AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Or, you know, I could make it rightbecauseI’d like to take her on a date.” I want him to understand, that me making things right with Molly has to do more with my happiness than his. “Not because of you threatening me, asshole.”
“Right.” Shade’s grin turns into a laugh as he walks away shaking his head.
Unfortunately, Molly’s gone by the time I look around again.
Chapter 1
Molly
“What do you mean Royce isn’t having a birthday party this year?”
I sigh as I package up the cupcakes the women, girls really, ordered. They’re always in here buzzing over parties at the local MC’s clubhouse and sobbing over the ‘taken’ members.
Having only been in town about seven months, I’ve been lucky enough to make a handful of friends; some of whom are even Ol’ Ladies, but I’ve never had any desire to experience a crazy night out at the clubhouse. Considering how it ended, the only Northern Grizzlies party I attended was enough. Sheesh, and that was alow-keygathering at Charlie’s house.
Royce swaggered into the bakery nearly a week after that night, expecting me to have forgotten everything and telling me when he’d pick me up—for a date that I never agreed to.
That didn’t happen, but he still—never mind. The important thing is that my bakery is successful, and if I have to sacrifice having a life to work six days a week, so be it.
It’s not like I moved to Rowansville for its happening social scene. Letting out a sigh, I admit to myself that my reason for moving here is causing me more frustration than some of my clients.
Despite my annoyance, I can’t help but smile at my last thought. I’ve really done it. From the time I was a child, I wanted to be a baker. Some of my earliest memories were spending afternoons in the kitchen with Mom and Grandma as they tirelessly showed me how to bake from scratch.
Even when Mom’s cancer treatments took so much out of her, she would sit beside me and gently instruct me on each step of the process.
My grandma’s catering business soon outgrew her kitchen and while her employees did most of the work in the new location, it was in her home that she got creative—understanding the need to constantly reinvent timeless favorites with new twists.
“Speak of the devil!” one of the girl’s trills out, bringing me back to the present, and I turn in time to see the man that at least half the single women in town whisper about, walking in like he owns the place.
Instantly, the three women turn toward him, hanging off his arms and cooing at him. Even going so far as to offer to all entertain him the night of his birthday, if he doesn’t want a party.
Ignoring the scene, I push their box toward them, then busy myself making Royce’s latte with an extra shot of expresso and heating up a stuffed croissant. He may be fucking most of the women in town, but since that night, he’s become one of my best customers so I’m not going to screw up his daily order.
“Come on. Back the fuck off,” he finally growls after trying to get them to release his arms for a few minutes. “Let me enjoy my break in peace.”
“How are you doing today, sweetie pie?” he says, winking at me as he’s reaching for his morning fare, dropping in today’s dessert-inspired endearment like he’s original and witty.
“Molly,” I correct him.
“Can I call you ‘Sugar’?” he asks, reaching up to wipe something off my jaw.
“No,” I snipe back.
“Ya know, my birthday’s coming up soon.” Royce puts his palms down on the counter and leans across toward me.
“Seven bucks for your breakfast. Did you want to me to bake you a cake? We can talk about flavors and pricing,” I retort, hoping he’ll finally catch a hint that I will only talk business with him.
“Only if you’ll jump out of it,” he shoots back and the women behind him suddenly turn glacier expressions in my direction.
Ignoring them, I reach my hand out for the money. Instead, he grabs it to pull me closer to him. “Come to dinner with me, Molly. You know I’ll make you feel so fucking good.”
I blush full-on red and get angry, certain that today he’s dialing up his flirting and talk of a date because his little fan club is hanging on every word. Pulling back from him, I narrow my eyes and ask for payment again. I’m not playing this game, especially in my own shop that I’m still trying to establish.
Turning him down doesn’t stop him from continuing to ask me out, except from that day forward, the women also become regulars. Even occasionally asking me if I’m interested in joining their morning work-out sessions as their eyes take in the swell of my hips.
Am I thin? No—I fucking create the most amazing pastries and baked goods. I have to try them. I’m up by four, at the latest, depending on how much I feel like prepping the day before. Just a couple of months ago, I gave myself the breathing room of closing the shop one day a week, but I can’t afford to hire anyone else yet.
I’ll get there, but I have to prove to the bank that I can keep this place running, or my credit will be shot. I could fall back on the money that my grandma left me, but that will make me feel like I’ve failed her and mom.
