Cupcake (The Fluffy Cupcake Book 1)

by Katie Mettner

  Cupcake

  The Fluffy Cupcake Book One

  Katie Mettner

  Copyright 2020 Katie Mettner

  All rights reserved for this book its content, including the cover art by Forward Authority Design. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the publisher. The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Names, characters, and plots are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Tart

  About the Author

  Other Books by Katie Mettner

  Dedication

  For the real Hay-Hay.

  Thanks for being the best taste-tester in the county.

  One

  Ask anyone in Lake Pendle, Minnesota, where to find the best baked goods in a fifty-mile radius, and they’ll point you to me, Haylee Davis, co-owner of The Fluffy Cupcake. Admit it. The name is delightful. If it doesn’t conjure up the image of a perfectly capped sponge cake with buttercream icing covered in a smattering of sprinkles, or, if you’re lucky, one of my homemade chocolates sitting atop that puff of goodness, there’s something wrong with you. My bakery is everyone’s favorite place to be from the moment the first whiff of fresh bread wafts into the air until the last cupcake leaves the case. Every special occasion, birthday, wedding, and funeral starts with a pickup or delivery from The Fluffy Cupcake.

  Lake Pendle is a Hallmark movie set waiting to happen. We still have an old-fashioned Main Street, and it’s packed with traditional businesses to keep our residents stocked with what they need year-round. Big box stores haven’t invaded the beauty of our little town yet, and that is just one of the reasons tourists come back every summer to spend time on the beautiful blue waters.

  “Here you are, Mrs. McCracken. Have a good day and thanks for stopping at The Fluffy Cupcake.”

  “Thank you, Haylee. You’ve made my day. You know how much I love your Top O’ the Morning muffins!”

  I waved as the gray-haired lady of nearly nine decades accepted her box of muffins and toddled on down the sidewalk.

  “Quick, lock the door!” Amber, my best friend and business partner, yelled from behind me.

  I hurried to the door, laughing the whole way, and flipped over the sign from open to closed. Once locked, I leaned against the door to take a deep breath.

  “What a day,” I moaned before walking back behind the bakery counter. “We sold out of everything, and I lost track of how many special orders we took in. I’m going to be here for hours this weekend just trying to catch up.”

  “And you love every minute of it,” came a voice from the kitchen.

  The man behind the voice strode toward us in all of his handsome glory. The thought alone had me forcing myself not to roll my eyes. Brady Pearson wore an apron, a hairnet, and a grin that went on for miles. Cocky, self-absorbed, and incorrigible were the only three words you needed to describe the man. Sure, some women liked to add handsome, muscular, and good enough to eat, but I wasn’t one of them. Okay, so I was, but what I wasn’t was stupid enough to admit it to him. He didn’t need the encouragement. Guys like Brady had one thing on their mind—sex. Not the monogamous kind, either. They lived for sex, and lots of it, with a different woman every night. I wasn’t judging, to each their own, but I wasn’t going to be one of those women, no matter how many times he implied that he’d like me to be.

  “You look tired, cupcake,” he said, his voice oozing soothing charm. It made my blood boil.

  I took a step forward and dug my finger into his hard, highly muscled chest. “Do not call me cupcake, cupcake.” I ran my finger up his chest until it smacked him under the chin with purpose.

  He grasped my shoulders and shook them, his silky dishwater blond hair shifting around under his chef’s cap from the movement. “You need to loosen up. You’re not even thirty, but you act like a grandma ready for the nursing home.”

  This time, my brow went down slowly while his went up. He loved to goad me into a heated argument about who was more immature, him, or a six-month-old kitten. He usually won the contest every time. “Why aren’t you working? I would like to go home at some point today. I can’t do that until you’ve handed over your inventory form and prepared the cooler for delivery.”

  “You got big plans tonight, Chef Davis?” Brady’s lips turned up in a smile, and the sun from the front window glinted off his perfectly straight white teeth, nearly blinding me.

  I held my arms out wide. “Huge ones, they include stuffing a sock this long in your mouth!”

  Amber laughed melodically next to me and stuck an arm in to separate us. “Children, children,” she tisked. “If you can’t get along, I’ll have to get out the sharing shirt. Then you’ll have to touch each other.”

  The mutual eye roll she got did nothing but make her laugh. “I’m not sharing anything with him,” I muttered before I turned my back to him and started counting the money in the till.

  Brady chuckled, and I hated that I had to bite back a smile at the sound. He did have the best laugh I’d ever heard. “You know I love you, Chef Cupcake,” he said, kissing my cheek.

  “Awww, and what would I do without you, cookie britches?” I asked sweetly, batting my lashes at him over my shoulder.

  “Gag me with a cupcake,” came Amber’s dramatic response.

  We all laughed at the same time and I hip-checked Brady on my way by to my office where the safe was. “Seriously, though, Brady. I need the inventory done, and the cooler prepped.”

