before she’d even consider taking him back. Calling only twice in the last five months was really unacceptable, even if they were broken up.

Opening the oven, she set the cupcake tins in and turned it on. If Michael did miss her and planned to return, perhaps the batter could offer a clue. It had been over a year since she’d tried it on a female. The last time had been an utter disaster. Her college roommate, Monica, had burst into tears when a name didn’t appear.

What would be the harm in letting Abby attempt the spell? Returning to the counter, Emma conceded. “Okay, you can try it.”

“Yes!” Abby pumped her fists and raced into the kitchen. Within seconds, she had all the ingredients she needed to conjure the spell. In no time, she had a thick batter mixture in the bowl. “Do you remember when we’d try to conjure up the spell as kids? We used to have so much fun.”

Emma smiled at that memory. She, Abby, and Abby’s older brother, Josh, often tried to cast spells as kids in their grandmother’s kitchen. “Yes. But grandmother never let us practice with this.” She handed Abby the enchanted mixing spoon. “Now repeat this in your head—

“Somewhere that she cannot see is the man that’s meant to be.