Notorious (NeXt Book 1)

by K. M. Scott

  NOTORIOUS

  K.M. Scott

  Contents

  Notorious Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  About the Author

  Books by K.M. Scott:

  Books by K.M. Scott writing as Gabrielle Bisset:

  Notorious

  Cade March loves his life. Free to do as he likes and wealthy enough to afford whatever his heart desires, he’s all about having fun.

  As the only son of Stefan March, he’s the spitting image of his father in every way.

  And that’s the problem. At least for everyone else.

  Hailey Canton lives a very different life. Still recovering from a betrayal that’s left her shaken and no longer believing in love, she only has the desserts she makes for her parents’ small restaurant to make her feel like she can do anything.

  The cakes and cookies she lovingly creates are works of art, but to her, they’re simply a lifeline so she doesn’t give up.

  What happens when the very thing she’s feared comes into her life in the form of a gorgeous man with no idea that life has any limits and who fears nothing?

  Publisher's Note: Notorious is the first book in Cade and Hailey's duet. This book ends on a cliffhanger. Their story concludes in Infamous.

  Notorious is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  2021 Copper Key Media LLC

  Copyright © 2021 Copper Key Media LLC

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  Published in the United States

  ISBN: 978-1-7346645-7-7

  Chapter One

  Cade

  “This is the life. You know that?” I say as I weave in between cars on my way to nowhere in particular.

  It’s a gorgeous spring day that would be a crime to waste inside, so Alex and I are riding around listening to music and enjoying the freedom that comes from being single guys beholden to not a damn soul.

  When I glance to my right, I see him nod his head and lean back in the passenger seat of my Jag. Closing his eyes, he says, “It’s days like this that make going to work hard as fuck sometimes. Thank God I don’t have to go in today. The last thing I want to do is spend an eight hour stretch slaving in that kitchen.”

  “I don’t know how you do it. Really, I don’t. If I had to work with my father and uncle day in and day out, I’d kill someone. I’d turn into one of those guys who goes on a rampage and then when the cops and the news talk to the neighbors, they always say things like, ‘He was a quiet guy. Never bothered anyone. I can’t believe he took a meat cleaver and hacked up an entire kitchen staff and both the owners of such a fine restaurant. I just can’t.’”

  Alex laughs at my imitation of every next-door neighbor ever seen on the news talking about some homicidal maniac who lived next to them. “Yeah, and they always have that look on their faces like they really can’t believe that was the guy who lived in the blue house across the street. ‘He looked so nice. I swear I never knew.’”

  I take the corner hard onto a side street and chuckle. “They just can’t believe their dumb luck that the crazy guy who snapped didn’t come over and kill them that time they let him borrow the weed whacker.”

  “My favorite is when they say things like, ‘It’s such a shame. He comes from such a good family. I know his mother. She’s a very nice lady.’ As if that’s why he’s a mass murderer. Like it’s in the genes.”

  That thought rolls around my head for a minute. Is there some DNA marker for mass murderer? I don’t think so. Not that I’ve ever heard of, but maybe. Anything’s possible.

  If that’s the base, though, the whole lot of us in my family would be screwed. My mind wanders to the idea of seven mass murderers. That would be something. A whole family of killers.

  Although I can’t imagine Ava even killing a fly, and Annalea doesn’t seem to have the killer instinct in her either. Wilder’s definitely got it. That’s for sure. But he’s not blood, even if he is part of the family.

  “Hey! Pull over into that restaurant,” Alex says, ripping me from my thoughts about the March and Jackson family’s potential as killers.

  “What?”

  I look around and don’t see anywhere we’d want to go. Just some diner that makes me think I can taste the grease by just looking at the place. He can’t want to go there. Alex is a chef, for God’s sake. There’s no way he wants to eat at this greasy spoon.

  Pointing at the very building I’m sure he can’t want to go to, he repeats himself. “Pull over! Let’s stop in that restaurant.”

  He looks like he’s going to practically jump out of the car while it’s still moving he’s so eager to get to this diner. What the hell did I miss?

  “Relax. It’s not like the place is going to disappear before I get the car parked. Jesus. You’d swear this is some five star restaurant. It’s a diner. I would have thought you hated these kinds of places.”

  I look up at the sign as I pull into the parking lot. Comfort Food. Catchy name for a dive. They probably have things like meatloaf and grilled cheese sandwiches on the menu. Not exactly what I ever pegged Alex being into.

  When I stop the car and kill the engine, I look over to see him flinging the door open. “Wait! Why are we here? You have a craving for some fried food or something?”

  He shrugs like I’m making a big deal out of nothing. “Not really, but don’t worry. It’ll be fine. This place has great desserts.”

