Chapter Two
Phoebe
Idon’t know what it is, but something about Tucker excites me. It’s a strange feeling because I’ve never really had these urges before, so I’m not entirely sure what to do with them. Or what they mean.
My hand touches the spot on my hip where my tattoo sits.
The reminder of what I’ve been through in my life, but more than that, it’s a symbol of how strong I am.
I’ve been through hell and made it out on the other side.
Happier than I’ve ever been, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a conscious choice every single day.
“Hey, Phoebe,” Sarah says, running through the back door out of breath. “Thanks for giving me some time off. I really needed to reconnect with Scotty.”
I just smile at the brunette. She’s barely twenty-five, and she’s a great employee. Hardworking and dedicated. Until she started helping around the bakery, she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life. It’s a really special feeling knowing I’ve helped her see her potential.
“No problem, Sarah. You’ve worked incredibly hard the past few weeks. I really appreciate it.”
The need to reconnect with Scotty doesn’t quite make sense to me, but I’ve seen them together. There’s real love between them. Something I don’t think I’ll ever have.
And I don’t know that I want it.
Love makes you weak. Vulnerable. As nice as it would be to have someone around to help me out with certain things—like bills after getting robbed—I never want to be in a situation where I could be destroyed.
Nope, I’m just going to enjoy being myself and running a bakery that brings in more customers every day. That’s my goal in life.
Tucker went over the various security options for the store, but I only met with him because Scotty asked me to. I honestly believe it was a one-off situation. And when he told me the cost of the different options, I told him as much, too.
I don’t have a lavish lifestyle, and the business has started to do well. But even if I had the money that was taken, it’s not an expense I can afford right now.
“What are you working on?” Sarah asks, bending over to sniff the cupcakes that are finally cool enough to frost.
“Oh, it’s just an experiment. It’s a pretzel-like cake made with stout, and I have marshmallow frosting. Then I’ll top it with sea salt flakes.”
Her eyes widen. “That sounds both disgusting and amazing.”
This makes me laugh. I’m always trying to find new innovations to help set us apart from the grocery store bakeries. Most of the time, they turn out okay, but I’ve had my share of major fails. Like the lavender and espresso brownies. That was bad.
But I have had a few successes, too. Ones that were only meant to be temporary but have solidified their permanent spot on the menu.
I frost two of the cupcakes with the marshmallow frosting and sprinkle the sea salt on top. “Here, be my taste tester. And bring one to Scotty. I know he’s in the lobby to keep an eye on things.”
When Sarah first found me experimenting in the kitchen, she was skeptical. But now that she’s in culinary school, she understands the balance I strive for. And the best way to learn is to try. Failure only shows you what not to do and how to fix it next time.
She smiles and walks through the door to the lobby. “Scotty! Try this!”
“Cupcake? Hell yeah!” he says, hurrying toward his girlfriend.
I suspect he heard from Tucker that I opted out of a security system, and he’s here to keep an eye on Sarah more than the store. Tucker promised we’d find a solution after his fourth donut, but I think it was just a sugar high. And a bit unnecessary.
Honestly, who would target me?
“What is this?” Scotty asks, his eyes wide as I walk out to join them.
Sarah takes a big bite, and her eyes widen, too. “Oh my God,” she mumbles with her mouth full.
This could go either way. “Good or bad?”
“It’s…” Scotty takes another bite, shoving the rest of the cupcake into his mouth, “ah-may-zin.”
“I love sweet and salty, and I think I need to try pretzels with marshmallow frosting now. How did you even come up with this?” Sara asks. “And this has to go on the menu, Phoebe. Seriously. This is… This is that recipe you’ve been searching for.”
It’s the highest compliment anyone can give me.
Smiling, I shrug. “I got the idea when I went to a German restaurant. There was this appetizer with pub pretzels, and one of the dipping sauces was a marshmallow fluff. It was flavored with alcohol, but it was still pretty remarkable. And it gave me the inspiration for a cupcake.”
