Chapter 16
I couldn’t remember another time I had driven through Cedar Bluff so fast without lights and sirens clearing my way. Thankfully, it was late enough that most of the roads were empty. The second I heard her voice—soft, shaky, not at all Goldie—something primal snapped awake in my chest.
I rushed into the bakery and saw her sitting at one of the prep tables in the back kitchen, a paper in her hands, shoulders small and tight like she was trying to fold into herself.
“Goldie,” I said softly, moving toward her.
Her head jerked up, and her glossy eyes called to me. “Tanner,” her voice cracked. “I think someone is trying to destroy my business.”
I made it to her in three strides and gently took the flyer from her ice-cold fingers, scanning it.
Sweet Cravings Café. Franchise branding. Corporate gloss.
My jaw clenched as I held her hand in mine, rubbing warmth back into her fingers.
“He said I wasn’t going to make it,” she whispered. “That the competition will crush me.”
I kneeled in front of her and ran my palms up the worn fabric of her jeans, resting them on her thighs.
“Look at me.” I commanded. I hated how the woman looking back at me wasn’t the bakery owner, or the town darling everyone knew her to be.
The woman looking back at me was scared, trying not to fall apart.
“You are Honey & Hearth,” I said firmly.
“This bakery is the heartbeat of Cedar Bluff. No corporation can replace that. Not with all the money in the damn world.”
Her lip trembled, “He made me feel…stupid. Small. Like I’m the one who doesn’t belong here.”
Anger flared hot and fast in my chest. “You listen to me, Marigold James,” I said, voice steady and strong. “No one is going to come into this town and take away your dream.” I brushed a tear from her cheek and leaned forward, laying a kiss on her forehead. “Not while I’m breathing.”
She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around me, clinging to me. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered.
“Yes, you can,” I murmured into her hair. “Because you’re not alone. Not anymore.”
I felt her soften against me.
I felt her break.
And then rebuild.
Right in my arms.
She just needed a safe place to crumble so she could put herself back together again. Goldie was strong like that, and she knew it, even if she had her doubts at the moment.
“Let us help you,” I said. “Me. And Rhea. The whole damn town, if we have to.”
She nodded against my shoulder, fists gripping the fabric of my uniform like she needed an anchor. And I held her until the trembling stopped.
Rhea showed up at the station ten minutes early.
Because, of course she did.
I glanced up at her when I walked out of the heavy steel door to the parking lot and fought back a grin.
She looked like a badass, and she knew it. Her boots were planted, arms crossed, leather jacket over a graphic tee that read Stop, drop and… try not to fall for me. Subtle wasn’t exactly her thing, but I was kind of a fan.
“You ready to go all Mission Impossible on Bakewell’s ass?” She asked, smirking as I juggled the folder of permits and half a dozen sticky notes I’d already started collecting on Sweet Cravings Café.
“I was thinking more CSI,” I said, “But sure, we’ll go with budget Tom Cruise if it helps your ego.”
She laughed, one quick bark of a sound. “Wow. He jokes.”
I opened the passenger door to my patrol SUV and leaned my arm on the top of the window frame, “Don’t get used to it.”
She glanced at the opening and then back at me. “Don’t get used to what? You being nice enough to open my door, or the joking?”
“Joking.” I deadpanned, nodding for her to hurry up already, “I’m always a gentleman.”
“Bummer,” she teased as she got in, and I rolled my eyes as I shut the door behind her.
Getting behind the wheel, we headed off to the town records office, both of us oddly quiet as we crossed the village streets.
“Have you talked to Goldie?” I asked finally. Last night, when I left her at home, driving her there myself after her run-in with that slimeball at her bakery, I called Rhea.
It wasn’t a competition between us after all, and Goldie needed us both.
She nodded, “Yeah, she didn’t sleep much.”
“He really rattled her.”
“She’s strong,” she replied, as if that countered my statement somehow.