  Before I can ask when he became such a big dessert fan, he jumps out of the car and slams the door. Great desserts, huh? By the looks of the building, I’d be surprised. Gunmetal grey block walls with silver trim around the windows makes me wonder if he’s gotten this place mistaken with somewhere else.

  I walk toward the entrance and mumble, “You’d think at somewhere called Comfort Food the outside wouldn’t look like I was walking into some dive bar off a dusty highway. Doesn’t feel very comforting to me.”

  By the time I find him, he’s all settled into a booth complete with silver seats that have a distinct pleather vibe to them. It’s not pleather, though. By the way the seat squeaks as I slide into the booth, I know it’s vinyl.

  “Is this place going for some retro vibe or something? I feel like there should be a jukebox somewhere around here. You know the kind with actual little records in them. Forty-fives I think is what they were called.”

  Alex taps his knuckles on the table. “Check it out. Real, honest to goodness Formica! Definitely retro. I love it.”

  I arch one eyebrow and study him suspiciously, sure someone has stolen my best friend and replaced him with this hipster sitting across from me admiring the white Formica table with silver and gold designs that look like the nuclear symbol. He actually traces the design with his fingertip, like he’s enchanted by it.

  “Remember in fifth grade when the teacher told us all ab
out fallout shelters. That’s what that looks like. Not a good omen for a food place. Radiation poisoning on the menu?” I joke.

  He looks up at me and scowls. “It’s not a nuclear symbol. I think it’s got more of a Star Trek vibe with the two swooshes, one silver and one gold.”

  Sitting back against the silver vinyl behind me, I shake my head. “You’re sort of freaking me out here, Alex. I was worried that maybe being a serial killer runs in our family, but now I’m more worried about whatever you’re exhibiting at this moment.”

  Alex rolls his eyes and goes back to studying the oh-so-interesting ancient table. “Do you remember that server I was seeing a while back? She was into all that fifties stuff big time, so I got to know a little about it. That’s all.”

  My mind wanders back to which girlfriend of his he could be talking about, but there have been a lot, so I can’t be blamed for not recalling this particular one. “Which one? The girl who had the Minnie Mouse obsession and loved to wear those big bows in her hair? That, by the way, was bizarre. If you hadn’t told me she was a freak in bed, I would have thought you lost your mind going out with her in public.”

  His dark eyebrows come in toward his nose as he makes that pissed off look he gives me any time he’s really angry at something I’ve said. “No, I don’t mean Misty, asshole. And she wasn’t that bad with those bows. She just liked dressing up sometimes. You didn’t like her because of her friend.”

  Ugh. That I do remember.

  Shaking my head, I try to get rid of the image of her best friend Sandi and her ruby red lips plastered with lipstick. “Damn. How did I let you talk me into going out with her that time? You still owe me for that, and since you made me remember her, you owe me twice. Dude, that was a nightmare.”

  “Well, you brought up Misty. That’s on you, not me. But I wasn’t talking about her. I was talking about Tori. You remember. She had black hair and she wore it in that way that pin-up models from the fifties did.”

  I vaguely have a sense of who he’s talking about, but because I can’t get Sandi and that horrible lipstick that tasted like plastic when I kissed her out of my mind, I don’t think I can focus on anything now. Alex’s taste in women runs the gamut from wild to utterly bizarre. It’s so odd too because he doesn’t look like he’d go for anyone other than hot women, but he’s got a thing for the strange ones.

  “She’s not really registering with me at the moment, but it’s fine. I’m glad she expanded your horizons regarding the fifties diner style.”

  “Just open your mind, okay? The pastry chef here makes the most phenomenal desserts. My father and Kane tried to woo her to come work at CK a few months ago, but she wouldn’t even take their calls.”

  Looking around at the diner and wondering why we don’t even have menus yet since there are no more than two other booths filled with customers, I doubt this place even has a pastry chef. That’s probably just Alex throwing around his chef lingo again. Nobody’s just a cook with him. Everybody’s some kind of chef. Pastry chef. Sous chef. Executive chef. The person making desserts here is probably just some schlub who knows how to slap on some frosting on a cake.

  A server finally makes her way over to our table a minute later. All smiles and very pretty, she looks about seventeen, if that. When she opens her mouth and I see braces, I think I might have given her too many years with my first guess.

  “Hi, welcome to Comfort Food! I’m Hannah,” she says with such enthusiasm that I question if she’s going to leap over the table and sit down with us.

  “It’s great to have you here. Here are menus, and let’s get you started on some drinks.”

  My cousin looks up at her like he can’t open his eyes wide enough and says, “I’ll have a Coke, Hannah.”

  “Make that two,” I mumble as I let my gaze slide over the plastic coated menu.

  “Got it! Two Cokes. I’ll be right back, but I wanted to mention that our sandwich of the day is a grilled cheese with tomato and herb mayonnaise. Be right back!”

