by Ivy Layne
Hope refused the bag, shaking her head at Daisy. “You look miserable. What happened?” Hope's warm brown eyes shot to me, accusation hovering. I shook my head back.
“I quit the bakery,” Daisy said.
Hope gasped and sank into the armchair beside the sofa. “Daisy, why? What happened? Is Grams okay?”
“She's fine, I guess. It's my dad—”
Daisy filled Hope in on the details. I took the bag from her hand before she could crush it and removed the box inside. Hope had the right idea. Daisy needed something sweet. Just as she finished retelling the saga of the day, I handed her a chocolate-covered caramel sprinkled with rough sea salt.
“Eat it,” I ordered. I expected her glare. I didn't expect Hope to back me up.
“You need them more than I do, Daisy.” She stood over Daisy with her hands on her hips until Daisy took a tentative bite of the caramel. Her eyes sank shut as the sharp salt and sweet caramel hit her taste buds, and suddenly I wanted to push Hope from the room and feed Daisy in private.
“Do you know what you're going to do?” Hope asked.
Before Daisy could answer, I said, “I'm trying to convince her to move in here.” At Hope’s surprised look, I added, “With me. Because she doesn't want to live in the bakery apartment.”
“It's too soon,” Daisy put in and took another nibble of the caramel.
“It's only too soon if you feel like it's too soon.” Hope waited for Daisy to look up at her. “Does it feel like it's too soon?”
Daisy glanced at me, then at Hope. Finally, she said, “It feels like I'm in the middle of a tornado. I don't know if it's too soon or how long I'm supposed to wait. My whole life is turned around and I don't know anything.” That last part came out as a wail, a new flood of tears falling down Daisy's cheeks. Hell.
I pulled her into my arms, bringing her head to my shoulder. With a hard exhale, Daisy pressed her face into my neck, her body shuddering under my hands. Hope watched us, her face soft.
“I'll give you two some privacy. Daisy, if you need me, I'm here.” She let herself out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.
“I'm sorry,” Daisy murmured, her lips warm against my neck. “I can't seem to get it together. I know I need to plan, to figure this out, but I can't. I feel like someone died.”
Rubbing my hand up and down her back, I searched for the right words. “You don't have to plan. And you don't have to know what you want. Not yet. For now, let's just take this one day at a time. Maybe one hour at a time. And give yourself a break. You feel like someone died because you're grieving. Your parents let you down, which wasn't the biggest surprise, but I know what happened with Grams was way out of left field—it's too much to take in all at once.”
Daisy let out another gusty sigh and sat up. I reached to wipe the tears from her cheek with the side of my thumb. “How about we say you're welcome to stay here until you find something you like better? It's not moving in. You're just crashing here for now. Does that work?”
She nodded. “I'm too inside-out to make any big decisions yet.” She let out a hitching laugh. “Other than quitting my job. I must be crazy.”
I took her hands in mine, shaking them lightly to get her attention. “You're not crazy. You're an excellent baker and a great businesswoman. You deserve to have an ownership stake in the bakery. You do not deserve for your father to take advantage of your hard work so he can live the easy life.”
“Where am I going to find a job? It's not like there's another bakery in town.”
“I don't know, Daze.” I cupped her face in my hands and drew her close, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I just know we'll figure this out, and right after a huge family fight is not the time to expect yourself to have all the answers. You need rest and a good meal. And time. I know you feel like you're all alone, but you're not.”
As if to punctuate my words, a knock sounded on the door. I rose, grumbling, “Definitely not alone. Maybe we should move to the watchtower. No indoor plumbing, but plenty of privacy.”
That earned me a weak laugh. I swung open the door. “What—” I demanded, stopping when I saw Sterling standing there, a bottle of wine in her hand.
She pushed the wine at me and headed straight for Daisy. “Daisy needs a glass of that. It's her favorite.”
