Look Before You Bake (3 page)

"I have no choice in the matter, and neither do you, Nita." The light of the fireplace was reflected in his sunken eyes and along the metallic frame of his wheelchair. "I swore to Harold that you would marry his son, and I can't put it off any longer. You're almost thirty. Far past the time you should be married. He's threatening – never mind. This has to be done."

"But – why?" The anguish in my voice made my father flinch. "Who will take care of you if I leave?"

"I'm a grown man, and I can't depend on your kindness forever." His voice sounded blustery. "You need to begin your own life. You need your own house, your own home, your own man. And for you, that man is Gerry, Harold's son."

I wrung my hands, unable to believe this conversation was taking place. "But why? What's going on, Dad? What are you hiding? Please, tell me." I crouched by his legs, hands on his knees, and looked up beseechingly at his face. He finally looked down at me, and I was shocked to see tears gathering there.

"Oh, Nita." He covered my hands with his own. "I'm so sorry. If there were any other way, you know I would take it."

"Then why? I hate Gerry. Why are you doing this?"

"I have no choice!" His voice regained some of its former strength. "None! This must be done. I swore it would happen, and so it will!"

I leaped to my feet, heart beating wildly. "No. You can't make that decision for me. Nobody can. It's not right, and it's not fair."

"No, it's not." His agreement chilled me. "But it's the way it is. Come morning, Harold and Gerry are coming to visit. We'll arrange the wedding details." His voice had turned wooden. He stared into the fireplace as if he was lost. "Harold won't wait any longer. It will happen soon."

I stepped back. Never in my life had I felt so confused, horrified, and alone. My father, whom I adored more than any other person in the world, had become a stranger to me. I'd spent the past ten years living at home with him, taking care of him, and this was how he repaid me? I left him without another word, climbed into bed, and waited till the house was quiet and still before stealing out the back door and running away, intent on never returning.

Now, I take a deep breath. Here I am, ten thousand dollars to my name, with another fifty perhaps coming my way. The winner of the Franklin County Bake Off. Me. Anita Hall. I stride along the winding road as it curves through the autumn wood, only a quarter mile till town. The trees are beautiful, but I have trouble focusing on their fall colors. Instead I walk, hands in my pockets, deep in thought. I wish my dad had been at the Bake Off to celebrate my winning. He'd have loved it. Again I think of calling him. Checking in. Has he been doing all right without me? I didn't sleep during my first week at Mindy's General Store, thinking of all the difficulties and challenges he'd have to face alone. But he's a capable man. He'll be all right. Won't he?

Torn, conflicted, I walk into town, the sound of the waterfall alerting me to the Conway River before I see it. It's late afternoon now, and the sunlight is golden and soft. I walk up the street, following the Conway River to the truss bridge where Mindy's General Store sits. And next to it, my future bakery. I stop before the empty display window. It was owned by Mindy, and she had tried to turn it into a coffee house, but had been unable to draw the crowds that flocked to the Gypsy Café. I also don't think she appreciated just how much work it would be. So she closed it, gutted it, and had set it up for rent months ago.

It's cute. Perfect. Peering in through the dusty window, I can imagine the layout I want, see where I'll install the oven, and maybe even squeeze in a couple of little tables. My conflicted emotions are soothed by the prospect of making this place mine. I step back to glance up at where I'll hang my sign: "Anita's".

"Anita." The voice jars me out of my reverie. I turn, and my blood runs cold at the sight of Gerry. He's a weasely man with a massive nose and a sparse mustache lost beneath it. Small eyes, thinning light blond hair, and a bony frame. "I knew I'd run you down."

"Gerry." We're out in public. He can't do anything to me. Still, I cross my arms over my chest. "What do you want?"

"What do I want?" He steps closer and smiles in that cold, cutting way of his. "What a dumb question. You, obviously. You're mine. Promised to me."

"I'm not yours." I try to say that with feeling, but I'm too nervous, too shocked by his sudden appearance to put much fervor into it. "And I never will be."

"Like you have any choice in the matter." He closes one eye and cocks his head to one side, as if he's appraising me. "You're mine, like it or not. Now. Where're you staying?"

