Chapter 13 Violet
VIOLET
Six weeks have passed since I started this crazy experiment of writing about Cedar Ridge, and I've screwed up my own exit strategy.
Well, that's not entirely true. The screwing up started two weeks ago in Garrick's kitchen, when I confronted him about his mood and he kissed me. Really kissed me. The kind of kiss that makes you forget your own name and remember sensations you didn’t know existed.
Turns out the grumpy alpha baker is a gentle giant when it comes to certain things. Gentle hands. Gentle mouth. The way he touched me, tasted me, made me feel things I didn’t think I was ready to feel again.
And for the past two weeks, it’s been...
incredible. Stolen kisses in the early morning before the bakery opens.
His hand finding mine under the counter when no one’s looking.
The way his scent wraps around me when he leans in to murmur something only I can hear.
Secret smiles. Lingering touches. The kind of romance I thought I’d never have again.
But it’s not just Garrick.
Somewhere along the way, I started falling for all of them. Liam with his quiet strength and the way he watches me like I’m the only person in the room. Xaden with that sharp grin and teasing mouth that shouldn’t make me feel the way it does; but God, it does.
It’s not just about kisses or touches. It’s the way each of them makes my body feel. Alive. Wanted. Safe. Like maybe, just maybe, I don’t have to keep running anymore.
Until this morning.
Now I'm sitting in my usual corner booth at Rise & Shine, laptop open, trying to focus on work while he's behind the counter pretending I don't exist.
Not pretending we didn't kiss. Not pretending yesterday didn't happen.
Pretending I don't exist at all.
That's what's killing me. Because when I came downstairs this morning, expecting his usual soft "morning, sweetheart" and maybe a stolen kiss before customers arrived, I got nothing.
A grunt. A cinnamon roll placed in front of me without eye contact.
Cold shoulder so brutal it made me physically flinch.
Like the past two weeks never happened. Like his hands weren't on my body, his mouth wasn't everywhere, like I didn't fall apart under his touch on that prep table and again in his bed upstairs and once more against the walk-in freezer door when we thought we had five minutes alone.
I steal a glance at him now. He's wiping down the counter with aggressive precision, jaw clenched, shoulders tight. His scent is sharp this morning, cinnamon and cardamom with bitter notes of frustration that make my omega instincts uneasy.
What changed? What did I do wrong?
Because yesterday afternoon, he had me pressed against the pantry wall, kissing me like I was air and he was drowning. Last night, he brought dinner up to my apartment and we ate on my couch, his arm around me, talking about everything and nothing.
This morning? Ice.
The morning rush swirls around me, busier and louder than usual. Packed with tourists and strangers who gawk at everything like it's some quaint small-town experience. Like a tourist trap. Exactly what I've turned this place into with one viral article.
Is that it? Is he angry about the article?
But he's known about the article's success for five days. He was fine yesterday. Better than fine. He was... us.
"Excuse me," a woman in expensive hiking gear approaches my table, phone in hand. "Are you the writer who wrote about this place?"
I force my attention away from Garrick. "That's me. Violet Matthews."
"Oh my God, I have to tell you, your piece about this bakery was absolutely beautiful. The way you described the sourdough process, the connection between craft and community..." She gushes. "It made me drive three hours to try these famous cinnamon rolls."
Warm pride spreads through my chest, even as I catch Garrick's scent spiking with irritation behind the counter. Sharp. Bitter. Aimed at me.
"Thank you. That means a lot."
"And the discount code worked perfectly! Twenty percent off was such a nice touch."
Twenty percent. I thought I put ten. Fuck.
My smile falters as I risk a glance at Garrick. His jaw is clenched so tight I'm surprised his teeth don't crack. A muscle ticks near his ear.
But he knew about the discount mistake days ago. He laughed about it. Called me his "chaotic marketing genius" and kissed me until I forgot why I was apologizing.
So why is he so angry now?
"I'm so glad you enjoyed your visit." I manage.
The woman heads back to her table, probably to Instagram her breakfast with a #rusticvibes caption.
Five days ago, the article went live on a popular Colorado lifestyle blog. The response has been incredible. The bakery's been consistently busy since Tuesday.
And for five days, Garrick seemed okay with it. Stressed, yes. Working harder, absolutely. But he'd pull me aside between rushes, steal a kiss, tell me it was worth it because I was worth it.
Until this morning.
What the hell changed overnight?
The bell above the door jingles again. More tourists filter in, all matching flannels and open-mouthed awe. They snap photos of everything.
"What can I get you?" Garrick asks in a neutral tone, despite the tension radiating from his large frame.
I watch him work, remembering how those hands felt on my skin yesterday. How his scent wrapped around me until I couldn't breathe. How he looked at me like I was something precious.
This morning he won't even meet my eyes.
"I want the sourdough bread mentioned in a Tok," one tourist says. "Something about a three-day fermentation process that creates 'layers of complexity that speak to both tradition and innovation'?"
Garrick's eye twitches at the description. But he answers politely, slices the bread with controlled precision instead of the violent force from earlier.
He's not angry at the customers. Just at me.
I turn back to my laptop, but I can't focus. My phone has been buzzing nonstop with emails and messages. Three more businesses want features. A coffee shop in Millfield wants to capitalize on the tourism uptick.
