Chapter 3
I was dreaming of icing. The kind that poured perfectly from the bowl and melted the second it rolled across a warm cinnamon roll. I had perfected it years ago, but for some reason, I still dreamed of the perfect pour. If I could get the pour to go right, then the whole day went right.
It was just facts.
But my dream was interrupted, something disturbed the melting sugar and pulled me out of my slumber until my heart raced in my chest. I sat up straight in my bed and ripped my sleep mask off as my ears tried to discern what I was hearing.
Pounding.
Wood rattling.
My front door.
“Coming!” I called, throwing myself from my bed, stumbling on the floor as I shoved my bare feet into my slippers. “Hold on!”
The pounding stopped as I weaved down the stairs with my oversized sleep shirt hanging off one shoulder. My hair was pinned up in a bandana, and I cringed when I caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror on my way to the door.
I hoped whoever it was didn’t scare easily, because I was not at my best.
I glanced at the clock on the wall and paused before opening the front door.
Three am.
Who on earth would bother me in the middle of the night?
“Goldie!” A familiar deep voice echoed through the wood of my front door, “It’s Tanner. Open up.”
Any hesitation or reservation I had about opening my door in the middle of the night, looking like a fool, vanished as I threw the locks and opened the heavy door. “Tanner,” I squinted against the bright red and blue lights flashing behind him in my driveway. “What on earth is going on?”
His eyes raked down my body as I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hide the way my shirt did little to block the cold air, assaulting my bare nipples underneath. “Goldie,” He cleared his throat. “Go get dressed, I need you to come with me.”
“What?” I stammered, clicking the porch light on so I could see him better and that was when I realized he was in his uniform, dripping wet, standing on my front porch in the cold early spring air. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Honey & Hearth.” He said solemnly as he put his hand on the wood of my door and stepped inside. “It’s flooded.”
His words hit like ice water over my neck, and my stomach dropped, nausea rolling through me.
“No.” I whispered, stepping forward. “No, no, no.” I went to go around him, like I’d be able to see my bakery from across town, proving him wrong, but he wrapped his arm around my chest and pushed me back gently into my warm home.
“Goldie, get dressed. And I’ll take you over there.” Tanner said, and I hated how sad he looked.
I hated how broken his voice sounded as he kept up the farce.
“What—” I shook my head and took a step back, breaking the physical contact. “I don’t understand, it’s not even raining. How did it flood?”
“The sprinklers malfunctioned.” He closed the door behind him and clicked the light switch on the wall, bathing us in soft light from the lamp in the living room behind me.
“We got dispatched with the fire department from the automatic alarm system in the building. They’re working on getting the sprinklers off now. I’ll take you down.”
“I—” I pressed my palms to my forehead, still grappling with what he was saying as sleep faded from my body.
“Just get dressed, Goldie. We’ll get it all squared away when we get down there. Just go get dressed.”
I turned and walked back into my bedroom on autopilot as his words played on repeat in my mind. I pulled fresh clothes on in a rush and tore my bandana down, letting my wild curls free before putting them up in a clip as I ran back out to him.
Even through the panic in my heart, part of me noticed how tired Tanner looked, wet and dirty, standing there in the soft glow of my living room. “Can I get you a towel, or a drink, or something?” I asked, sliding my feet into my sneakers.
A soft, almost sad smile crossed his features, warming something inside of me as he put his hand on my arm, guiding me toward the door.
“Even in a crisis, you’re trying to take care of everyone else, Goldie.
” He took my keys from the hook next to my door, which I had completely forgotten about, and turned to lock my door for me. “I’m all set.”
I smiled at him, through my turmoil, because his steady confidence seemed to hold me together when my mind was telling me to break down. He led me to his cruiser, and I didn’t argue or try to reason with him as he led me to the passenger seat and helped me in.
With the same steady confidence, he took the seatbelt and reached over me, buckling me in as I sat frozen in place, unable to even process the bare basics in my shock, but it didn’t matter. Because Tanner took care of it.
Took care of me.
“Thank you.” I whispered as he leaned back out of the SUV and gave me a gentle smile, blue and red lights flashing across his perfect face.
“Don’t mention it.”
I barely registered the quick drive seven blocks across town to where Honey & Hearth was, nestled directly in the town square.
I was too lost in watching the red and blue lights from Tanner’s cruiser flash off everything in the sleepy, quiet town before merging with the dozens of other lights visible as he turned onto Main Street.
When we pulled up, parking right behind the multiple fire trucks, the sight greeting me hollowed me out.
My bakery—my entire world—looked like a crime scene. Water streamed down the glass windows, reflecting the lights even brighter. The front door hung open, broken along the edge as if someone had kicked it in, and as I peered through the gaping hole, I could see water spread across the tiled floor.
My lungs seized.
I barely noticed Tanner helping me out of the car until his arm wrapped around my back, holding me to his side as he held me up, ushering me through the chaos outside. “Easy,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Thank God, too. Because as soon as I stepped through the front door, my knees wanted to buckle.
The air reeked of damp wood and ruined dreams. Water dripped from every surface, down the walls, tables, and counters.
