Frosting and Flames (Aurora Bakery #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

RACHEL

“ O kay, be honest—too slutty?”

I nearly choke on my own spit as Jae slides back the dressing room curtain.

Her sleek emerald gown has double thigh slits that reach to her hips, showcasing her toned legs.

It wouldn’t be so startling if the dress didn’t also have a deep enough vee at the bodice to make wearing a bra impossible, too.

“You know other people can hear you, right?” I ask, glancing around. The boutique isn’t crowded, but there are a few women browsing the racks within earshot. “And see you.”

She sticks her head out beyond the privacy curtain. “Should I ask them, too?”

“No, Jesus.” I wrestle her back into the fitting room and follow her, closing the curtain behind us. “If you move the wrong way, everyone will see your…” I motion to her crotch area.

She looks down and moves a leg forward, the fabric shifting to reveal more than she bargained for. “Oh, you’re right. That’s a shame.”

She turns toward the mirror, striking an elegant pose, and somehow manages to look gorgeous in this awful fluorescent lighting, her pin-straight black hair shiny and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass.

“I’m surprised they have this here,” she says, fluffing the skirt of the dress out around her. “I thought small towns were supposed to be wholesome.”

I roll my eyes, not caring if she sees me in the mirror.

“You’ve been watching too many Hallmark movies.

” Aurora isn’t that small, even if she claims her ridiculously-sized high school had the same number of students as our total population…

Okay, maybe it is kind of small. “Why’d you even pick this to try on? ”

She shrugs, still studying her reflection. “It didn’t seem so bad on the hanger. Plus, it’s on clearance.”

“Probably because no one will buy it,” I mutter.

“It’s an anniversary dinner,” she continues, as if I said nothing. “I’ll be seated ninety percent of the time, so who’s even going to see the slits?”

“They’ll see your cleavage.”

She waves a hand, dismissing my comment. “I’m an A-cup. There’s barely anything to see.”

I sigh. When Jae gets an idea in her head, it’s usually an exercise in futility trying to talk her out of it. “You do you.”

I exit the fitting room, and when she opens the curtain again, this time she’s in a more fine dining-appropriate dress, in navy satin. She looks phenomenal, as usual. I don’t know why she even asked me to go shopping with her. My opinion is always that everything looks good.

“Why don’t you try something on, too?” she asks, holding out a sparkly minidress to me. “We could go out to a bar. I’ll be your wingwoman and find you a good guy.”

I check the tag, not that I would ever wear something so flashy. That sneak. It’s my size.

“We’re here to get a dress for your anniversary dinner with Josh. You know, your husband you’ve been happily married to for a year? Remember him? Not to find dresses for clubbing—or whatever it is you want me to do.”

She huffs in exasperation. “You need to get out of the house. You’re becoming a hermit.”

I turn my back to her, crossing my arms over my chest. “I get out of the house plenty. See, I’m out right now.”

“Because I dragged you here. And the only other place you go is work. Work doesn’t count as getting out of the house.”

I chew my bottom lip. Damn it. She’s got me there.

Her hand rests gently on my shoulder. “Even if you see Kyle—”

“I’m not talking about him.”

One of the women across the boutique looks over at me, probably because of my harsh tone. Crap. I think that was my middle school music teacher.

I turn back around, squeezing my eyes shut. “I don’t care if I run into Kyle,” I mumble, keeping my voice low. “Or… whatever her name is.”

Jae doesn’t call me on my fib. I know exactly what her name is. Autumn. A stupid season and a stupid name.

“Rachel…”

I can’t stand the pity in her voice, so I redirect the conversation. “Besides, you know I don’t go to bars or clubs or whatever. Twenty-seven is too old to be doing that, anyway.”

She gasps theatrically. “We are in the prime of our lives. And normal people go do those things. Not everyone is a workaholic obsessed with bakeries.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I bite back my reply.

I’m not obsessed with my family’s bakery.

But if I don’t make sure everything gets done, who else is going to?

My sisters? Mom and Dad left me in charge of the business while they take their world cruise, and for good reason.

The place would burn down without me there to run it.

And once was bad enough.

My phone rings and I fish it out of my purse, sighing when I see it’s Sydney. Speak of the devil.

“Hey, what are you up to?” she asks when I answer.

“I’m at the boutique with Jae.”

“Okay, cool.” I swear there’s relief in my sister’s voice. My suspicion alarm internally blares.

“Why do you want to know?”

“No reason,” she says, way too quickly to be believable. “Can’t a girl call her sister?”