"I'm not going to tell you." Instinct tells me to walk away, but I know he'll just follow me if I do. Now that he's found me, he'll stick around, badgering me and threatening me till I go crazy. No. I have to face him down now, once and for all. "Leave me alone."

"Now, listen here." He steps in closer again. He's a short man, just barely taller than me, but his sharp teeth and huge nose make him look threatening. "Cut this shit out. Your dad promised you to me, so you ain't got any choice in the matter. An oath was sworn, don't you see?"

"I didn't swear anything." I hate how my voice shakes. Why can't I be as tough and confident as Rachel in these moments?

"No, you didn't." Gerry grins as if he's playing his trump card. "But your daddy did. Didn't he? And you're making him an oath breaker. You want to know what happens to oath breakers?"

My eyes go wide. I don't speak. Gerry's grin gets wider. He's loving my fear. Loving having me off balance. I've known him ever since I was a teenager, and he's always been like this. The kind of boy who likes to pull the wings off flies. Nasty. Cruel. Sarcastic. A bully and a coward.

"Want to know what will happen to your daddy?" He steps in closer, and I back up, right against the glass window of my store. God, Gerry's breath is foul. He raises his thumb and rakes it across his throat, his nail rasping on his stubble. "That's what will happen. And that's why you've got no choice in the matter." He leans in, his face inches from mine, forcing me to turn mine aside. "You're not the kind of girly to let her daddy get hurt, are you?"

"Get away from me," is all I can say.

"You're mine, Anita. You hear me?" My skin crawls as I feel him caress my hair, and then curl a lock of it around his finger. "The things I'm going to do to you. The things I'm going to make you do to me. Oh, we're going to have ourselves some real nice times. You have no idea."

I feel like I'm going to puke. Anger flares in my heart. Anger that this piece of garbage thinks he can treat me like this. Right in public. Speak to me this way. I narrow my eyes. "No. I'll never be yours. Not ever!" And I shove him as hard in the chest as I can.

Gerry's eyes flare wide as he stumbles back, nearly falling, and only his natural agility lets him keep his feet. I turn to run, but he reaches out with one long arm and grabs at my hair, yanking me back. Pain shoots across my scalp and I cry out, but it's too late. He presses me against the display window and leans in, face red with anger.

Suddenly Gerry stiffens up like a board and lets go of my hair. I open my eyes, and see a mountain of a man standing behind Gerry, a huge hand placed firmly on his shoulder, storm clouds gathering in his eyes.

Chapter 3

"Are you all right, miss?" The stranger's voice is a low rumble, like rocks shifting deep within the earth. Gerry turns around and looks up, then higher, and then even higher till he's looking the stranger in the face. I'm gawking too. The man is unbelievably gorgeous, muscled and broad chested as if he's spent his life hauling logs across the mountain peaks.

"Get your hand offa me," says Gerry.

The man ignores him with sublime indifference. He's gazing down at me with the most wonderful eyes. They're gentle and rich, like the world's most delicious chocolate soufflé. They're such expressive eyes, kind but with depths to them, flecked with gold, hinting at a personality that's steadfast and confident, a man who's at peace with himself and the world.

"I said, get your damn hand offa me," says Gerry again, and he tries to break the stranger's grip. He fails miserably.

"Ma'am?" The man's rumble prompts me to speak. "Is everything all right here?"

"I – thank you. Gerry was just about to leave. Weren't you, Gerry?"

"What? I was going to do no such – argh!" The man squeezes Gerry's shoulder with no visible effort, but suddenly Gerry is wincing and dancing in place. "OK, yes, I was going, damn!" The man releases him, and Gerry darts away, only to stop and point his finger at me. "I know where you're hiding, Anita. This ain't over."

The stranger raises one eyebrow, and Gerry backs up quickly, nearly tripping again, before turning to hurry across the sidewalk and over the truss bridge to Bridge Street.

"Thank you," I say. My heart is still racing, my mind a whirlwind of confusion and panic. Did Gerry mean it? Is my father in trouble?

"My pleasure." He's still watching Gerry go, giving me a chance to drink him in. He's wearing a red and black plaid flannel shirt, rolled up to the elbows and revealing broad, powerful forearms. His hands are huge and callused, and it takes no effort to imagine them moving over my body, making my curves seem petite in comparison. Square jawed, deep chested, he's handsome beyond belief, his hair a little shaggy, his jawline stubbled.