  I lift my eyes from the menu to watch her ass in her too-tight shorts as she walks away. Interesting place. Diner décor with a touch of Hooters.

  “That grilled cheese sounds good,” Alex says, sounding a little too peppy for my taste.

  “Is that girl rubbing off on you? She was only here for a minute, at most, and now you sound as up as her. Or is it the shorts and white T-shirt that’s got you all excited?” I ask, still reading the menu of more fried and greasy foods than I’ve ever seen in my life.

  He doesn’t answer, but I know him well enough after all these years, so I lift my head and see him glaring across the table at me. “You know what your problem is? You’re a snob, Cade. Comes from going to that school up north.”

  His insult misses its mark entirely, especially coming from him. “You’re the guy who calls everyone who owns a goddamned spatula a chef, and you work in a five star restaurant, for God’s sake. You went to school for culinary arts, and I’m a snob?”

  That little bit of truth stops him cold, so he twists his face into a sneer and says, “Just give this place a chance. You never know. It could be great.”

  As much as busting my best friend’s balls is something I enjoy, I don’t say anything back to him. After another quick glance at the menu, I look around for any sign of our server and those drinks she promised to bring right back. She’s nowhere to be found, but in the window of one of doors leading to the kitchen, I spy a woman staring out at our table. I only see her for a split second before she disappears.

  Too bad. I was hoping to get her attention so maybe she could send over Hannah.

  Chapter Two

  Cade

  By the time Hannah finally brings out my hamburger and fries and Alex’s turkey club sandwich with fries, I’ve caught the person in the kitchen staring out at us three times. She disappears every time she realizes I see her, and as much as I doubt anything as exciting as a mystery is occurring at Comfort Food, I can’t help but wonder why she keeps looking out at us.

  Then it dawns on me. She knows Alex. She probably worked with him at the restaurant at some point, and now she’s working here. Maybe she’s embarrassed since this place is nothing compared to CK, or maybe she thinks it might be him but she isn’t sure.

  So much for the latest episode of Diner Mystery Theater.

  Alex points at the last bite of my hamburger left on my plate and nods. “See? I told you this would be good. Tell me you didn’t love that burger.”

  As much as I hate to admit it, I loved the burger. In fact, I loved the fries too. I don’t want to give him a reason to gloat, though, so I merely shrug. “It’s a decent burger. Jeez, Alex. You sound like you’re trying to sell this place. I’m not in the market for a diner, thank you.”

  He finishes his club sandwich and sits back, shaking his head. “I’m not trying to sell anything. I did hear the desserts are the best in the area, though, so we have to try them.”

  “Quite the hard on for cupcakes, huh? You need to go out more, man. You’re starting to turn into some deranged version of that celebrity chef dude I watched the other night.”

  “Whatever. Don’t try the desserts. Be a grumpy guy who refuses to enjoy anything,” he grumbles under his breath.

  Times like this show how different the two of us are. Alex is all about the senses. He gets off on how good things taste or feel. The chef in him talks about how things are presented, like that’s a big deal.

  I, on the other hand, am not as much a hedonist as he is. Oh sure, I indulge in almost anything that makes me feel good, but he takes it to places I never would.

  Like desserts.

  I can’t remember the last time I had a dessert. Maybe my grandmother’s birthday party last year? She had a cake, which Alex talked about like it was the goddamned Taj Mahal of food, so maybe then?

  But he’s my best friend and practically my brother, so I accept how he is. Born three months after me, we basically grew up together. For the past twenty-thre
e years, other than my time in college, we hung out every day. I’m closer to him than anyone else in the world.

  “I guess I could try something. Maybe they have some kind of doughnut I’d like.”

  Alex shakes his head and laughs. “You give me a hard time about stopping here because it’s a diner, but you want a doughnut?”

  “Don’t bash the doughnut. It’s the breakfast of champions.”

  “The person who makes the desserts is an artist. I don’t think she makes doughnuts.”

  Now it’s my time to do an eye roll. “An arteest?” I say, making sure he understands how utterly ridiculous I think he sounds about all of this.

  Before he can give me a hard time about not taking this whole pastry chef and their desserts seriously enough, a man stops at our table. I look up to see him smiling as he notices our empty plates.

  He points at them and says, “I hope this means you enjoyed your meals.”

  Quickly, Alex shoots me a nasty glance and smiles back at the man. “They were great. Best club sandwich I’ve had in a while.”

  As they talk about the turkey and something about the lettuce tasting some particular way, I glance past the man and see the woman in the window again. For the first time, I smile. She doesn’t smile back, and after looking panicked that I noticed her, she disappears once more.

  Strange.

  “I’m dying to see what desserts you have today, Robert. I’ve heard great things about them,” Alex says, practically gushing about these fucking desserts again.