Chapter 1
VIOLET
It’s still dark as I let myself into the Bean and Bun, a bakery I own here in Grand Lake, Colorado. Even though it’s early summer, the nights and early mornings are still cold. The sky above me is pitch black. Only the big moon and the millions of tiny stars to light my way. A shiver runs through me as I twist the key, unlocking the door.
I step inside the small space. It’s warm and comforting and still smells of sweetness from the day before. I swear, if I could magically bottle this scent, it would sell out in a heartbeat. I lock the door behind me and head to the back to get started.
In the kitchen, I flip the light on, and it’s so bright that it momentarily blinds me. I have to blink several times before my vision comes into focus. I set my things down and grab my apron. I tie it around my waist and then start gathering all the needed supplies. I turn the ovens and fryers on, letting them preheat. Turning the radio on and washing my hands, I get started.
This part of the day is more like a race. I don’t have time to stop and mess around. I don’t have time for mistakes. I’ve been doing this for a couple of years now and have the routine down pat. I start with the things that take longer, such as cinnamon rolls, and work my way to the easier things, such as donuts. While one bakes or fries, I take the other out of the displace case and iced them.
It takes over two hours to refill the display cases, but that doesn’t mean that I’m done. No, I have to make backups to replace what are sold out of the cases. At this point, I know exactly how many of everything to make—not considering a sudden rush—so most of the time, the day’s waste isn’t much, if anything. There are times, however, that I find myself struggling to make more of something. After I’ve stocked up, I get to the orders that have been placed for special pickups, things such as birthday cakes, cupcakes for office parties, and pre-packaged donuts for the local police force.
Before I know it, it’s six a.m. Time to open the doors. I head back out and unlock the door, turning on the open sign. Then, I move behind the register to get it going for the day. As usual, my employee, Jane, is running late. She comes rushing through the door like she sprinted the whole way.
“I’m so sorry! I overslept…again.”
I smile. “It sounds like you need to get a louder alarm clock,” I reply, tapping my code into the register.
Her brows draw together. “I’ve tried everything under the sun. It’s like I just tune everything out. Someone could probably get murdered in the apartment above me and I wouldn’t know what was going on.”
I laugh at her joke. “You’re fine, Jane. I expect it at this point.”
She ties her apron around her waist dejectedly. “I know. You just have so much on your plate already with baking everything. I feel like I’m letting you down.”
I turn to face her, putting my hands on the tops of her shoulders. “You’re fine. You do way more around here then you give yourself credit for.”
One side of her mouth lifts up into a smile. “Thanks. I don’t know what I did to deserve a boss like you, but I sure am lucky I found you. You wouldn’t imagine how many jobs I’ve been fired from because of this weird sleep problem of mine.”
I giggle. “I can only imagine.”
I release her and turn around to fill a bucket full of soapy water, then go to wipe down all the tables. This is something that gets done every night, but I’m a freak about having my place spotless.
As I’m wiping down a table, the door opens and in walks Sheriff Moore. “Mornin’, Sheriff.” I greet him with a smile.
“Good mornin’, Violet. How are the donuts today?” he asks, walking up to the counter where Jane is already setting down his typical order.
“Better than yesterday, if I do say so myself,” I say, a little smugly.
He chuckles. “I couldn’t imagine that, but I’ll take your word for it.” He pays for his donuts and turns for the door. “Have a good day.”
“You too. Stay safe,” I reply.
With a town this small, I know each person that comes in and what their order will be. I greet them all with a smile and exchange pleasant chit-chat. There’s nothing ever surprising here, and I enjoy that aspect. I guess many people wouldn’t like the monotony of a place like this, but it comforts me in a way I can’t explain. Growing up like I did, I didn’t always have the most stable life. I was raised in a single-parent household. My father held in strong and raised me as best he could—as well as any drug addict could, I guess. But my life was anything but stable. He was always losing jobs because he couldn’t pass a drug test. We moved around a lot and were homeless on more than one occasion. He loved me, though, and I was always his top priority, even above his drug use. I’d seen him go through withdrawals many times because he chose to buy me dinner instead of getting himself another fix. So, to be blatantly honest, I’ve been taking care of myself for longer than any other person my age. I saw the way I was raised, and I swore that I’d never let my life turn out like that. In fact, I still dream of finding Mr. Right and raising a family the correct way, not anything like the way I was raised. I want to do it right. But again, in a town this small, Mr. Right is hard to come by.
The door opens again, and Jane is taking out the trash, so I take my place behind the register. A little girl with long dark curls runs up to the display case, her dark eyes wide with excitement. She’s already licking her lips and reminds me so much of myself at her age. I’d say she’s probably only five or six.
A tall man walks up behind her. He smiles, seeing her delight. He’s sporting a thick stubble across his jaw. He’s wearing a baseball cap, dark curls peak out around his ears and the base of his neck. His black t-shirt is tight around his biceps and stretches across his chest nicely. I wonder how come I’ve never seen this man before. He for sure would’ve captured my attention. He must just be passing through.
