Devil’s Valentine (Tangled in Temptation)
CHAPTER 1
SCARLETT
My heart flutters as I pull up to my bakery. It’s the same feeling I’ve been having for the last year since I opened. My bakery, Crescent Sugar Bakery, is the culmination of my lifelong dream, and I’m so damn proud of myself sometimes that I can hardly stand it.
Considering how hard I worked to get here, how many people who never thought all that much of me, and the complete lack of people at my back, I think I get to be proud of myself and my bakery. The only thing that casts a gloomy cloud over my bakery is that I wouldn’t have had the money to open it if my mom were still alive.
She ensured that I’d have enough to open up our dream bakery because of her life insurance and the money she saved from her own inheritance, even though there wasn’t much of that left over after her medical expenses and cremation were paid off. As much as I love my bakery, I’d rather still have mom with me.
There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t miss baking with her in her kitchen. I would give Crescent Sugar up in a second to have her back. But that’s not going to happen.
All I could do after her death was to go through with her last wishes and put my all into Crescent Sugar. She would have loved it and been in the kitchen every day. She would have tasted every new recipe and been my biggest cheerleader.
I rub the spot on my chest that always aches when I think of her. And, yes, I think about her every day when I pull up to Crescent Sugar. It’s hard not to because it wouldn’t have been possible without her.
As I walk up to the back door of the bakery, the night still clinging to the world around me, I scowl at the wall. The lack of light makes it a little hard to see, but it’s obvious that the wall is covered in graffiti. Again.
I mumble, “What the fuck?”
Now that I’ve seen how someone has desecrated the wall of my bakery, I look around half expecting someone to jump out at me. Even though it doesn’t happen, the creepy feeling of being watched remains. I’m sure no one is here and that it’s just a byproduct of knowing someone was here long enough to totally ruin my fucking day and the back of my bakery.
After hurrying in through the backdoor, I throw my whole routine out of the window and rush toward the front of Crescent Sugar. I’m standing in front of my bakery and breathe a sigh of relief very fucking quickly.
The last time someone displayed their…artwork on the back wall of my bakery, they also decided to give the front the same treatment. Not this time. That makes me feel better, only a little bit better but I’ll take it.
I shake my head and go back inside while taking deep breaths. Normally, I find being in the bakery in the morning, before anyone else comes to work, relaxing. It’s a chance for me to get things started for the day and make sure my shop is set up for success. I can get lost in baking, which is the aspect of the business I love the most, other than the joy on the faces of my customers. It’s a time when I can ignore the paperwork, schedules, ordering, and everything else I need to get done.
Baking is pure. At least to me. Even though it can be a complicated process, to me it’s simple. It’s science. I know that when I follow the recipe, the outcome will be perfect.
“Fuck,” I grunt, feeling my day slipping away from me. I mutter, “I don’t have time to deal with this.”
My day is all planned out and having to deal with the back wall, especially repainting it, isn’t on my to-do list today. I’m going to have to hire someone. I’m grateful as hell that Crescent Sugar is doing well and I can afford it, but it’s just another thing on my plate.
You know that feeling when you’re about to lose the grip you have on everything you’ve already been struggling to keep together? Frayed. That’s it. I’m frayed and I’m not sure there is a way of keeping it together at this point.
With slumped shoulders I push it all away. It’s far too early to call someone and get them out to deal with the back wall right now anyway.
“Find the positive,” I try and bolster myself with the reminder of words Mom always said to me.
Is it always possible? Hell no, that’s life, but that doesn’t mean you give up and don’t try to find something positive.
“At least this time they didn’t break in set on destruction,” I murmur and force a smile on my face as I go about getting started for the day.
Baking is what I need to do. It’s what always brings me back to center and it’s been that way my entire life. No matter what else is going on in my life, and especially when I’ve been at my lowest, baking has been there.
I breathe through the worries settled on my shoulders and just focus on everything I need to get through to make sure my bakery can thrive for the day. Time passes as I get cupcakes in the oven, cookies ready to go in the oven, and cinnamon rolls proofing.