  Brady flipped his towel down off his shoulder and swiped at some frosting on my nose. “The inventory is on your desk, and the cooler has been prepped and swept out. Can I go home now, mommy?”

  “More like taskmaster,” Amber sang helpfully from the front where she was cleaning out the empty trays from the bakery case.

  I darted into my office, setting the bag of cash down on my desk. The inventory form was indeed sitting there in all of its glory, and I picked it up, reading over it with a practiced eye. I’d owned The Fluffy Cupcake for eight years, so inventory was second nature to me now. Brady had only been doing it for two years, but what I read had me scratching my head.

  I lifted my gaze to Brady, who lounged in the doorway, one leg kicked over the other, and his toe resting on the floor while he waited. I hated the way he looked at me like I was a chocolate chip cupcake with chocolate buttercream icing. It unnerved me, but more than that, it sent a chill of excitement through me. The excitement part didn’t unnerve me as much as it scared the crap out of me.

  “We have next to nothing in the cooler?” I asked, surprised. “How did that happen?”

  I tried to shove past him to check the cooler, but he grasped my shoulder and held me in place. “Haylee, you’ve been in your own little world rec
ently. I don’t know where that is, but it’s not here with us. Are you okay?”

  My mind raced straight up the stairs to my apartment and the calendar hanging on the fridge. The big red X loomed in my vision while the heat of Brady’s hand burned through my chef’s coat. The faces of all those guys I’d dated this past year converged until the only face I saw was Brady’s. Secretly, the only face I wanted to see on those dates was his, but that could never happen for a multitude of reasons.

  I swallowed and cleared my throat before I answered. “I’m fine. We’ve been busy, that’s all. I’m trying to keep up, but admittedly, that’s getting harder by the day.”

  His eyes told me that he knew I was lying, but he didn’t push the matter. I was glad since I didn’t need everyone to know how pathetic I had become. It was bad enough that Amber knew.

  “Sure, okay,” he agreed, but I could read between the lines. His sarcasm was evident in those two words. “Anyway, we’ve sold so much product—”

  “Which is a good thing,” I jumped in. “Business is booming.”

  “I agree,” he said calmly, his hand still on my shoulder, only now it was kneading it. I had observed Brady knead bread thousands of times, and now I understood why his loaves were always the best in the case. His hands were magic. “It’s taking more raw ingredients to get the job done, though. My job is to tell you what we have, and that’s what I did. We have enough for two days of our usual items, but that’s it.”

  “Two days?” I asked incredulously. “What I ordered last time should have lasted another week, at least.”

  “Not when we’re selling out of our product every day. That’s not even taking the special orders into account. Business is booming, and it’s time to readjust our plan.”

  A breath escaped my lips. “You mean it’s time I start paying attention and stop burying my head in the cupcake batter.”

  He shook his head, his hair shifting under his hat like it always does. I knew the locks were soft and silky because I once had to use his hair to catch myself from falling off a ladder. He probably didn’t appreciate having chocolate cake batter in his hair for the rest of the day, but all he said was he was glad I didn’t fall and get hurt.

  “That’s not what you’re doing. You’re trying to stay afloat with all that cupcake batter, and you don’t have time to micromanage everyone else’s job the way you used to. It’s time to take the training wheels off and let me ride,” he said, his long lashes sweeping across his cheek when he winked at me.

  Amber probably heard me sigh with girly pleasure all the way out in the main bakery. Dammit, I hate myself right now. Why do I let those thoughts even wander through my head?

  “You’re right. I hate that you’re right, but that doesn’t change the truth. Do you want to take over the ordering?”

  Brady’s brow went up in surprise. “Completely?”

  “For the most part,” I agreed with a nod. “You’re the kitchen manager, so you’re already in charge of the cooler. You’ve worked here long enough to know how I do the ordering, too.”

  “Sure do,” he agreed with a nod. “I’m not new to this, but I also don’t own the place. I’m not going to step on any toes.”

  “That’s a first,” I muttered.

  “What was that?” he asked with a smirk, which told me he’d heard exactly what I said.

  “Nothing, I was just saying that you’re not stepping on toes if I agree to you taking over the job.”

  He rolled his eyes in plain view. “Sure, it totally sounded like that. If I’ve stepped on someone’s toes in the past, tell me now so I can fix it.”

  He was so close to me that I could feel his breath on my cheek when he spoke. I rested my hand on his chest unconsciously, but the immediate heat that burned my hand had me pulling it back instantly. If you don’t want to get burned, Haylee, stay out of the kitchen. “You haven’t. Ignore me. I’m tired. Do you want to take over the inventory, or not?”

  He nodded once. “Yes.”

  “Good. That will help me out. The first few times, we’ll go over the order together before you call it in, and once you feel confident with it, you can do it yourself. Remember, you always have to make sure you have all of the ingredients for the special—”

  “Specialty items that we might need at any time,” he finished. My heavy sigh of resignation made Brady chuckle. “I’ve been around the block a few times, cupcake. At some point, you’re going to have to trust me.”

