CHAPTER 3
SCARLETT
“Scarlett,” there’s a nervousness in Valerie’s voice that has me looking curiously at where she’s sticking her head into the kitchen area of Crescent Sugar.
I was very happy to see that our newly painted wall was not covered in graffiti again this morning. Honestly, in my head there was a 50/50 chance that everything Andrew covered yesterday after school would be greeting me again like a bad neon sign. It wasn’t.
Not being greeted with more vandalism has made today a better day. I was feeling kind of silly all morning that I even mentioned it to the Old Ladies of the DSMC who came in yesterday. I had thought about texting Cherise, since I had her number from an order, and telling her to forget it.
But I knew what she’d say. The determination on her face yesterday and the way she wouldn’t let me get away with sweeping what was bothering me under the rug was evidence enough that she wasn’t going to let it go.
I can only hope that her man didn’t think it was a priority or didn’t want to get involved. Not that I would blame him.
I’m not family to the club. I’m nothing to the club.
It’s very clear how close they all are and the love they have for their club family practically radiates from the women I’ve met. That doesn’t mean that the men will put their necks out for someone they don’t know.
Even if they did devour everything Cherise has taken to the club for family days; at least, that’s what she told me happened.
I love it when people enjoy the things I bake. Nothing gives me more joy and pleasure.
Food should be enjoyed, and there’s nothing quite like a sweet treat to finish off a meal or to turn a bad day around.
I’ve been known to indulge in more than my fair share of sweets. It’s one of the reasons I have the curves I do. While I haven’t always been okay with the weight I carry, especially when I was a teenager with how cruel other kids can be, I’ve learned to love my body. It’s because of my body that I can do what I love.
I work hard at my bakery. I’m on my feet all day and there are times when my arms get quite the workout. Kneading dough is no fucking joke. Then there are all the steps I take to make sure my bakery is stocked, and all my customers are taken care of.
At the end of the day, I’m exhausted and it’s not only because I get up and to the bakery before the sun is even thinking about peeking over the horizon. It has everything to do with how much energy I use to make sure every day my bakery is open and is a success.
I’m reminded of just how much I enjoy what I bake when I slide my hands over my hips, wiping away the suddenly sweaty hands I have from the slight panic in Valerie’s eyes. My eyebrows pull together in confusion as I make my way toward her.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure,” she cocks her head toward the front of the bakery which tells me exactly nothing. “There is a very good-looking man out here wearing a leather cut like the Old Ladies wear. He says he’s looking for you.”
I squeak out with surprise, “Me?”
“That’s what he’s saying,” she confirms. “Didn’t Cherise say that she was going to get the club to help with the vandalism problem?”
“I wasn’t sure if she really meant it,” I mumble.
Valerie chuckles softly and shakes her head. “Then you were trying to ignore the determination written all over her face,” she teases me and she’s not fucking wrong.
“I guess, more so, I didn’t think the club would take the issue seriously. I mean, it’s not like I’m anything to them.”
Valerie’s eyes soften and she reaches out to squeeze my shoulder. “Maybe you don’t see it, but the people who meet you fall in love with you, Scarlett. They see the light in you, and they want to help keep it shining. Don’t over think it and accept the help being offered.” I nod at Valerie’s advice, and she gets a mischievous smile on her face. “Now go out there and try not to drool on the hot biker.”
My eyes go big and round as I look at her and glance toward the front of the bakery even though I can’t see the man in question. I whisper, “He’s hot?”
“Smoking hot,” Valerie giggles.
I swallow hard and then follow Valerie back out to the front of the bakery. With a glance down at my apron, I realize that I’m covered in flour, sugar, and some icing. It’s nothing new, but normally I put on a clean apron before I head out to the front of the bakery. I’m sure that my apron isn’t the only messy thing about me.
As I reach my hand up to where my curly hair is piled on top of my head, I can feel the tendrils that have come down and then there’s the sweat I can feel on my brow. It’s hot back in my kitchen with the ovens on and the amount of work I do in the back.
I step into the front of the bakery and freeze. The man standing in the middle of the seating area of Crescent Sugar is the hottest man I’ve ever seen. Hot, honestly, doesn’t even cover it. He looks like he’s stepped out of a magazine ad to sell jeans, t-shirts, and leather. His arms are cut, his shoulders are broad, and his jaw is sharp.
The only thing I can do is blink a few times as I take the man in. His hair is black and styled in a faux hawk that would look forced on anyone other than him. Why is my mouth so damn dry right now?
He’s looking around the bakery and I feel my cheeks heat. He looks out of place in my shop. While I didn’t go full girly with ruffles and pink in my bakery, it is more on the feminine side. He looks out of place, but at the same time, it’s almost as if he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.
It doesn’t make any damn sense.
As he turns toward me from looking around, my gaze locks with his dark brown eyes and the breath he sucks in is audible. His hands flex and a thought flits through my mind—is he trying to stop himself from reaching for me?
I’ve never seen a man like him in real life. I had no doubt they existed, but to see one? I almost don’t even know where to look.
I want to take in every inch of his body. The way his jeans mold to his thighs is fucking sinful. I bet his ass is incredible and I can’t remember a time when I’ve ever checked out a man’s ass.