That made me glance over, “I know that.”
She met my gaze, “Good. Then don’t coddle her. That’s not what she needs.”
“What does she need then, oh wise one?” I raised one eyebrow at her before turning my attention back to the traffic light that had just turned green.
“She needs you to stand beside her.” Rhea replied, sighing as if it was painful to tell me. “She looks to you for grounding and protection, so be there to watch over her and lend her support, but don’t shield her from the world. She’s stronger than that.”
I smirked, knowing those words probably tasted like acid in her mouth. Rhea didn’t compliment anyone, especially me. “Is that a warning?”
She leaned back, stretching her legs out as if she owned the whole damn car. “Consider it a preemptive tip. But don’t worry, while you’re being that steady, sure, and unwavering support for her, I’ll be the one to take her mind off everything else.”
I glared at her, squinting slightly, and she smirked again. “Is that what she looks to you for? Distraction?”
She scoffed like the word was beneath her, “Call it what you want, Golden Boy, but she likes to forget the world exists when she’s with me. She comes to me for softness and comfort. And I’m not in any way going to tell her I’m not available when she needs that.”
I shook my head, chuckling despite myself, “You’re intense.”
“Only about things that matter,” she said, voice low and ominous. “And Goldie? She matters.”
Silence surrounded us again, but this time it was easy. As if there had been some sort of truce laid out between us. Even if there were still barbed words thrown out for fun.
She pulled her phone out, flipping through something on her screen. “Have you ever heard of a Bakewell rep poking around the Miller property? I think it’s connected.”
“No,” I frowned. “But I got a call back from the zoning office this morning. Somebody requested early blueprints for three other buildings in town.”
Her head snapped up. “Which ones?”
“Vinyl Voyages, The Corner Store, and that empty garage off Main.”
She cursed under her breath. “All small businesses or potential development spaces. They’re picking targets.”
“We need proof.” I turned left toward the town hall. “We find that, and then we build a case. We’re trying to prove zoning violations, permit fraud, and even harassment if we can document it.”
“And then?” she asked.
I smiled grimly. “We go public. And we let the town eat them alive.”
Her grin matched mine. “Now that’s the cop I hoped you were.”
We spent the next two hours digging through public permits, property sales, and submitted renovation requests. Side by side, Rhea and I scanned through every single bit of information we could find.
Turned out Bakewell had submitted four franchise filings under shell names. All within the last six months. None of the property records matched because they hid their tracks well. But not that well, because we found them.
They weren’t just opening one location across the street from Goldie. They were trying to monopolize the entire town.
At one point, Rhea looked over at me, lips pressed together. “You think this is just about Goldie anymore?”
“No,” I tapped the folder, sitting back in the chair and stretching my arms over my head.
I tracked her gaze from the corner of my eye as she let it wander across my chest and arms until I sat back up straight.
“But I think Goldie is the first real target. She’s the heart of the town.
If she folds, maybe they think others might follow suit easier. ”
I turned and stared into her dark eyes and held her gaze.
That shared fire was there, burning deep.
And something else, too. An understanding, perhaps, that we were both in this for Goldie, and, strangely, for each other too.
And maybe my feelings had shifted over the last few weeks of building this dynamic between the three of us, because I didn’t loathe that idea.
I broke the stare off, swallowing down a whole tirade of things that felt like they should be said, and slid a paper across the table to her. “Think you can sweet-talk the county fire inspector for access to the sprinkler maintenance logs?”
She snorted, “At least make the objectives difficult if you want to entertain me.” Leaning back in her chair confidently, she went on. “He owes me two favors, three if I add on the time I helped his wife plan a getaway for their anniversary. All I need to do is make one phone call.”
I smiled, “Remind me never to owe you anything. You’re scary when you’re smug.”
“Too late,” Rhea said with a shrug. “We’re in this together now, Officer Golden Boy. Things are going to get messy eventually.”
And damn if that didn’t sound enticing.