Epilogue
Juniper
I dusted a handful of flour across the table.
My shoulders ached from kneading a double batch of dough, but I wasn’t slowing down.
If anything, I worked harder, daring the new machine to keep up.
The convection oven I’d ordered hummed in the corner, throwing out a steady blast of heat and authority.
Fuck you very much to anyone who ever doubted I’d rebuild.
I’d hung my grandmother’s picture at the opening of the bakery in the kitchen above the oven, so every cinnamon roll was baked under her watch. The old recipe box sat on its shelf, battered and proud.
The bell over the front door dinged but I ignored it. There were still twenty croissants to shape. I’d worked too hard over the three months since Brett tried to take away my bakery to let anyone or anything break my stride.
Georgia showed up early, hungover as hell but loyal to the core.
She’d been the first one to show up, other than the club, when we started cleaning up the rubble to rebuild.
And, oh, my God, could Kiss of Death make things happen when they wanted.
It had taken longer to get the building inspected in a timely manner than it had to rebuild.
The second the fire marshal had released what was left of the building, Knuckles had contractors from all over the city descending on the place. My new bakery opened in record time.
Once the croissants were in the oven, I stepped into the main part of the store.
A man in a fire department polo entered as I exited the kitchen, taking in everything before giving me a nod.
Frank Danner ordered black coffee as he greeted me.
“Juniper,” he said. “It’s good to see you up and running again. ”
I poured the coffee and set the mugs on the counter. “It’s good to be back.”
Across the kitchen, Inferno hefted a fifty-pound bag of bread flour like it was nothing. He set it down beside me, sweat already starting under the fine gray at his temples. “You’re gonna run that oven ragged today,” he teased.
“Depends,” I shot back. “Can you haul another three sacks before you start bitching about your back, Grandpa?”
Grinning, he flexed, just to show off, then got to work hauling the next bag.
If you’d told me six months ago that the man I wanted most would end up loading flour and cleaning drains at sunrise, I’d have called you a liar.
Yet here we were, running this place side by side. My grandmother would be proud.
The whole place smelled like sugar and yeast, even though the paint on the walls was still fresh.
I wiped my hands on my apron, straightened my property vest I hated taking off even when I was working.
I loved what the thing represented and I loved the idea the whole club now had my back.
Lord knew I’d felt their protection almost from the beginning.
I went to the door, flipped the sign, and stood back as the first customers of my new world crowded in.
* * *
Later that night at Throttle, the smell of whiskey, stale cigarettes, and sex permeated the bar, a sharp contrast to my bakery.
The place was packed with members from different friendly clubs in Nashville.
Mike the bartender served pitchers of beer from the scarred oak bar, and somebody cranked up Skynyrd so loud my insides vibrated.
I wore Inferno’s property vest with even more pride at Throttle among his peers than I did at the bakery. Inferno couldn’t seem to get enough of looking at me in my property cut. I wasn’t sure I’d ever had anyone look at me so possessively or so clearly proud to have me with him.
There was a sheet cake so big it took up half the bar, welcoming Zero back from his lengthy hospital stay and rehab.
The first slice was already cut and ready for Zero, who came limping in the front door like he was returning from a war zone.
He wore his new cut proudly, the vest proclaiming him a full member of Kiss of Death MC.
He moved slowly but under his own power, without assistance.
I flagged him down and shoved the first wedge of cake into his hand.
“Congratulations, Zero,” I said, giving him a hug. “Good to see you back.”
He blinked down at me, then smiled. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Don’t call me ma’am, Zero. My name is Juniper.”
“You’ll call her ma’am,” Inferno said from the end of the bar. Everyone laughed.
Zero grinned at me. “Ma’am.” Then he walked off into the arms of an aggressive club girl.
I had to laugh as the first thing she did was unbutton his flannel to see the scar on his upper chest. Zero took full advantage, looking like he could barely get around.
Until he got the woman in his lap, then a huge smile split his face, and she laughed as she kissed him.
I made my way to Inferno with a piece of cake.
The pride in his eyes when he looked at me gave me a heady rush.
He had a beer in front of him and he moved his other hand to my thigh, just under the hem of my skirt, as I sat behind him.
The club roared and howled, tossing back shots, making as much noise as the jukebox.
“Shut up, you degenerates!” Darby yelled before hiccuping as she swayed slightly.
Somehow, everyone did hush up. Beer in her hand raised high, she slurred out a toast to me.
“Raise a glass for Juniper. She didn’t just keep her damn head when most people would have burned the fuck down, she also makes the best sourdough a bitch could ask for.
” It made no sense, but everyone cheered.
It should have ended there, but Darby never did know when to shut up and didn’t care that she didn’t know.
“She also,” Darby went on, “fucks like she’s got something to prove and bakes with her own motherfucking hands, which means if you come at her, you’re gonna get your face kicked in and a Goddamn croissant down your throat. ”
I sprayed beer out my nose, laughing. Inferno’s hand tightened on my thigh, but he laughed right along with me. Darby knocked back her shot and dropped off the chair, straight into Sully’s arms.
Turning my head, I smiled at Inferno. When he pulled out a palm-sized box from his jeans pocket, he flipped it open and held up a silver flame charm on a delicate chain.
He didn’t say anything. Just fastened it around my throat and looked at me like there was nothing and no one else in the world. I turned and threw my arms around him, kissing him. The charm warmed against the hollow of my throat and I touched it reflexively.
The first time I’d kissed him, it was defiance. A fuck-you to Brett and the whole Goddamned city. I kissed him now because he was mine, and I wanted the whole of Nashville to know it.
Someone whistled and Darby yelled, “Get a room!”
Inferno broke off the kiss, bit my lower lip, and leaned in.
“I love you, baby,” he murmured. The words were so low I barely heard them over the noise.
Last call was shouted by Mike somewhere down the line, and the whole club roared again.
Inferno laced his fingers through mine and dragged me off my stool.
I grabbed another piece of cake for the road, one hand scooping a generous mouthful before shoving the plate at Darby on the way out.
We didn’t look back. Inferno’s bike sat waiting at the curb, chrome all polished up special for the night. We walked out together, climbed on his bike, and rode off into the night, the moon bathing the city like a silvery neon sign.