It’s exactly what I need and when my staff, small though it is, comes in to get the front set-up, I’m ready to go and the sharp feeling in my chest when I saw the back wall this morning has faded. I’m still annoyed and more than a little pissed, but the despair has fallen away a little bit.
By the time I can walk out to the front of the bakery, knowing the kitchen is in a good place for the day, I can’t help but grin at how many people are enjoying their visit to Crescent Sugar. My heart swells.
Valerie, who helps me manage the bakery, winks at me. She’s used to seeing me both elated and shocked at the brisk business we’ve been doing. I swear when Valerie first walked into Sugar Crescent, I knew she was perfect for the job. Since then, she’s become so much more.
She keeps me sane. She’s the big sister that I never even knew I needed.
The closeness we have is something I’ve always craved in my life. I guess that’s the only-child syndrome rearing its ugly head or something. It wasn’t easy for me to make good friends when I was in school. I don’t know what it was, but I always felt out of place.
Now, I feel like I’ve found a path in life, one I’m happy with.
I wince slightly before forcing words I dread, words asking for help, past my lips, “Can Andrew come by after school?” Valerie gives me a curious look, and I sheepishly explain, “I need someone to paint the back wall. I’ll call someone if he can’t come by, but I figure he’d be interested in making a little cash.”
Valerie’s face softens and her voice drops to a whisper so customers can’t hear her, “Graffiti again?”
“Yes,” I grunt, “it could be worse.” I let out a long, suffering sigh, “At least they only got the back wall, not the front and didn’t come inside this time.”
Valerie’s deep frown at the memory of the one time whoever has it out for my bakery mirrors the feeling in my chest. It was a fucking mess. I suppose the only good thing was that they only destroyed things and didn’t steal anything. That should not be a victory, but it was.
I can only suspect that they didn’t steal anything because most of the equipment is heavy as fuck. It struck me as odd. But, then again, so does the graffiti. It seems childish and fueled by so much anger. I’ve never made an enemy in my life, not one I’m aware of at least.
With a shake of my head, I push the thought away. There’s no point in trying to unravel the mystery, not when I know I won’t be able to uncover the answers. I could install some cameras, but that’s not in my budget. Not at the moment at least.
It’s already pushing it having my back wall repainted. That’s why I’d rather hire Andrew than some professional. He’ll do the job well, earn a little cash, and I won’t have some astronomical bill that’ll make me think twice about splurging on meat for dinner.
Thankfully, I’m able to get lost in helping customers and Valerie for a while until there’s a lull in customers. It’s the best kind of distraction.
The bell chimes when the door opens, and a smile stretches across my face when I see the women who have walked in. They’re regulars of mine, which means that I know they’re the women of the Devil’s Saints MC. I’ve heard them use the term ‘old ladies’, but I haven’t asked them if I heard them right and what that means.
What I do know is that they’re the sweetest women and I love when they come into Crescent Sugar. They light up when they see me and give a little wave. Warmth fills me because I’ve struggled with connecting with people in the past, but now I have more people in my life who feel like they’re really in my corner and like me for me. I have Valerie.
And I have the Old Ladies of the DSMC. I make my way out from behind the counter and head their way. I reach Cherise first who immediately pulls me into a hug. I’ve learned that she’s the head Old Lady since her man is the president, Lucifer. I haven’t met him and I’m not sure I want to, but she’s an amazing person who is warm and welcoming.
It’s impossible not to relax into Cherise’s hug. It brings me a sense of peace I desperately need today. It’s not just warmth that comes from Cherise; there’s a sense of authority and power as well. It can be a little intimidating and I’d hate to be someone on her bad side. I’d probably fall out if I were to ever meet her man.
I’m pulled out of Cherise’s arms and into a half hug from Wrenley as she also holds her daughter, Maya, who is around six months old. Maya is also Cherise’s granddaughter and the love between them is clear to see. Part of me is envious of this little girl because she has so much love and family surrounding her and it has nothing to do with blood. I only ever really had Mom and now she’s gone.
