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Chapter One
Rae
October
Ishovedmyshoulderinto the backdoor of Sugar Squared, my overflowing purse sliding down into the crook of my elbow. I balanced a maple pecan layer cake I’d baked at home for today’s special in one hand and an overflowing bag full of fall decorations in the other. This late in October, I’d already decorated the cafe, but when I saw the blue and silver decorative pumpkins at the home decor store,I couldn’t resist adding a little bit more. I did live deep in Renegade hockey territory, after all. My customers would appreciate fall decor in their favorite team colors.
A steady hum of voices reached me from the front of the cafe. Even for a Saturday, that sounded like more people than I expected.
I slid the cake carrier onto the first bit of empty counter space I found, dropped my bags on the chair right inside the open office door, and shrugged out of my camel peacoat. Tossing the coat atop my bag, I scurried up to the front of the cafe, the cheerful jingle of the little bell on the front door signaling customers entering and exiting.
I winced when I reached the front counter. “Sorry I’m late, Camille.”
The other woman flashed a quick smile over her shoulder before returning to face the customer on the other side of the counter. She boxed four muffins from the display cabinet, collected the customer’s payment, and wished them a good morning before facing me again. She was my saving grace. Between Camille and Ava, a high schooler who helped out on Saturdays, we usually ran a tight ship. But even with the extra weekend traffic,today’s crowd seemed unusually large.
“We’re slammed, Rae!” She nodded to the sitting area where our few tables overflowed with customers. We catered to the in-and-out crowd, but some people liked to come, sit a spell and enjoy a slower pace. This morning, people packed in at every table while the line for the counter ran five deep. “Spot me a bathroom break? I haven’t had a minute to even breathe since I opened!”
“Of course, of course. Go, go.” I turned to one of the coffee makers and quickly started another pot and said again, “I’m so sorry I’m late.”
Camille waved off my apology and hustled to the back, while I took over the counter. I smiled at a tall woman struggling to make up her mind whether to take a chocolate croissant or the cinnamon apple muffin. It was a tough decision, and we made it a policy to never rush our customers. My shop offered pure indulgences and when it came to satisfying that sugar craving, only the exact right thing would do.
When Camille doubled my full-time staff of one last year, she brought with her invaluable customer service skills. Considering that my sales skyrocketed the more I followed her recommendations, when Camille said smile at the customers, I smiled.
Behind my customer stood a behemoth of a man, arms crossed over his chest, the muscles of his biceps straining the fabric of his checkered blue and white shirt. He wore a Renegades hockey cap and a bright orange reflective vest. As the woman waffled between her two favorites, I let my eyes drift over him, taking in his broad chest, the thick, tanned column of his neck, the dark scruff on the sharp cut of his jaw. One corner of his lips kicked up into a grin.
Well, crap. Busted in the middle of my too-long inventory of the man’s finest features.
Feeling an uncomfortable heat fill my cheeks, I rang up the woman’s chocolate croissant, then passed her the blue, silver, and chartreuse pastry box. She turned away with a radiant smile, and then the behemoth stood front and center, taking up more space than seemed humanly possible. My eyes fixed on his lips again, plump and supple, with a cupid’s bow dip that did something funny to my stomach.
“Quite the crowd you have going on here.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of his rumbly voice, startled out of my inappropriate ogling of a customer. The subtle heat in my cheeks exploded into a full-blown forest fire, but I sucked in a breath and met his gaze. Bright, clear blue eyes taunted me, tiny lines fanning out from the corners as he grinned.
That knowing, provocative,somethinggrin raised my hackles. I straightened to my full—if unintimidating—five-foot-four. His grin morphed into a smirk, somewhere between cocky and genuinely amused, just as Camille’s fingers landed on my shoulder to signal her return.
I refused to label the emotion that rippled through me as relief, but it wasn’t disappointment, either. Pasting on a big, stiff smile, I shifted back to allow Camille to resume her spot at the register. “Camille will be justdelightedto take your order.”
I didn’t miss the dark brow that cocked up on his face or his muttered, “Chicken,” just before I turned to head into the back of the bakery.
I whirled around to face him fully, his provocative challenge hanging in the air between us. Camille wore a shocked expression, the kind that covers a face just before being overcome by uncontrollable laughter. I was pretty sure mine lacked that whole imminent laugh bit. The challenge in his sharp blue eyes spurred me like a seven-year-old facing a dodgeball shootout, and I sucked in a breath to unload on him.
His eyes still fixed on me, he spoke before I could. “Load me up,” he said to Camille, his smile much more natural than mine. “Two dozen donuts, a dozen croissants, and a dozen of whatever these things are.” Finally, he broke our staring contest to glance down, his long finger tapping the top of the glass display case to point to the maple pecan twists.
His order snapped me out of my fog. “That’s a lot of pastries. You’re gonna wipe out my stock for the rest of the day.”
Camille’s chastising eyes bore into the side of my head and practically hear her voice in my ear to not come across cranky. But this man had thrown me so off-center, I scrambled to remember any of the customer service rules she’d beaten into my brain over the last year.
“I’ve got a lot of mouths to feed this morning.” His voice, rough-hewn but coated in honey, stirred the fine hairs at the back of my neck, and brought a tingling awareness to my fingertips. Still, if we ran out of stock, I’d have a lot of irritable customers.
Camille interrupted whatever I might have said then, sliding his boxes atop the counter and ringing up his order. “Usually, we ask that folks order ahead if it’s more than a dozen. We bake everything ourselves, you know. Well, Rae here does. So what we have is all we have for the day. It would be terrible if someone came in looking for a maple pecan twist this afternoon and we had to tell them we were out. If you come again, it would sure help us out if you pre-ordered. I’ll tape our card to this top box.”
“Yes, ma’am. Understood. I appreciate you letting me sneak out with these today. Let me go ahead and make an order for next month? I wouldn’t want to put Rae out.”
My gaze narrowed on the man, hisaw, shucks, ma’amfacade scraping against my skin like a burr. I needed to go back to my office, sort out my bag and the cake and decorations I’d brought this morning, but my feet had grown roots. I was locked in place, listening to my employee get charmed by this provoking man.
Chicken.
I almost snorted, but his eyes flicked up to run over me again. My thoughts stalled, freezing my snort, as his gaze lingered at my hips a long moment, only to dance over my chest to meet my grumpy stare with eyes that sparkled with humor.