“But elevated,” she says. “I mean, you can taste the stout, which I normally hate, but it’s the perfect addition. Gives it depth. And the salt on top brings it to an orgasmic level.”
Scotty bites his lower lip. “You know, I’m not sure I quite got all that, but maybe if I had another one to try, I could figure out if I agree or disagree.”
Chuckling, I nod and frost two more for both of them, sprinkling the top with the flakes. Both devour the treats, moaning in appreciation.
This is why I do this. I like to express happiness and joy through any means necessary, but especially in my food.
“Okay, guys. We’re closing up, so we need to pack up the leftover pastries to bring to the homeless shelter.”
“The homeless guys I see around here are fatter than they’ve ever been. The food definitely doesn’t go to waste,” Scotty says. “How you even have anything left over at the end of the day boggles my mind.”
It’s true. I don’t have to bring the pastries to the shelter every night. I could do what a lot of other places do and serve them the next day. But I’ve never liked that idea. I like being able to boast about my items being baked fresh. As far as the pastries are concerned.
If I didn’t make the cakes and brownies the night before, I’d end up here at midnight to be ready to open. But cakes are more forgiving than flaky pastries.
“Heard your meeting with Pacino didn’t land us a deal for a system,” Scotty says, walking back to get the stack of boxes Sarah grabs for him.
I shake my head. I hate his nickname. Or road name. I don’t really know what the difference is, but to make a joke about something that probably has a horrific and traumatic story behind it is just cruel.
“Too expensive. I just can’t swing it right now. But I’m sure it’s fine. It was probably a random guy seeing an opportunity,” I say, loading up one of the boxes with lemon curd tarts with fresh strawberries on top.
“I’ll see what I can do as far as a discount,” he says, popping a tart in his mouth. “It would make me feel better knowing you two were safe when you’re here. Especially at night.”
Sarah crosses her arms and shakes her head. “You should have to pay for that, you know.”
“You’re giving them away to the homeless!”
“Are you homeless? Did you suddenly get evicted from the place we spent ten minutes of pleasure in today?”
“Ten!” he exclaims. “Try an hour.”
She shrugs. “Fifteen minutes.”
“At least half an hour.”
“Okay, twenty-three. Doesn’t answer the question, does it?”
Pouting, he pulls out his wallet. “Fine, how much?”
I wave my hand in the air, smirking at Sarah. “It’s fine, Scotty. You know you’re welcome to sample the products when you’re here. You’re honestly my best advertisement.”
And I mean that. He goes out and brags about my shop, and business has almost doubled since Sarah brought him in here. He and the Perk Up Café get the word out about my bakery the best.
“Did you see that?” Scotty asks, setting the box on the counter as he walks to the door.
His hand moves to rest on the taser in the holster on his hip. I love Scotty, but I’m kind of glad that’s all he carries. He’s an excitable one, especially after consuming his body weight in sugar. I worry what he might do with a real gun.
“See what?” Sarah asks, walking over to join him. “What’s out there?”
“That SUV. It’s driven by a few times now.”
I frown. “Are you sure it’s the same SUV?”
“Yep,” he says. “It’s kind of my job to notice these things.”
“Don’t get snippy with Phoebe,” Sarah says, punching his arm.
Walking over, I rest my hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. He seems anxious.”
“That SUV is casing out the place,” he says and locks the door. “I’m calling Pacino.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I say.
My words fall on deaf ears as he pulls out his phone and calls his boss. As much as it may seem like I’m protesting, I’m kind of happy. I want to see Tucker again. He’s grumpy and dark, and I should want to stay as far away from him as possible. But there’s something underneath that calls to me.
Something dangerous, and I don’t know what I’d do if he happens to show any interest in me as well. The way he makes me feel tells me I’ll let him chew me up and spit me out.
No, it’s better to keep a safe distance. But just because you’re on a diet doesn’t mean you can’t eye up the dessert cart, right?