I grabbed the opener from the mini-kitchenette Savannah had set up in the corner of my suite. It wasn't much, but it covered the basics—a tiny fridge, single-serve coffee maker, basket of snacks, and two wine glasses with an opener.
Sterling dropped onto the sofa beside Daisy and pulled her into an extravagant hug. “I heard what happened from Hope. I always thought your Grams was cool, but—” Sterling shook her head. “She must have lost her mind. And your dad sucks. And speaking of people who suck—”
Sterling looked to me. “I stole that bottle from Bryce's room after he stole it from the wine cellar. I told Savannah she's going to have to lock the wine cellar or the best bottles are going to end up on some auction site. Forrest is okay, by the way,” she added with a half-glare in my direction. “Not that you asked.”
“I didn't ask because I don't want to know why you care. Or why you were having lunch with him. Stay away from my CFO, Sterling.”
Sterling tossed her golden hair over her shoulder and gave Daisy a look that clearly said older brothers were annoying and not to be obeyed. I rolled my eyes and Daisy let out another weak laugh.
Just as I was wondering how to eject Sterling without being a dick, she rose after giving Daisy a long, tight hug. “Everything will be okay. Have a glass of wine. Or three. Eat those caramels Hope brought you, and get some sleep. Things will work out. I promise.”
Sterling was gone in a wave of sweet, floral perfume, closing the door quietly behind her. Daisy took the wine glass I handed her and sipped. “How did she know this is my favorite wine?”
“Sterling pays attention when she wants to. And she likes you.”
Daisy sniffed back a tear and sipped her wine again. “I'm so tired,” she said, the words slipping out on a sigh of exhaustion. “I want to go to sleep and find out tomorrow that this was all a dream.”
Another knock interrupted before I could answer. All this moral support was nice, but it wouldn't kill the rest of them to give us a few minutes of quiet. Savannah was at the door, a rolling cart in front of her laden with covered dishes.
“Did that cart come from The Inn?” I asked, stepping back to let her pass me.
Savannah looked over her shoulder. “Maybe. You'd have to ask Mom. It was in the storage rooms when I got here. But don't get used to room service. I don't have enough staff for that.”
Daisy glanced up, her eyes wet again. “Thanks, Savannah. I'm just feeling a little raw. I didn't want to see everyone else.”
Savannah gave her a brief hug before setting up the table. “Don't worry about it. Have a good dinner and get some sleep. Things will look better in the morning. No one else will bother you tonight.”
No one else did. Daisy ate every bite of her dinner, only wincing a little over the limp salad. At least dessert was good—to be expected considering it was one of hers. Savannah must have picked it up in town since I knew Daisy hadn't brought it herself.
Her stomach full, Daisy's eyes were drooping. It was still early, even for Daisy, but bed was the best place for both of us. I closed my fingers around hers and pulled her up, my hands going straight to the hem of her shirt.
“We can just go to sleep,” I murmured against her neck, meaning every word. I could live without sex if she just wasn't in the mood. And after the day she'd had, I wasn't expecting her to want anything but rest.
I was wrong.
Daisy's hands went to my shirt, pulling it free of my pants, her busy hands sliding over my back before going to work on the buttons.
“I want to go to sleep.” She licked across my collarbone, he
r mouth pausing against my neck to give a sharp little suck. “After.”
“After works for me,” I agreed. I had her naked in a blink, every inch of her soft skin bared for me to worship. I kissed, stroked, touched until she'd forgotten her miserable day and was writhing on the bed, begging me for more.
She could have more. Daisy could have everything I had to give and beyond. I'd do anything to make her happy. Anything. As Daisy came apart in my arms, I followed her, the brilliant flash of pleasure blanking out my mind.
I had no idea what was coming. No clue that while I thought I had everything under control, things were about to get a whole lot worse.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Daisy
What the fuck happened here?” Royal stood in the open doorway of my apartment, his body blocking the view. I edged closer, jabbing him with an elbow until he made room for me.
