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“Try the damn donut, Nick. I worked my ass off on this recipe when I worked as a pastry chef in the city. I’d like your professional opinion.”
“Not all cops eat donuts.” I furrow my brow, challenging her.
“Yes, they do.” She doesn’t take the bait and I love it. So, I take a bite and I swear it’s like I’ve nearly died and gone to heaven. “Dear Lord, Carolyn.”
“Good?” Her eyes light up.
I lick the sugar from my lips, wishing my tongue was running over hers instead. “This is a masterpiece.” I swallow. “In fact, give me a dozen more to take back to the station.”
“What’s the magic word?”
“Sorry, where are my manners?” I clear my throat. “Please.”
“That’s more like it. I’ll give you an assortment.” She leans over the counter and piles the sweet treats into a bright pink box, the top of it donning a “Sweet” stamp. I have so many questions for her. Why haven’t I seen her around here before? How did a city girl end up in a small mountain town like Brighton Ridge? But, now’s not the time or place. I swallow my pride and meet the gorgeous bombshell’s dark blue eyes.
“That all?”
“No,” I say. An unnatural wave of nerves worms its way into my gut. “I’d like to take you to dinner, Miss Sweet.” Her shoulders slump. “Carolyn. You know, for the car and to welcome you to town.”
She takes a long inhale, her eyes searching my face for something. What, I don’t know. “Listen, Nick, I appreciate the offer. Trust me, I don’t have any friends here except these goons.” She tips her head in the direction of her hardworking sisters. “But, I don’t think now’s the right time for a date…or whatever this is.”
I try to hide the disappointment painting my face. “It doesn’t have to be. We can have a drink and some food. You know, like friends?”
“Ow!” Carolyn yelps. She looks over at her black-lipstick wearing sister, who shoots her a warning look before sauntering away.
“Nick, I appreciate the offer, but I just don’t think I have the time right now. The bakery just opened and…” Carolyn takes a long pause, shaking her head before continuing. “I think I just need to concentrate on that right now.”
There’s something she isn’t telling me. Call it a cop’s intuition, but Carolyn Sweet is hiding something. “Fair enough.” I say, keeping my voice steady, trying desperately to hide the disappointment lining my words. “I understand.”
“Thank you.” She smiles, points at the box in my hands. “But enjoy the donuts, and don’t be a stranger.” She winks at me before turning her attention to the next customer in line. As I head back to the station, it’s clear that now more than ever I have to find out what ails the gorgeous baker.
The connection between us is undeniable and there’s no way I can let her be anything less than mine. I’ll do whatever it takes. Carolyn Sweet is the woman of my dreams, and I’m not taking no for an answer.
3
Carolyn
A glassof wine always turns into five when my sisters and I get together. Usually, I’m more than excited to imbibe, but tonight something’s tugging on me that I can’t quite put my finger on, and I don’t feel like booze can fix it.
“Jesus, I’m beat.” My sister, Winona, says rubbing her eyes. The action leaves flakes of mascara on her high cheekbones. Even with the dark circles, she’s still the beauty of the group.
“That maniac next door still using power tools at all hours of the night?” Meg says, twirling a strand of her dark brown hair around her finger as she shoves a couple of almonds into her mouth. She’s always preferred salty to sweet—a rare trait in this family of sweet toothes—which is appropriate considering she takes care of the bakery’s books.
“It’s all hours, I’m telling you.” Winona rolls her eyes before finishing up her glass of red wine. “I have half a mind to go over and chew his ass out.” A yawn interrupts her words. “If I weren’t so damn tired.”
“It’ll get better.” I place my hand on Winona’s soft hand. “Opening a business is bound to knock you out.” I look around the table at my sisters. “It’s worth it so that we all can be together again, right?”
“Duh.” Meg furrows her brow.
“Of course.” Winona says at the same time.
The three of us look at our baby sister, Emmi, whose head is still buried in her phone. The weight of our stare doesn’t even phase her. I kick her crossed leg out from under her and she flinches on impact.
“Oh my God!” Emmi finally looks up at all of us. We can’t help but laugh out loud. “You guys are seriously the worst.”
“But you love us.” Meg bats her eyes in Emmi’s direction.
Emmi’s black painted lips spread into a smile. “You know I do,” she says before pouring the rest of the bottle of red into her glass. Her hazel-green eyes flicker up to mine. They’re the same color as mom’s. The rest of us were blessed with various shades of dad’s baby blues. “And speaking of love…”
