Recipe for Love Read Free Page A

and spit it out. “How long have you been in business?”
    Rachel glanced at the can and frowned. “Six weeks.”
    “From where did you gather your recipes?”
    “Most of them were my mother’s,” Andi said, her voice filled with pride. “And some
     I’ve created on my own.”
    “And your credentials?”
    Andi smiled. “My mother taught me to bake.”
    “Not one of you attended a school for culinary arts?”
    Andi hesitated, then gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Kim remained
     stock-still and silent. Rachel narrowed her gaze and tried to decipher exactly what
     the guy was up to.
    “I assumed as much,” he said, sweeping his gaze around the room. “I am Gaston Pierre
     Hollande. Undoubtedly you have heard of me.”
    Rachel looked at Andi and Kim and shrugged.
    “Gaston Pierre Hollande, crowned the Prince of Pastry and awarded the grand champion
     trophy on the reality TV show Extreme Bake-off?” he prompted.
    “Sorry,” Rachel said, “I must have missed that one.”
    “It appears that you missed them all if you consider this a bake shop.” He sniffed
     and stepped forward to study the other cupcakes in the display case. “You only serve
     cupcakes? No other bakery items?”
    “We are Creative Cupcakes ,” Andi emphasized, lifting her chin. “Cupcakes are our specialty.”
    “Not for long,” he informed them brusquely. “I have come here tonight to evaluate
     my competition, but I can see this is no competition at all. If anyone needs help,
     it is you. For while my bakery, the prominent Hollande’s French Pastry Parlor, draws
     crowds of customers through its doors with its wide menu of fine delicacies, your
     shop sits here empty.”
    “We are about to close for the night,” Kim told him.
    “You will soon close forever,” Gaston boasted. “As will every other bakery in town.”
     He eyed them with contempt. “I did not see your name on the list of vendors for Astoria’s
     Crab, Seafood, and Wine Festival. Are you not going?”
    Rachel shot another glance toward her friends and bit her lower lip. She didn’t even
     think of promoting their cupcakes at the festival. They’d set up a booth at the Relay
     for Life fundraiser and held a grand opening party, and she’d used her computer skills
     to create a website, Facebook page, and Twitter account. But most of their energy
     was directed toward the day-to-day details of baking and selling at the shop.
    “My bakery has a premier location within the festival building, and when the weekend
     is over, everyone in Astoria, Oregon, and the whole Northwest will know Hollande’s
     French Pastry Parlor is number one.”
    “Yeah,” Andi said, her sudden smile giving way to a smirk. “Good luck with that.”
    “My success is not a result of luck, but talent,” he insisted.
    “Maybe we’ll sign up,” Rachel said, standing on her tiptoes to look him straight in
     the eye.
    “ Au contraire! The vendor slots for the festival were sold out long ago,” Gaston told them, his
     face smug. “You are too late.”
    Rachel shrugged, careful to keep her expression indifferent. “I doubt cupcakes belong
     at the Crab, Seafood, and Wine Festival anyway.”
    “Not as creative as your name suggests, no?” he taunted.
    Mike came out of the back party room, and Gaston’s forehead creased fourfold as he
     took in the magician’s costume. Directing his attention back to the three women, he
     asked, “You’re working with clowns?”
    Rachel scowled. “He’s not a clown; he’s a magician.”
    “I meant clown as in ‘buffoon,’” he retorted, jutting out his cleft chin.
    Mike drew close to Rachel’s side. “Who’s this?”
    “The Prince of Pastry.”
    Gaston handed Mike a business card from his back pocket. “If you need to recommend
     a real bakery, here is my number.”
    Mike waved his hands, and the business card shot into the air and circled round and
     round his body until it finally swung inside the plastic-lined barrel