I laugh as Maya makes a happy sound, but it sounds a little hollow, even to me. For some reason it’s more difficult to shake off the negative feelings from seeing the graffiti this morning. Knowing that there’s not much I can do to stop it, and constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop is exhausting and overwhelming.
“I have your treats, ladies,” Valerie’s bright exclamation brings me back to reality.
Sioux, who is with Apostle and is also Wrenley’s best friend, and Tallulah who is Apostle’s sister and with Scythe, give me bright smiles. From what I’ve learned, both guys are enforcers for the club. I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I can gather that they’re the intimidating muscle of the club.
I look over the women and realize that there are some Old Ladies missing from their usual crew today. “You’re a few ladies in leather short today,” I chirp, the forced smile on my face making me feel like an imposter and a horrible actress.
“We promised to take a box of goodies back to the clubhouse for Diana and Sherry. Heather’s little one is sick, so we’ll drop her some treats as well,” Tallulah informs me with a smile. “Oh,” she exclaims, “and we’ll take some by Sacred Tattoos for Emery.” She grimaces, “If we forgot about her, we’d never hear the end of it.”
“Let’s hope Driller doesn’t eat everything while she’s with a client,” Wrenley murmurs while setting Maya up in one of the highchairs I keep on hand for little ones.
The ladies wince and I get the feeling that they’re speaking from experience. Valerie smiles at me while heading back behind the counter. Just as I’m about to give the ladies some room, step away, and head toward the back, Cherise looks at me. Really looks at me.
Her brows furrows and she sits up a little straighter as if she can see everything I’m trying to hide and keep at bay. There’s softness in her voice, but it’s wrapped up in a demand, “What’s going on, Scarlett?”
I try and keep my face neutral, “Nothing’s wrong.” I wave my hand toward the pastries and coffee on their table, “Enjoy your treats.”
When I turn and try to scurry towards the back, Cherise’s voice rings out, “I don’t think so, missy.” My movements are slow as I turn in her direction to find her eyes hard, but not in an angry way. “I can tell something’s wrong. You’re trying to hide it, but I can see. Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.” She reaches out and grabs my hand to give it a squeeze. “Please tell us,” there’s a plea in her voice.
My shoulders slump and I stare at my feet for a moment, shuffling back and forth a little as I debate with myself. When she squeezes my hand again, words start to spill from me. “I’ve been having problems with someone destroying my bakery. This morning I came in to find graffiti on the wall out back and it’s not the first time.”
“What else has happened?” The deadly tone in Cherise’s voice and the way all the women sit up straighter with anger in their eyes as me almost taking a step back. “Tell us everything and don’t leave anything out,” she demands.
And I do.
I tell them about the break-in and the destruction I’ve found on numerous occasions. It’s not easy to look at them as I admit everything that’s gone wrong, but once I start talking, I can’t seem to stop. When Cherise wipes the tears rolling down my cheeks, I realize that I’m silently crying.
Everything feels so fucking overwhelming. Once Cherise pulls me into her arms and I spill, it feels like I can breathe again.
I’m also instantly embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” I whisper sheepishly, “I shouldn’t have dumped all of that on you. It’s just so much, especially with Valentine’s Day coming up. It’s a busy holiday for orders. Last year I was busy, and I had just opened, this year is already shaping up to be busier.”
“Yes,” Wrenly insists, steel in her voice as she shoots me a look, “you should have; you should have said something sooner.”
“We’re going to get this taken care of,” Cherise insists while pulling away from me just enough to look into my eyes. “You just worry about your business and being the best assistant Cupid has ever known.”
Even though I know it shouldn’t, relief washes over me. The smile I give her is genuine, as is the laugh that bubbles out of me.
I’m not sure if I believe that they can help me, but desperation has me nodding and whisper, “Thank you.”
Now I just need to figure out if these ladies are going to stay true to their word or not. It would be nice to have some backup in this situation, but I never asked. As much as I don’t really want to ask for help, I can’t really deny that I need it.
When they leave, part of me feels relief that I won’t be in this alone. The other part of me wonders what I just got into. The Old Ladies of the DSMC are fierce and protective. I can only imagine the men are the same…or even worse.