I take a deep breath. I should be focusing on Gerry's threats, but all I can think about is what this guy's body must look like under that flannel shirt, my palms itching to run themselves across his broad muscles, to see if his chest is as hairy as his forearms. Oh, to have arms that strong wrap around me, hold me close, shield me from all the Gerrys of the world.

He looks back at me, thoughtful. "You might want to think about talking to the cops about that guy. He doesn't sound like he's listening to you."

The cops. No, that would be a bad idea. Not until I know what trouble my father has gotten himself involved in. What this oath is – and what breaking it means. So I shake my head. "No, but thank you. Gerry's – well. An old problem. One that's getting worse, but it's a family thing." I frown as I watch Gerry disappear up Bridge Street, slinking along as if he's resentful of everybody and everything. "I'll have to figure this out on my own."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Oh, I could just drown in his rumbly voice. It comes from deep within his chest, and I feel an irrational urge to press my ear to his body and listen. I glance down at his package, and immediately flush a deep red, my eyes jumping away. Dear god, but those jeans are amazing on him. Ahem.

"I – thank you. Again. For stepping in. And. You know." I don't even know what I'm saying. I have to run away before I make a complete fool of myself. I flash him a smile. "I'll be going now, goodbye, thank you, nice to meet you." I turn and almost walk straight into one of the poles that hold up the awning over my future bakery.

His hand is at my shoulder in a flash, quicker than I'd think he could move, steadying me as I stumble back, blushing all the harder.
Smooth, Anita! Way to go all Abbott and Costello right in front of the hottest guy who's ever noticed you.

He tries to hide his smile, but can't keep the light of amusement from his rich chocolate eyes. "Maybe you should sit down for a little. Here," he says, and offers me his arm.

Of course I take it. The fact that he's still talking to me blows my mind. I slide my arm through his massive one and feel as delicate and ladylike as I've ever felt in my life. There's a wonderful smell to him, one that makes me think of nuts and dry autumn leaves, of warm earth and sunlight on trees. He guides me around to the front of Mindy's General Store, to one of the small tables set on the porch before it. I sit gratefully as he pulls out a chair for me.

"I'll grab you a glass of water." He smiles again, and I sigh as he turns and enters the store.

Is this happening? How can I meet an amazing man like this just as I receive the worst news in the world? Maybe it's the shock, maybe it's just how frickin' gorgeous this guy is, but my mind refuses to work, to process what I've learned. Instead I can only imagine scenarios like pouring melted chocolate down the length of his naked body, ladle held high, my tongue tracing the chocolate path down to his rock-hard cock. I wriggle a little in my seat as my sex begins to throb. Oh, I could lick him all over, chocolate or no chocolate. I wonder what he likes to eat?

He steps back out, two plastic cups of water looking tiny in his large hands, and sets them down before joining me at the table. Oh, thank god. I was terrified he would give me the cup and walk away.

"Thank you," I say again, trying to sound more in control of myself. Trying to calm the nerves that are causing my throat to knot up.

"My pleasure." He takes a sip of his water. "Would it be rude of me to ask what's going on?"

"I, ah –" I hesitate. There's something about this stranger that makes me want to talk to him. Confide in him. It's the calm look in his eyes. How he doesn't seem the kind to judge. And yet. Do I really want to get into my problems with Gerry? No. Not really. But I don't want this man to walk away. So I say the first thing that comes into my mind. "I'm thinking of opening a bakery, you see. In that store right there. I just won a little money, and I'm all set to go."

"Congrats. I'm all in favor of a new bakery. It would give me another reason to come into town."

I'm fascinated by his size, and by the fact that despite being a huge man, he doesn't seem clumsy. No. Just sexy as hell.

"You don't live in town?"

He shakes his head. "No, Honeycomb Falls is too busy for me. Too many people, too much noise. I like things a little quieter, a little more peaceful." He smiles in a self-deprecating way. "I know. But I live close enough to come into town whenever I get a hankering for ice cream, but not so close I have to listen to car engines and smell exhaust."

Honeycomb Falls? Too busy? I want to laugh, but instead I take a sip of water so as not to offend him. He's smiling, though, in a knowing way, as if he's aware of how he must sound.