“What can I get you?” I ask, walking to the back of the case.
The man replies without looking at me. “I’ll have a glazed donut and a cup of coffee.” He looks down at the girl. “What do you want, sweetie?”
“It all looks soooo good,” she says, her eyes only getting wider.
I giggle. “I’ll get your coffee while we wait,” I tell the man.
I spin around and pour the coffee while the two of them talk about what the girl should choose. I can’t help but to take him in. He’s tall and stocky, not too thin, not too thick. It’s easy to see that he works out, but it also looks like he enjoys life and isn’t one of those stuck up “I only eat healthy and exercise” type of people. I wonder how old he is. He doesn’t seem very old, but he doesn’t seem like he’s in his early twenties either. He has small wrinkles around his eyes, but nowhere else on his face, almost like he’s just lived a hard, stressful life. The lines beside his dark eyes and the scruffy beard only give him a hardened edge that draws me in.
I hand his coffee over to him and grab a box to put his donut in. “Have we decided?” I ask the little girl.
She puts her finger on her chin. “Ummmm, I think I want that pink donut.”
“This one?” I ask, pointing at the one in the case.
She shakes her head, causing her curls to bounce. “No, the one with the sprinkles.”
“Got it.” I pick it up and put it into the small box. I take the box over to the register and put it down. “Will there be anything else?”
“That’s it,” the man says.
I ring them up. “That’ll be five sixty-four.”
The little girl catches something out of the corner of her eye, and she gasps as I’m swiping his card.
“Daddy!” she says, yanking on his shirt. “I want that cookie!”
“Sorry, honey. I already paid,” he tells her, but she looks so sad I can’t stop myself from cheering her up.
“How about, if it’s okay with your dad, I give you that cookie for later? Like…maybe a treat for after supper?”
She smiles wide and looks up to him.
The man can’t say no to that face, so he rolls his eyes. “Alright.”
She jumps up and down, clapping her hands and giggling.
I reach into the case and take out the cookie, putting it in a small bag for later. “Here you go, honey.”
“Thank you,” she says as she takes it. Her voice is so sweet.
“You’re welcome, honey,” I reply.
“My name is Margo, not honey,” she says, scrunching up her nose.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Margo. I’m Violet.” I reach across the counter. She places her hand in mine and shakes it, more giggling erupting. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Thank you.”
I look up at the man and smile. “And it was nice to meet you too. Your daughter is adorable.”
“Thanks. I’m Carson Evans, by the way. We just moved into town.”
“Oh, well, I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of one another then. I own the bakery. I’m Violet.” Then I remember that he probably already knows my name since he was standing right next to his daughter when I told her. “Oh, I already said that, didn’t I?” I can’t hold back my nervous laughter. I feel my face heat up.
He blushes but quickly wipes it away again, like he just recalled a bad memory. “Well, I guess we better get going. You ready?” he asks, looking down at his daughter.
She’s already managed to sneak her donut out of the box, and she has pink icing all over her face. She nods, too busy chewing.
We both laugh. “Have a good day.” I wave them goodbye.
“Thanks,” Carson says, giving me a small wave as he holds the door open for the little girl, who’s more worried about eating her donut than watching where she’s going.
When the door closes behind them, I rush around the corner and peek out the window. I see him helping her into the backseat of a very nice Chevy truck. His arms move around like he’s strapping her in, then he closes the door and takes a sip of his coffee as he walks around to the driver’s seat. Just before climbing in, he looks back at the bakery and our eyes meet. His seem to grow even darker, and his angular jaw flexes, but he tears his eyes away from mine and climbs into the truck.
“What in the world are you doing? Jane asks, walking in from behind me.
I jump upright, my hand flying to my heart. “Don’t do that! You scared me.”
She laughs as she walks over to the sink to wash her hands. “What are you looking at out there? Jimmy steaming down main again?”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “No. There’s a new man in town.”
Her eyes widen. “Ohhhh, spill.”
“Well,” I start, coming around the counter to talk to her. “He’s tall and good-looking. He had dark curly hair that he had smashed down with a cap, and he had dark stubble across his jaw. Dark eyes too. And he has a daughter who looks just like him, with dark curly hair and big dark eyes. She was adorable. Her name was Margo.”
“What’s his name?”
“Carson Evans,” I answer with a nod.
“Where’s he living?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to appear stalkerish.”
This makes her roll her eyes. “Nobody could ever accuse you of being a stalker. You don’t even leave your house if it’s not to work.”
“I do too,” I argue. “I just stay on my property. I bought it. Why not put it to good use?”
“Um, to find a man, hello! I highly doubt you’re going to find one wandering your property. And if you do, don’t date him. Run!”
I laugh. “I’ll make a mental note of that.” I head back into the kitchen to finish cleaning up.