AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Stop it right now!” She pulls away, covering her ears with her hands. “Do not sexualize Gran’s favourite breakfast. She used to make this for Jake and me all the time. I have memories attached to it that I’d like to keep PG-13.”
She shakes her head and gets started on breakfast. I watch her take a drinking glass, flip it upside down and press the rim into a piece of bread. Then she places the bread into a frying pan with melted butter and cracks an egg into the hole. Once she’s sprinkled the egg with salt and pepper, she flips the whole thing over. When she’s happy with how it looks, she flips it onto a plate with a spatula, adds a spoonful of hash browns from another pan on the stove and some fresh fruit, then slides the plate in front of me.
She leans against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest, watching as I take my first bite.
I groan. How is this so damn good? “You have many talents, Sierra Matthews. This is delicious.”
“Don’t act so surprised,” she says, taking her plate and sliding onto the stool beside me.
“Everything you make is unreal. Usually a person is either a cook or a baker, but you’re both. I’m not sure which you’re better at.”
Sierra smiles a little at that. “I’m definitely a better baker,” she says, taking a sip of her tea. “I enjoy it more too.”
“That so?” I say, before taking another bite.
She clears her throat. “I’ve actually had this dream of opening a bakery ever since I was a little girl.”
“That long, huh?”
A smile creeps over her face. “That long,” she says, moving her fork through the egg that’s left on her plate. “I specifically used to dream about my mom and I opening a bakery together. We used to talk about it a lot. We even had a name for it. We were going to call it Buttercup Bakery, after her nickname for me.”
I still, looking over at her. I wasn’t expecting Sierra to be so vulnerable. Her admission has my heart cracked wide open. “Your mom called you Buttercup? How come?”
Sierra’s smile softens a little. “I would always beg her to make lemon buttercups. They were these little treats she used to make, and I absolutely loved them—a flower-shaped pastry filled with a cream cheese and lemon filling. They are a lot of work, but she made them because she knew they were my favorite. She used to say that if I ate too many I would turn into a buttercup, and I guess the nickname sort of stuck from there.”
“You two were close,” I say, a statement rather than a question. “For what it’s worth, I think you would have knocked it out of the park if you had gotten your wish and opened up that bakery with your mom.”
Her eyes turn glassy. “I know it sounds silly—”
“Nothing about your dream sounds silly,” I tell her, hopping off my barstool, taking our empty plates to the sink. “Come on, let’s go get dressed.”
Her curious eyes connect with mine from across the kitchen. “Why are you in such a rush?”
“I have somewhere I want to take you. Come on, sunshine. It will be fun.”
She eyes me like she doesn’t quite believe me. “Grayson, where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see,” I say, reaching out my hand to her.
She shakes her head but slips off her barstool and takes my hand.
But when I drag her into the shower with me, peeling my wet T-shirt off her body as she stands under the spray of hot water, I know my surprise is going to have to wait. An hour—and two orgasms—later, we’re finally in my truck.
Sierra
After driving for 30 minutes,Grayson’s truck pulls off the highway. He still hasn’t told me where he’s taking me.
We drive another five miles before he pulls his truck to a stop in front of Sweet Dreams, the most adorable bakery with a pink-and-white striped awning, windows trimmed in pink and a sandwich board that reads,Enjoy life, Eat cake.
“How did you know about this place?” I ask when he takes my hand in his, bringing our joined hands to his lips.
“I’ve been here once, on my way to The Cape. I had an espresso and the best slice of lemon pie and it always kind of stuck with me. I thought you might like it here too. Maybe inspire you a little.”
I’m so touched that he thought to bring me here, that he seems to believe in my bakery dreams, no matter how unrealistic they may seem.
“I love it, Gray, really. But I’m not sure my childhood dream will ever be anything more than that.”
If I had any doubts about the kind of guy Grayson Ford is, the next words out of his mouth remind me.