Holy crap. My place was a disaster. As small as it was, I could see pretty much everything from the door, and everything was a mess.
Drawers turned upside down, the contents of my kitchen scattered over the floor, cushions from the sofa were all over the place, stuffing spilling out.
“Did someone stab my sofa?” My voice sounded high and thin in my ears. Had someone broken in? Why? “Why would someone break into my apartment?” I asked, echoing my inner thoughts. “I don't have anything worth stealing.”
“I'm calling West.” Royal pulled out his phone, his arm shooting out to stop me as I ventured further into my destroyed apartment.
“I won't touch anything,” I promised as Royal started to talk to whoever had answered at the police station.
The destruction was worse in my bedroom. The mattress had stab wounds like my sofa cushions, and my dresser drawers were in the same state as those in my kitchen. It was like someone was searching for something.
At least my recipes were safe, stored in the cloud in a file only I could access. I didn't think they'd be worth much to anyone else—certainly not enough to justify destroying my apartment—but they meant the world to me. They were the only thing I owned that I truly cared about.
I didn't have anything else of value. My TV was ancient, and my laptop was in the bakery office. I guess technically it wasn't my laptop since the bakery had purchased it. Hell, I'd have to add buying a new laptop I couldn't afford to my list of things to do, right after finding a job and a new place to live.
Royal will let you live with him, I reminded myself.
No, I couldn't depend on Royal to solve my problems. I had to handle this myself.
“West will be here soon,” Royal said. “We can't touch anything. He asked us to wait downstairs.”
Great. I couldn't remember if I'd seen the lights on down there when I came in. As we descended the stairs to the back door of the bakery kitchen, I hoped for a smidge of good luck to offset all the bad. If I had to deal with my family right now, I might just lose it for good.
No one was there. Perversely, the dark, empty kitchen annoyed me. Hadn't anyone heard that I'd quit? Who was going to prep for the day? Grams wasn't used to running the place by herself. Would Mom and Dad pitch in?
Not your problem, I told myself. Maybe it wasn't. But still, I might have been mad at Grams, but I didn't love her any less. Ugh, I had to learn to compartmentalize. I'd worry about Grams later. I had my fill of problems right now.
By the time I'd made a pot of coffee and scrounged up a muffin for Royal, West was at the back door, his hair ruffled, eyes heavy but alert. I handed him coffee and a muffin, and we followed him back up the stairs.
West stood in my doorway, scanning the mess. “Any idea who might have done this?”
I shook my head. “No clue. It doesn't make any sense. I don't have anything worth stealing. Why wouldn't they try for the register downstairs?”
“And there's nothing you can think of that might have to do with this? Nothing you know that maybe you don't want to tell me?”
West's eyes drilled into me. It hit me all of a sudden.
He knew who might have done this, and he expected me to know. I didn't. I racked my brain for anything, anyone who might have broken into my place. I came up blank. Again.
“I really don't, West. If I did, I'd tell you. I swear.”
His eyes stayed on me for a long moment. Apparently satisfied that I was telling the truth or figuring he'd get that truth out of me later, West nodded. “Why don't you go down to work and I'll get a few of my people in to dust for prints and check for any other evidence. I'll let you know when you're clear to come back in.”
“Okay, thanks.” That was all I could say. I wished I knew what was going on or why someone would have broken in, but I didn't.
Compartmentalize.
What did I have to do next?
Go downstairs and finish the custom cake orders I'd promised. Then I could pack up my stuff in the office and figure out the next step.
One thing at a time. That's how I was going to get through this. One thing at a time.
Royal left me at the door with a kiss, turning down my offer of breakfast. “I'll call you later,” he promised. “Don't let them guilt you into coming back.”
“No chance of that,” I said, not sure that was true. At the thought of my parents, I had enough righteous anger to fend off any attempt at guilt. But when I thought of Grams…
An hour later, Grams poked her head through the door. A pang of remorse stabbed my heart. If my mother hadn't followed her, things might have turned out differently.