It’s clear he’s tall and I want to step closer to find out just how much taller he is than me. I’m not all that short at 5’7” and even with my curves, I have a feeling he would make me feel petite and dainty.
The man clears his throat and swallows hard before taking a step closer to the counter. “Are you Scarlett?”
His voice is a gentle rasp filled with something that I have no idea how to identify. I nod mutely and find myself moving around the counter and closer to him. It’s like I can’t stop it and I’m not sure if I want to.
“I’m Dean,” he blurts and then blinks before clearing his throat and shaking his head, “I mean Frenzy.”
“Frenzy?” Is that my voice? It’s much higher and tighter than it normally is.
The way a smile blooms on Frenzy’s face is sexy as hell. Or is it Dean? I’m confused. I’ve heard about road names before since I’ve spent a little bit of time around the Old Ladies of the club, but I always got the impression that road names were what was expected. I don’t think I’ve heard any of the brothers’ real names before.
“It’s my road name, Sugar,” he tilts his head to the side slightly like he’s studying me, “but I think that I’d rather you call me Dean.”
Holy shit.
“Nice to meet you?” It sounds more like a question than I intend it to sound, and I bite my lip to try to push away the embarrassment that washes over me. “I’m just not sure what you’re doing here, Dean.”
His dark eyes heat as he looks at me, his eyes trailing down my body and making me feel like his hands are mapping my curves. The way he’s looking at me makes it feel like my body is on fire. I’ve never felt this kind of attraction and I have no idea what to do with it or what to do about it.
“The Old Ladies were on a tear yesterday afternoon when they got to the clubhouse,” he starts to explain, and I find myself taking a step closer to him. His voice is rich with a hint of gravel that washes over me and has my pussy clenching on fucking nothing. “They brought the issues you’ve been having with vandalism and the break-in to the leadership of the club.”
My cheeks heat while pride and appreciation break free in my chest. The women took it to the club, just like they said they were going to do. It’s been a long time since someone has stood up for me and insisted at being at my side when it matters the most.
I love Valerie, and she has my back here at Crescent Sugar, but this feels bigger.
“The leadership wasn’t sure the club should be involved at first,” Frenzy rubs the back of his neck, his voice sheepish.
“I get it,” I hold my hand up to stop him from saying anything else. “I’m not part of the club and there’s no reason for anyone to get involved.” My shoulders slump and I feel defeat trying to take me down. “I’ve talked to the police every time there’s an incident. There’s nothing they can really do and have told me as much.”
Frenzy narrows his eyes, and his gaze hardens slightly as he stands up straighter. “The ladies can be very persuasive when they want to be, and they weren’t going to back down when it comes to you and whoever is targeting your bakery.”
“I’m sorry,” I blurt, “I didn’t ask them to do that.”
His face softens and my heart starts to pound in my chest. “I know, Sugar.”
I nod, but I’m unable to say anything. The way he’s looking at me makes me breathless. When he steps closer, almost erasing the little bit of distance between us, I want to step back, but I make myself hold my ground.
“I’m here to get a tour and to find out everything that’s happened. I’ll get with club leadership and come up with a plan. We’re going to keep you and your bakery safe, Scarlett,” there’s a promise in his voice that sends a shiver down my spine.
The way he says my name should not feel so good. It’s like sparks traveling along my skin.
Before I know what’s happening, he reaches up and tucks one of my curls behind my ear. A gasp escapes my lips at the way it feels when our skin touches. “Walk me through it and let me help you,” he whispers softly.
As I nod, the words spill from me. I walk him through every incident, every time I’ve found graffiti, and the break-in. He asks me about my schedule, and I fill him in as far as when I arrive at the bakery and when I leave. His dark eyes study me as he soaks up every word, until I mention that I’m here before the sun comes up, then something like anger flashes across his face.
“Do you have cameras?”
“No,” shame coats my words, “I wasn’t able to afford them at first with the equipment I needed for the kitchen. I did install an alarm system after the break-in.” My eyes drop to the floor, and I squeeze them shut. “I know it wasn’t smart. It’s not like I wanted to leave my business vulnerable.”
“Hey,” he coaxes me and grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger to raise my head up, “I’m not putting the blame on your shoulders, Sugar. That belongs firmly on whoever is terrorizing you and your bakery. I just want to know so a plan can be made to give you the coverage and the security you need.”
Tears prick the backs of my eyes. When was the last time anyone showed me this kind of compassion and kindness?
There’s something so damn alluring in this man’s eyes. I want to fall into the deep abyss of his gaze, but I know I shouldn’t. He’s a biker. He wouldn’t want me.
Right?
“Thank you, Dean,” I whisper.
His eyes become hooded, but then his touch falls away from me and he takes a step back. Yeah, I must have just imagined that he could want me. No real surprise there.
“I’ve got you,” he husks.
All I can do is nod before he turns and stalks out of my bakery. What the hell just happened.
“Wow,” Valerie’s voice is flustered.
When I turn around quickly, she’s fanning herself with her hand. I can’t blame her. Frenzy…Dean is too damn good looking for his own good.
I can admit to myself that I want him, but he’ll never be mine.
But a girl can dream.