For the first time in months, I'm successful and productive. I'm earning real money.
But Garrick won't look at me.
A text from Xaden appears: Ready to make me famous too? The restaurant could use some of the magic you worked on Garrick's place. When can we talk?
Magic. Right. Whatever magic I had with Garrick apparently expired overnight.
I'm drafting a reply when Liam's clean cotton and chamomile scent threads through the bakery. He's happy about something, pushing through the crowd with easy grace until his amber eyes land on me.
The smile spreading across his face is radiant.
"Violet!" He weaves between tables. "I have news!"
Before I can ask, he's reached my booth and I'm standing up, caught in his enthusiasm. His scent wraps around me like a warm hug.
Without thinking, I lean up and press a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting. The same way I've been greeting Liam for weeks now. Casual. Friendly.
The moment my lips touch his skin, everything shifts.
From behind the counter, a sharp spike of cinnamon and cardamom. Garrick's scent goes nuclear with something that smells suspiciously like jealousy.
I pull back from Liam, confused. Garrick gets to give me the cold shoulder all morning, but I can't greet Liam the way I always do?
"What's going on?" I ask Liam, settling back into the booth while hyperaware of Garrick's sudden attention burning into my back.
Now he notices me. Now he cares.
Liam slides into the seat across from me. "Your car. Tom called. Dolly's repairs are paid in full and she's ready to go."
My brain stutters. “Paid in full? Dolly's fixed?"
“We took care of it, don’t worry about it,” he says casually. “New radiator, oil change, tune-up, the works. She's running better than she has in years."
I can leave. Continue to Texas, to whatever uncertain future awaits.
Except I don't want to leave.
I don't want to leave Garrick, even though he spent this morning treating me like a stranger. Even though something changed overnight and he won't tell me what.
"That's..." I start, then stop. "I've got so much work here. Three more businesses want features, plus Xaden's restaurant. I'm finally making real money."
True. But also an excuse to avoid admitting I've fallen for a grumpy alpha baker who's suddenly decided I don't exist.
"So business is booming?" Liam's smile brightens.
"Beyond expectations." I show him my phone. "Enough work for months."
"That's incredible, Violet. You should be proud."
"I couldn't have done it without you. The idea, the support. You made this possible."
"The talent and work? That's all you."
The sincerity makes my chest tight. I reach across the table to squeeze his hand. "Thank you. For everything."
Then a sharp crash.
I pull my hand back. Garrick glares at a metal tray on the floor, surrounded by ruined rolls. The air around him crackles with barely contained rage.
Definitely not about the rolls.
"Everything okay?" I call out, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
He grunts and slams the rolls into trash without looking at me.
My chest tightens. Yesterday he couldn't stop touching me. This morning I'm invisible. Now I hold Liam's hand for two seconds and suddenly I exist again?
"He's been like this all morning," I whisper to Liam. "Cold. Distant. Like I did something wrong but won't tell me what."
"Like what?" Liam asks carefully.
"Like everything was perfect yesterday and then overnight he decided to hate me." The frustration comes out sharp. "I don't understand what changed."
Liam's expression shifts to something knowing. Something almost sympathetic. "How busy has it been?"
"Steadily packed since Tuesday. Maybe thirty percent more customers." I pull up my notes. "But that's not new. It's been five days. Why is he suddenly angry about it now?"
"Maybe it's not about the business." Liam's watching Garrick with an odd expression.
"Then what? Because yesterday we were..." I stop, not sure how much Liam knows about Garrick and me. "We were fine. Better than fine. And this morning he won't even look at me."
"Have you tried talking to him about it?"
I snort. "He won't talk to me. This morning I tried to say good morning and he grunted and walked away."
"He's not great with change."
"What changed? The tourists have been here all week. The article went live five days ago. Everything's been the same except his sudden decision to treat me like I have the plague."
"Maybe," Liam says slowly, "something scared him. Sometimes when things get real, when feelings get complicated, Garrick's first instinct is to pull back."
I stare at him. "You think he's scared?"
"I think he's probably terrified. Of what he's feeling. Of how fast it happened. Of what it means."
"So his solution is to pretend I don't exist?"
"His solution is usually to push people away before they can hurt him." Liam's voice is gentle. "It's not right. But it's what he does."
I glance at Garrick again. The tension in his shoulders. The way he's methodically working through orders with grim determination.
If Liam's right, if this isn't about the business or the tourists or anything I actually did wrong...
If he's just scared of what's happening between us...
Then I need to talk to him. Make him tell me what changed. What spooked him overnight.
Because I'm not running away from this. Not when two weeks ago he made me feel things I didn't think I could feel again.
Not when yesterday he held me like I was precious and today he's treating me like a mistake.
"You should talk to him," Liam says quietly.
"He's busy."
"He's hiding."
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes. Work piling up. Success I should be celebrating.
Instead I'm watching a man who kissed me senseless yesterday pretend I'm invisible today.
When the lunch rush finally dies down, I close my laptop. I need answers. Need to know what changed between last night and this morning.
Need to know if the past two weeks meant anything to him at all.
Because leaving would mean giving up on something that feels like home.
Something that includes a grumpy alpha baker who made me believe in second chances and is now taking it all back without explanation.
And I'm not leaving without a fight.
Even if I'm not nearly as smart as I thought I was for falling for him in the first place.