Chapter 1
CHAPTER
ONE
MARNIE
TWO MONTHS LATER
Looking around the shop I’ve created, I’m excited to finally open my doors. While I was at Sparrow House, I rented the storefront at the end of a small strip mall so I could have a drive-up window. Opening my own French bakery was a dream they couldn’t take away from me.
I spent over three years at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, mastering breads and pastries. The years I worked in bakeries afterward refined my skills even further and taught me more than many students ever learn.
Looking out the windows of my shop at the mountains in the distance calms me.
Pioneer Peak stands proud over the Matanuska Valley like a sentinel.
The snow melting off it under the summer sun adds a fullness to my heart.
I was lucky to get this lease and had a crew here converting the space to my needs.
Working with this view and doing what I love is going to be a blessing.
“Momma.” Oly runs from the kitchen, giggling, with powdered sugar on her nose. The sound cracks my heart, and I dab at the tears blooming at the inner corners of my eyes.
She’s in a dress that matches mine, gray with red polka dots and a thin red ribbon tied around her waist. Her long hair is pulled back into a ponytail, a red flower tucked at the base. Against her beautiful mahogany hair, it stands out in a subtle way.
My dress is the same color but in a retro style with a straight skirt that falls to my knees.
A red ribbon holds the halter neckline, with another tied around my waist, just like Olympia’s.
My red high heels aren’t practical, but for opening day, they’ll set me apart from other bakers in town.
My deep brown hair is set in pin curls at the front and gathered into a bun at the back of my head.
I love that I can be myself again and dress in my own style.
They hated it before, but now they can’t stop me.
The tattoos I’ve been adding for years are visible and on display down my arms and fingers.
My makeup is on point, with a bright red lip and winged eyeliner with only a few false lashes to accentuate my already thick ones.
I’m one of those women people love to hate because of my lashes.
I’ve never needed a full set of falsies.
It’s a style I started perfecting years ago but I was always told I looked like a whore, and he wouldn’t allow it.
No one associated with him was allowed to look this trashy.
He tried to get me to laser off my tattoos because they covered the marks he left on me every day.
I look over as Harlowe skips out from the back, chasing my daughter.
I hired her on Monday after she messaged me several times.
She’s not professionally trained, but she’s knowledgeable and wants to learn.
Plus, I like her. She’s younger than me, and her hunger for life is infectious.
There’s something pure and sweet deep inside her.
I was nervous the first time she came in, especially with her huge emotional support dog and the bikers who followed her.
But I’m not scared anymore. I feel safer knowing they’re out there.
I suspect, like me, she’s hiding something in her past, but I don’t push her for answers.
If I do, she’ll want me to share too, and I can never do that.
I can’t let anyone else suffer because of me again.
The bell jingles over the door, and I turn to greet the customer.
My heart thumps in my chest, and I almost trip in my heels.
He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. He’s the epitome of an Alaskan man, like he just walked out of his bush cabin to come into town.
I’m tall, and my heels make me even taller at about six feet, but this man is huge in every way.
He’s got to be close to six-foot-eight at least. His hair is a bit long and medium brown, and his eyes are the color of whiskey.
His beard and mustache are neatly trimmed.
His straight nose has a bump at the base, like it’s been broken before.
A thick brown eyebrow with a scar through it arches as he takes me in.
Oly buries herself against me, pressing her face to my neck. She’s still scared around strangers.
His eyes rake over me again like a caress, settling on the exposed swells of my breasts.
A deep growl escapes from his chest, but instead of scaring me, my body responds.
My nipples pucker, and I’m so glad my padded bra hides the fact.
But no amount of makeup can hide the flush warming my pale skin.
His gaze follows it up, and he smirks at me, that raised, scarred brow making my pulse spike.
I want to trace that scar with my finger, then kiss it.
Harlowe walks past me straight into his arms. “Rylan, stop scaring my new boss.”
Rylan is her brother, but I remember she said he goes by Kodiak, his road name, which is fitting. He is a bear, with his massive muscles and dark looks.
Instead of embarrassing myself because I’m so flustered by him and unable to speak, I turn and walk to the counter.
I can feel his eyes on my body. The fine hairs on the back of my neck rise.