Instead, my mom raised an eyebrow at me and said, “You owe all of us an apology. Storming out yesterday and going over to stir up your grandmother was just too much. After all she's done for you.”
Sheree shook her head slowly at me, her gaze heavy. I tried not to care that she was so disappointed in me. I wasn't the one who was wrong here. Right?
“I'm not going to apologize to anyone,” I said, smoothing the edge of frosting at the base of the cake so I could avoid looking at her. “And I don't want to have this conversation again. I meant what I said. I quit. I'm only here because I specifically promised these two cakes, and I don't want to let the clients down.”
“You think I can't bake a cake as well as you?” Sheree challenged, her eyes hot.
Someone save me from my mother in a temper. I started to bite my tongue and then decided—what the hell? Why not just say what I was thinking?
“No, you can't,” I said flatly. “I've spent years learning to design and decorate cakes. Years. And I've worked with these two clients almost as long. I want to make sure they get exactly what they paid for, and I know you can't pull it off. Maybe Grams, but she's out of practice, and she didn't meet with the clients on the design. When I'm done, you can find out how good you are, because I won't be here to pick up the slack. I hope you like being at work before five am and being on your feet all day.”
“Daisy, stop this right now!” My mom's burnished skin went a little gray. “I don't want to hear another word about you quitting.”
“Fine, I won't say a word. I'll say this: if you don't get out of this kitchen and leave me in peace, I'll walk out right now and you can finish the cakes yourself. Hopefully, there's still enough cash around to offer a refund.”
If possible, my mother's face went a shade or two grayer. She left, Grams on her heels. I got back to work, more than ready to get away from the bakery.
West came by an hour later. “Techs are done at your place. The lock wasn't tampered with. Are you sure you don't know what this was about? You can talk to me, Daisy.”
Again, he was looking at me like he knew that I knew what was going on. All I had was the truth. “I really have no idea, West. But I promise that if I figure it out, I'll tell you. I will.”
West gave me the same solemn nod he had at my earlier protest and left. I was washing my hands in preparati
on for more frosting when my father pushed open the door from the front of the bakery.
“Why was Garfield here?” he demanded. “What does the police chief want with you?”
“My place was broken into, and he was letting me know what's going on,” I said flatly, unable to meet his eyes. I was too angry to deal with him. Too angry to pretend I had my emotions under control.
“If you're quitting, you'll need to move out.”
I nodded sharply, not trusting my voice. He didn't care about the apartment. He was just trying to get a reaction out of me. I knew that, and it didn't matter. My throat was still choked up.
“I don't like you talking to Garfield. Just remember, we're family. If you bring trouble down on one of us, you hurt all of us. Including your grandmother.”
His words spun in my head long after the door swung shut behind him. Why did my dad care what I said to West? I didn't know anything about anything.
Unless I did. What did they think I knew? I remembered my dad and the mystery woman talking in the dark behind the bakery all those weeks ago. But he didn't know I'd seen them, and I still had no idea what they'd been talking about. There wasn't anything else.
Not until this morning and my apartment, but I didn't even know why… And wasn't it weird that my dad didn't even ask about the apartment? I told him my place was broken into and his only comment was that he didn't want me talking to the police?
An uneasy suspicion planted itself in my brain. But why? He had the keys, why break in?
The lock wasn't tampered with.
The lock wasn't tampered with because the person who broke in had the keys.
No.
My phone rang. Royal's ringtone. I should answer, but my hands were covered in frosting, and if I answered the phone I'd have to take the gloves off, find a place to put this spatula…
I was avoiding him. My head was too messed up to talk to Royal. I'd call him later.
The phone fell silent, then started ringing again ten seconds later. Royal again. I looked down at the cake and decided I'd finish this up and call him back. Only a few more minutes. Then I'd be at a good stopping point. The phone fell silent, the kitchen quiet for a few too-short minutes.
