Chapter Ten
Bones
Sidling up beside my brother by one of the spray booths, I take a quick look at the custom designs being worked on. “So, what did you want, turd burglar?” I ask.
Marcus bumps shoulders with me and then throws Sunny a sneaky smile. “It’s Monday, Bones,” he reminds me.
“And?” I say with a roll of my eyes, more than aware it’s Fight Club Night. “What about it?”
“Just be careful, sister,” he warns me, before his gaze slides back to Sunny.
“Abusive men are like cut snakes. You know they’re going to lash out .
.. you just don’t know when.” Turning his attention back to me, Marcus closes the space between us so that he’s speaking directly into my ear.
“If her ex gives you any trouble tonight, you call me. I’ll bail on the spot if you need. I’m here for you no matter what.”
Gently pulling my hand from Sunny’s grasp, I reach up and embrace my brother in return.
It’s nothing sappy—just a quick two-pat hug.
But for us, it says everything words never could.
My brother would die for me, and I would freely make the same sacrifice for him.
Our loyalty is blood deep, but the bond we share as siblings is one of souls.
Marcus might be a year older than me, but we look like fraternal twins and act like partners in crime.
He doesn’t have to let me know that he’s got my back, I already know it, but he does anyway.
“All right, well, I don’t need you in the shop anymore today, so if you want to hit the road, we’re all good here,” he says as we both withdraw. My brother’s dark eyes, so much like mine, stare back at me with a warmth few people ever get to see from him.
“Thanks for the drink and the shower,” Sunny says out of nowhere, her bright smile lightening up the seriousness of the moment. “I feel much better now.”
I can’t help but chuckle. Amusingly awkward or not, my Daisy Girl has a way of diffusing a situation it seems. I imagine her seeing a problem and throwing her trademark sunniness at it like rays of white light, literally willing it to be better, and sending the darkness away.
“Okay, cool,” I say. “If you don’t need me, we’re just going to grab some takeout and head home. Text me when you’re home safe?”
Marcus nods. “Will do,” he says, before adding, “Now, fuck off and treat this cherry pie to a good night in.”
“I will,” I retort, taking Sunny’s hand once more. “Come on, sunshine. Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”
The blushing blonde waves at Marcus as I lead her back to my motorcycle. “Bye!” she calls. “And thanks again!”
“Could you be any sweeter?” I ask, an eyebrow cocked as I hold out the spare helmet to her.
She accepts the helmet and dishes me up a wry smile. “I could roll around in sugar, I suppose,” she offers.
My imagination sparks to life instantly and I envisage licking her clean from head to toe—paying special attention to all the curves in-between.
It’s enough to reawaken the throbbing pulse between my thighs.
I can’t with this girl! “Well, that’s dessert sorted,” I tease.
“But any ideas on what you feel like having for dinner first?”
Sunny pulls on her helmet and lowers her visor, her voice reaching me over comms clearly as I follow suit. “I don’t know. I mean, I know it’s not really dinner food, but I am actually craving something sweet...”
A grin splits my face. “We can start with cake, ice cream, or milkshakes and think about something savory for later,” I suggest. “I don’t give a fuck what order I eat in.”
“Really?” she asks, the innocence of her excitement adorable to my ears. “Because I’d just about die for a red velvet cupcake or two.”
I mount my hog and Sunny gets on behind me. “We can definitely do cupcakes,” I say, switching on the ignition and revving the engine. “The best bakery in all of Jacksonville is just two blocks from here. We can even take a walk on the beach if you like?”
Sunny squeezes me tightly and her giggles are shrill. “The beach and cupcakes? Hell, yeah!”
Thirty seconds later we’re back on the road and heading toward Third Street South. “I know the owner of the bakery,” I tell her. “Sandra, she’s a doll. You’ll love her. She always takes care of the Sons, and we offer her protection in return.”
“I can’t wait to meet her,” Sunny says, still holding tight as we cruise. “Does she need any help? I could totally see myself working in a bakery.” She sighs wistfully and I feel her body relax against mine.
Before long, the ocean stretches out on our left, the cerulean waters lapping at the shore darkening to teal and finally sapphire by the end of the pier, while the late afternoon sun sits high in the sky and casts a shimmering sheen over the North Atlantic for as far as the eye can see.
“All right, Daisy Girl, we’re here.” I pull over on the side of the road, drop the kickstand, then dismount.
“Thank you,” Sunny says as she accepts my offered hand and hops off my Harley. We stow our helmets and cross the street hand in hand. “Sugar & Spice? That is such a cute name,” she comments as we approach the clearly Italian owned and operated beach-front bakery.
I open the door for her and she steps inside, her expression the equivalent of a kid in a candy store. “Like what you see?” I ask, guiding her inside, my hand in the small of her back.
Sunny’s eyes gleam with child-like glee as her gaze falls upon the sweet treats on display behind the fingerprint-covered glass. “Oh, my god. Bones, this is adorable!”
The blonde beauty’s delight fills me with warmth and brings back childhood memories of days spent on the beach, fighting in back alleys, and running together to Sugar & Spice with our pocket money.
Despite Jacksonville growing around it, the modern world erasing the bones of the past, the hole-in-the-wall bakery remains an everyday staple in the lives of locals and tourists alike.
It boasts a certain honesty and old-world charm you don’t see too much anymore.
With its lovingly restored vintage facade, Italian flags snapping in the breeze, and prime beachfront location it seems wholesomely simple—just a bakery on the beach.
.. Here, everyone is treated the same. We’re all just kids at heart, still yearning to sate our inner sweet tooth because it makes us feel good .
.. because the sweets are only half of it.
It’s the experiences and memories tied to those sugary treats that we all hold onto. It’s what keeps us coming back.
Not to mention that there’s just something about a multi-generational family business that makes the heart crack wide open.
The people behind the pastries are like Jacksonville Beach’s very own Italian family.
Some of us have been coming here since before we could speak.
And Nonna Sandra is everyone’s other grandmother, the one that always smiles when she sees you and for a moment in time there’s nothing but happiness and the soul-warming aromas of fresh, crisp pastry, cinnamon, and sugar.
Inhaling deeply, I smile as Sandra comes into view, entering the kitchen from out the back.
And as a deep sense of peace washes over me, I realize just how important sharing this little bakery on memory lane with Sunny is to me.
The nostalgia fills me with happiness and I wave at Nonna.
“Nonna!” I call out. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet!
” Beside me, Sunny shivers with anticipation and the broadest, most adorably impish grin I’ve ever seen.