  “That’s probably never going to happen, Brady. The Fluffy Cupcake is my business, and I don’t trust it with anyone.”

  His finger bopped the tip of my nose, and he winked. “This is yours and Amber’s business, and you trust her to do what needs to be done up front. Trust me to do what needs to be done behind the scenes, so you can keep making all of those delicious treats.”

  “We’ll start with the tentative agreement to let you take over the ordering and work up to trust in a few years,” I answered smugly.

  Brady’s laugh was long, low, and sexy as hell. I hated that the first place my mind went was to the bedroom—with him in my bed wearing nothing but that chef’s hat.

  I cleared my throat and prayed my cheeks weren’t the color of Red Hots. “I’ll need to see that order no later than tomorrow morning if you’re going to do this.”

  Brady threw his arm over my shoulders and walked me toward the prep area in the back of the bakery. He lifted an iPad from his prep bench and handed it to me. “Check away, Chef Cupcake.”

  My gaze drifted to the iPad, where my order forms were loaded and ready for submission to the company websites. My fingers scrolled through the order forms, and I was more than a little surprised to see he’d even ordered all of the extra ingredients we needed for the special orders that came in today. After a few minutes, I lifted my gaze back to Brady’s.

  “You’re my hero,” I whispered, relief filling me that I didn’t need to spend three hours here tonight putting the order together.

  All Brady did was wink.

  Two

  I strolled into my kitchen wearing my Minnesota Twins nightshirt that I’d had since the tenth grade. It was almost paper-thin and had a few chocolate ice cream stains, but nothing else that I owned was as comfortable for a warm summer night. I grasped the handle on the fridge, ready for a glass of wine after a long day, but the red X on the calendar caught my eye again. “You don’t own me,” I whispered, sticking my tongue out at the offending paper.

  Unfortunately, that red X did own me. It taunted me, and I regretted having the idea to mark my thirtieth birthday that way. If I’d just left the box empty, I could walk by it forever and pretend it didn’t exist—the same way I’d done for the last twenty-nine years. That was much harder to do when it had a giant red slash through it.

  My head fell back until I was staring at the ceiling. I’d been doing this for six months now. The whole point of the red X was to motivate me to make time for a personal life. The last eight years my sole focus had been on the business and it was time to change that. It was time to find my soulmate. I’d dated with gusto since January second, but so far, I’d struck out. All of the guys I’d dated thus far could barely tie their shoes.

  There’d been Tim who had significant commitment issues to the point he couldn’t decide if he wanted chicken or beef tacos. Then there was Shawn, who spilled his beans on my pants and spent the rest of the date telling people I’d pooped myself. Most would think that date would hold up in the record books as the worst, but they hadn’t met Jerry yet.

  I shuddered and blocked him from my mind. All the guys I dated this year taught me one thing. Sometimes, a vibrator is all a girl needs to mind her business. “Alexa,” I said, waiting for the voice to fill the small apartment.

  “What can I help you with today, Henlee?”

  I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt my brain. I’d given up on getting her to say my name correctly after the first year. “Add a new calendar to the shopping list.”

 
“I’m sorry, Henlee, you previously added a calendar to your list of not allowed items. Would you like me to remove it from that list?”

  I sighed heavily.

  “I did not understand your response, Henlee.”

  “Alexa, stop,” I muttered, opening the door and grabbing a giant bottle of prosecco.

  Pouring a glass, I stuck my tongue out at the red X. Mature, right? I didn’t much care. I was exhausted, and another long day of baking was already lined up for tomorrow. Since tomorrow was Sunday, our hours were limited, but I had special orders to get ready for Monday morning. It was the beginning of June, and that was prime tourist and wedding season in Lake Pendle. If I didn’t stay on top of things, I’d crash and burn faster than a race car with three tires.

  As much as I hated to admit it, without Brady, I’d be screwed. He had worked at the bakery for almost seven years now and was a talented baker in his own right. “If only he didn’t constantly call me cupcake,” I muttered, lowering myself to the couch and grabbing the remote. A glass of wine and a little bit of Netflix would relax me enough to get some sleep before heading back to the bakery at four a.m.

  The doorbell rang, and I glanced at the clock. It was almost eight o’clock, and I didn’t order any food, though my brain suddenly decided that pizza would be welcome. I sighed at my glass of wine and hoisted myself off the couch. With an eye stuck to the peephole, I saw the distorted image of my best friend. She waited impatiently on the postage-stamp-sized landing at the top of the long stairway to my apartment. I opened the door and was immediately greeted by a warn nighttime breeze that rustled Amber’s hair.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the apartment.

  “Nice to see you, too,” Amber said, laughing. “Nothing is wrong. I just thought I’d come over for girls’ night. Is that a problem?”

  I grinned, and laughter filled my voice when I spoke. “Not a problem at all. You just usually call or text, so I was concerned. Do you want a glass of wine?” I motioned at mine sitting on the table, and Amber nodded exaggeratedly.