We spend the large majority of our time together at the bakery. She’s probably sick of me.

“Aren’t you working?” I ask, looking at my watch. Not that I need to check it. I know exactly when the bakery’s hours are.

“Yes, of course. Oh, a customer came in. Have to go.”

The line goes dead and I hold my cell away from my ear, staring at it uneasily. She should be prepping stuff for tomorrow in the back, not up front with customers. Where’s Hailey?

“I’d ask who that was,” Jae says, “but fifty bucks says it was either Sydney or Hailey.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, my mind turning over the possibilities. “I need to stop by the bakery.”

“Wait, seriously? It’s your one day off. You can’t go a day without working?”

It’s not that I want to. It’s… I don’t know. “I have a bad feeling,” I tell her. Sydney never calls to chat. If anything, she would text, not call.

“Obsessed,” she remarks as I put my phone away. “At least tell me which dress to get.”

“You know you look amazing in all of them. But the one you’re wearing is especially great. Josh will love it.”

She turns back toward the mirror, sliding her palms over the silk. “I do look good, don’t I? Okay, you convinced me.” Her gaze meets mine in the mirror. “I’ll come to the bakery after I buy this. Don’t think you’re weaseling your way out of hanging out with me.”

I can’t help the grin that touches my lips. “I wouldn’t dream of it. See you soon.”

As much as she drives me crazy, I’m glad she moved here to Aurora from Philadelphia with her husband earlier this year. They’re wanting to start a family soon, and liked the idea of settling in a smaller town to raise kids, rather than the hustle and bustle of our college city.

I get in my car and take a moment to center myself, half-wondering if I’m taking Sydney’s weird call too seriously. It can’t hurt to check it out, at least.

It only takes five minutes to drive to Aurora Bakery, and as I find an open spot on the street to park, I wipe my palms on my jeans, a sense of foreboding filling me. Nothing appears amiss, but I can’t shake this feeling.

My first clue that something’s wrong is when I tug on the front door and nearly pull my shoulder out of my socket, finding it locked. Focusing on the door, I register that the open sign is turned to closed. Why the hell is the bakery closed in the middle of the day?

I pull out my keys and unlock it, discovering it deserted inside. Did Sydney and Hailey decide to play hooky for the day or something? No, there are voices coming from the back.

I round the counter and cautiously push open the double doors to the back work area, pulling up short at the sight of a man wedged halfway behind one of the industrial ovens, his back to me.

I can’t tell who it is, only that he has dark hair and broad shoulders, with the kind of back that tapers down to a V.

As he shifts, a tattoo peeks out from one of his shirt sleeves, intricately wrapped around a thick bicep. Wait, isn’t that…

“Doesn’t look like anything wrong with the power supply,” he says, voice muffled. “No charred wires or burned fuses, at least. Did the breakers trip or was there a surge—”

He stops mid-sentence as he comes out from behind the oven and turns, making eye contact with me. His mouth shuts, nostrils flaring.

It’s Nick Henderson. Why is Nick of all people in my bakery?

“What’s going on?” I ask through dry lips. I lick them, unconsciously, and his gaze drops to my mouth.

“Rachel!” Hailey exclaims, and it’s only then that my gaze breaks from Nick and my brain processes the rest of the scene.

There’s a fine layer of white powder over the oven and floor. Is it flour? No, it’s not the right consistency. Also on the floor is an overturned tray of cupcakes, pink frosting smeared on the tile.

My gaze travels up, eyes widening at the soot on the ceiling. Soot?

I inhale, a sharp, acrid odor in the air. What the hell happened here? Was there… No, they didn’t seriously set fire to the place, did they?

“I thought you were shopping,” Sydney says, glancing around shiftily. Beside her, Hailey looks guilty as hell.

“You were acting suspicious on the phone,” I choke out, whatever’s in the air getting in my lungs. I cough into my elbow. “Was there a…” I trail off, unable to say the word.

Especially with Nick here.

“It was small,” Sydney rushes to explain, only half-answering my question. “So small you don’t even need to worry about it. Go enjoy your day off.”

I stare at her incredulously. Not worry about it?

“It wasn’t their fault,” Nick says quietly. “My guess is something with the oven malfunctioned. I could inspect it for you.”

I focus on his Aurora Fire Department shirt rather than look at his face again. “I… No, that’s okay.” I don’t want him here longer than necessary. “You were the one who put out the…” I still can’t say the word out loud.

He nods, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Thank you,” I whisper, the words getting stuck in my throat.

“Of course.”