I can’t stop the sway of my hips if I wanted to.
The heels make it worse, but I want him to know I’m a woman and interested.
I shouldn’t be, but something about him makes me want to try.
“What’s good around here?” he asks Harlowe, who immediately starts telling him about some of our pastries and all my breads.
My shop is unique to the area. It’s not like one of the chain bread stores or the typical coffee shops. I offer French breads, desserts, pastries, coffee, and tea. Everything is sold by the loaf or by the slice. There is a small dine-in area for those who want to hang around.
“You need to try the gougères,” she tells him. “Marnie specializes in them.”
I don’t correct her. I make a better Croque Madame or Croque Monsieur.
He follows her to the counter, and I set Oly down in the highchair I keep behind it.
“Tell me about these gougères,” he says, his deep voice pronouncing the word perfectly.
I’m in my element now and can easily talk about my baking. “Gougères are light and airy French cheese puffs. They have a crispy crust with a cheesy center. I can get you a café or an Americano if you prefer.” My hip cocks to the side as I talk to him.
His chuckle is deep and rich. Instead of talking to me directly, he leans toward Oly and makes himself appear smaller. “Okay, little beauté, what do you prefer? What’s your favorite thing to eat here?”
She smiles at him, her little dimples popping out. “Momma makes best bread and cheese samich,” she tells him.
“A bread and cheese sandwich? Who told you that? Your daddy?”
Olympia shakes her head. “No daddy. Just my momma make the best croc girly.”
“Oh, a Croque Madame?” he asks, glancing up at me from the corner of his eye while keeping his focus on Oly. “I’d try one of those, but I don’t think they’re on the menu right now. What do you think of these cheese puffs?”
“Them good. Momma make good shoes too.”
This time, he looks at me with his eyebrow raised. I’m completely entranced by the fact he’s talking to my little girl and she’s no longer afraid of him. I also like that he speaks to her in French. I’ve been working on teaching her French because of her father, and she knows sign language as well.
“Shoes?” he questions me with a shocked expression on his face.
I chuckle and cover my mouth because my laugh is awful, or so I’ve been told. “She means choux pastry.”
“Ah, now I got it. I’ll take an order of the gougères. Also, a loaf of brioche and a pain de campagne.” He doesn’t even glance at the display case, like he already knows I have them.
Harlowe rushes to the back to get him the loaves he requested, and I bag an order of four gougères.
“These are good with fig jam or on a charcuterie board.”
He stands to his full height and looks down at me. “Sugar, I’m going to eat them all myself. I’m not sharing anything you’ve made with anyone, unless you want to share them with me.”
Heat rushes to my face, and I drop my head so he can’t see the blush spreading across my cheeks.
Kodiak
The beauty before me is so shy it’s hard to believe she’s a mother to the sweet child. I could eat her up and enjoy every second of it. The fact that she doesn’t have a man to protect them makes something primal roar inside my head.
Some of my men already think I’m a beast. When I lose control, I don’t always remember what I’m doing. I tear up everything around me.
“I don’t date,” she says softly, her husky voice making my cock jump behind my fly, wanting to hear her talk dirty to me like that.
With my sister out of the room, I can’t help myself and flirt with her.
I lean across the counter. “Baby, it’s not a date when I’m eating you.
Oops, I mean with you.” Crimson blooms across her pale skin again, and I want to see how far down it goes.
Slowly, I reach out and wipe a dusting of powdered sugar from her neck, then suck it off my finger.
“If your treats taste this good, I’m going to be addicted. ”
She steps back, but I like that she didn’t flinch at my touch.
“Hey, Marnie, is Harley here?” a voice says from behind me.
I turn to see a pissant wannabe buff guy standing there. He’s not even six feet, and I look down at him as he stares at Marnie’s chest instead of her eyes while he talks.
“Hey, fucker, eyes on her face,” I snap.
He steps back, shocked that I would defend Marnie.
“I’ve known Marnie since she moved here and got this place set up. I met Harley earlier this week. Who are you?” He tries to puff out his chest, and I’m already thinking I’ll have Vortex, my IT guy, keep an eye on him. There’s something off about this guy.