The mural I’d painted by hand behind the front counter, the one customers saw the moment they walked through the front door, already peeled, the drywall crumbling beneath the water weight soaked into it.
I pressed my hand over my mouth, but the sob still broke free around it.
The noise was broken and reflected the desperation in my heart as I tried to figure out how I’d rebuild something I’d already poured my life’s savings into.
“All my—” my voice cracked as people lingered around us, watching me break. “I built this. With everything I had. And now it’s—”
“Shh,” Tanner pulled me into his chest, and I let him.
I let his strong arms wrap around me like steel and shield me from the horrifying damage around us.
His shirt was damp, but I could still smell the familiarity of his cologne through it, and I let it ground me. His embrace was solid. He was solid.
Tanner didn’t minimize my feelings or try to sugarcoat anything. He didn’t lie. He didn’t make promises he couldn’t back up. He just held me and let me cry into his shirt over his bulletproof vest.
I barely noticed the other people moving around us until one voice carried through the mess in my head.
“Sprinklers are cut off,” Rhea Dalton announced, and I turned my face from Tanner’s chest as she rose from a squat against the wall in front of a control panel.
Her long dark hair was tied back in a wet braid, and her soaked blue uniform shirt clung to her upper body as she wiped her hands on a rag, putting tools away into a kit.
The fireproof pants she wore from her turnout gear should have looked silly on a woman who was no taller than me, and on me they would have, but she carried the weight of them as if they were an extension of herself. As if they were part of her identity.
Her bottomless green eyes glanced over at us and then stuck on the way Tanner’s arms were still around me. Something flickered across her face, something sharp and unreadable—but it was gone before I could name it.
“Brooks,” An officer from outside called in through the front door, “We need you outside for a minute.”
Tanner hesitated, glancing down at me as I took a step back, forcing myself to stand under my own power. “Are you okay?”
No, I wasn’t. But I nodded anyway, forcing an iron bar into my spine that held me up when the days were long and the fears were strong.
I had fought through so many fears over the last few years, trying to build this dream into a reality, and I had to keep that fight in me now. If I lost it, I’d crumble for good.
His hand lingered on my elbow a beat too long before he gave me a nod and moved toward the door.
Which left me alone in the room with Rhea.
Everyone else moved in and out, but only the two of us stood still.
We didn’t really know each other. Cedar Bluff was small, so I knew of her, the firefighter with the long legs and the cocky smirk, but I didn’t know her. Yet, somehow standing in the wreckage of my dream, the distance between us felt thinner.
Rhea leaned against the massive hearth in the center of the room, crossing her arms. “Hey.”
I rubbed my eyes, heat rushing to my cheeks as I got out of the way of a firefighter carrying something that looked like a generator into the back room. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall apart—”
“You’re allowed.” Her voice was steady, but gentle.
“This is your home. I’d be worried if you weren’t upset.
” Something in the how she called my bakery my home made me feel seen.
She gestured to the dripping ceiling and the soggy tables.
“But this, it’s fixable. It’s just stuff.
You didn’t lose the heart of it. Because that’s inside you.
You bring the warmth to this place, not the other way around. “
I took a deep breath and looked around the space, trying to envision it all as just stuff. “You say that like you are a regular here,” I chuckled softly, but it fell flat. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here.”
She shrugged, giving me that signature one-sided smirk, making the deep dimple pop in her cheek. “I eat and drink something made by your hands multiple times a week.”
Why the hell did that sound so—personal?
Intimate.
“Really?” I whispered, clearing my throat as I tried to get my head straight.
She nodded once, holding my gaze as if she had a magnet in her eyes that drew mine in until I couldn’t manage to look away.
“You’re the warmth of this cold town, Marigold.
” The sound of my full name on her lips was intoxicating.
If I wasn’t in the middle of a crisis, I might have melted for the sexy woman with her effortless dominance that made me want to fold and follow directions like a good girl. “This won’t break you.”
I scoffed, forcing myself to look away as one of her co-workers swept water off the floor with a push squeegee. “You have more faith in me than I do at the moment.”
“That’s okay,” She leaned up off the hearth, watching her people clear out of the building. “I’m willing to share it with you.”
“Thanks,” I glanced at the door longingly, but I knew there wasn’t a chance in hell of leaving the building until I could breathe easily again. I’d work through the fear.
“Off the record,” She said, taking a couple of steps toward me until she stood in my bubble, and lowered her voice, “Sprinklers like these rarely malfunction on their own. Not like this.”
I blinked, looking around for some clue as to what would have made them go off then. “But there wasn’t a fire, right?”
“Correct.” She raised one dark brow at me, “I think something tripped them. But there’s no proof anywhere to be found.”
“Meaning,” I leaned in, hanging on what she was saying. “You think someone tripped them.”
Rhea’s eyes met mine, dark and sure. “Could be. But I can’t prove it. Not yet. But if I were you, I wouldn’t chalk this up to bad luck.”
A shiver ran through me, sharp and cold. I wrapped my arms around myself as she walked out the front door, leaving me in the wreckage of my bakery while the weight of her words sank in.
Who would want to sabotage Honey & Hearth?