SIX RULES
Book Two in the SIX Series
By Randileigh Kennedy
Copyright - 2014 by Randileigh Kennedy
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, people, or places are used fictitiously. Other names, places, characters, and incidents are simply products of the author's imagination, and any similarity to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced or used in any way whatsoever without written consent from the author.
Chapter 1
“You are completely unlovable, Mallory,” Dillon said, pacing back and forth across my apartment.
“Unlovable? Who says that to someone?” I responded frantically. Surely I wasn’t that bad. “You know I can’t miss this party today. That’s not fair.”
“Mallory, my grandma died. It’s her funeral. You don’t think that’s a significant event? Your work is really more important to you?” Dillon stopped pacing and stared directly at me.
“Dillon, you know I’ve only had my bakery open for a few months. This is one of the biggest orders I’ve ever had. I really need this,” I stated sincerely, hoping he would understand.
“Well, then I need to go,” he responded, grabbing his wallet and car keys off the kitchen counter.
“Okay. Are you coming back tonight then? After the funeral service?” I asked quietly.
“Mallory, you aren’t getting what I’m saying. I’m done. You aren’t worth this.” Dillon briskly walked to the front door. Without even the slightest pause he opened the door, walked through it, and closed it immediately behind him. The sound of his footsteps walking down the metal stairs was loud at first. Then, within seconds, the noise became obsolete.
I wanted to cry. Really, I wanted to. Surely a breakup of this magnitude when you’re told you’re unlovable and unworthy, that deserved some tears, right? But how on earth would I have time to cry about this when I only had an hour to pack up all the pastries I made for the art gala tonight?
I quickly pinned my short brown hair out of my eyes and stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My hazel eyes didn’t even look misty after what had just happened. Maybe Dillon was right. Maybe I wasn’t worth being in a relationship with after all.
I quickly threw on a loose pink cotton dress and hurried out my front door. I ran down the metal stairs and inside the bakery, located directly underneath my apartment. It sure was nice to live where I worked. Less time to think about life on my short commute down the steps.
I opened up the back door to the bakery and instantly smelled the glorious scent of all my hard work. The fresh smell of baked dough, chocolate frosting, brown sugar… I felt in that moment as though I could even smell the sprinkles; that is how overwhelmingly delicious the room smelled.
I quickly began loading bakery boxes onto the metal cart I used to load up my bakery van. My best friend Addie, also conveniently my business partner, left this morning for a vacation in Mexico with her boyfriend Griffin. She wanted to postpone her trip because of this event, but I couldn’t let her do it. She had never been on a real vacation before, especially not a romantic one, so I had to let her go. I really wasn’t bothered by having to handle all of the loading and set up alone. Of course, that was because as of ten minutes ago I thought I had a sweet loving boyfriend of my own to help me out.
I carefully stacked the bakery boxes one by one, mentally taking inventory of them to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything. I had cupcakes, chocolate tortes, a couple of layered cakes, twelve dozen cookies, and even some tiramisu, which was a new project for me. I carefully loaded all of the boxes into my bakery van.
The event tonight was at a fancy art gallery downtown. It was some kind of auction I think. I had to admit, I wasn’t big into the art scene so I didn’t know much about it, but it seemed like a big deal. It was a fully catered event, and somehow through my hard work and recent marketing campaign I was contracted to provide all of the desserts. I had some other large orders in the past several months ever since I started up my bakery. But other than a few boring political gatherings, this event was by far my most profitable.
Once the van was fully loaded, I took one last glance at my order sheet to make sure I had everything. The art gallery was less than ten minutes away from my bakery, but I didn’t want to make any return trips if I could avoid it.
I drove downtown and eventually pulled into the small alleyway behind the art gallery. I was surprised to see a large white catering truck already parked in the delivery zone. Perhaps the delivery scheduled right before mine was running behind.
I parked my van right behind the catering truck, annoyed and surprised to see a bunch of white bakery boxes in the back of the open truck. I quickly exited my vehicle, anxious to find out what was going on.
In that moment a handsome guy stepped out of the back entrance of the art gallery, making his way to the back of the catering truck. He had messy blonde hair and light blue eyes, and his skin was glowing with a deep tan. He had on dark jeans and a light blue v-neck t-shirt, looking casual but somehow polished at the same time.
“Excuse me, but I have a three-thirty delivery time. Are you almost done?” I asked him eagerly. I didn’t want anyone from the gallery to think I was late with my delivery just because someone else was blocking my path.
“Ah, my apologies. I just have a few more boxes to take in. So, you won the dessert bid I’m guessing?” he asked smugly.
“What are those bakery boxes you’re taking in? You’re from Luca’s, right?” I asked, reading the sign from the side of his catering truck. “Aren’t you only on main course detail?”
“Yeah, but I always like to provide a few extras. I’m thinking about adding a line of desserts to our catering menu, so I thought I would bring some by,” he said, reaching for some of the bakery boxes.
“Excuse me? Who does that? I’m in charge of desserts, so I really don’t think it’s necessary for you to drop those off,” I said curtly, not even bothering to hide my annoyance. “I would like to have a word with Mr. Luca about this.”
“Sure, I’ve got a few minutes,” he replied, setting down the white boxes. He turned to me and put his hands in his pockets.
“This is your business?” I asked, a little surprised. He looked too young, probably in his early twenties, to have a full-fledged catering business. Granted, I was only twenty-six, but still. I thought I was one of those over-achiever types. “Your name is Luca?”
“Well, that’s my last name. My name is Greyson,” he said, extending out a hand for me to shake.
“What’s with the blonde hair? How are you Italian?” I pointed to the sign on his truck where it said ‘Luca’s specializes in fine Italian cuisine.’ “Shouldn’t you have a dark slicked back mullet and freakish amounts of body hair coming out of the collar of your shirt?” He laughed, then shrugged his shoulders at me. I wasn’t amused by this guy’s casual aura.
“Well, first off, weird Italian stereotypes from you, but I’ll let that slide. But to answer your question, my grandfather was Italian. But he preferred blondes, as did my father, so I guess I lucked out on avoiding the freakish amounts of body hair. Anyway, look, about the desserts. I just thought…”
“I don’t think they’ll be necessary,” I said, cutting him off. “I think it would be more professional of you to just leave them in the truck, pull forward, and let me handle the desserts.” I didn’t mean to sound so frustrated as I spoke, but I was already having a bad day after my afternoon with Dillon. I certainly didn’t need another handsome guy trying to prevent me from pulling off
this event.
“Whoa, sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought it would be a nice gesture. Maybe we can talk about this later when you’re not so angry. How about dinner tonight,” he said with a smirk. He had a dimple in his right cheek and his white teeth were perfectly straight.
“Are you really asking me out right now? Does this really seem like the appropriate time to say that?” I stared at him intensely, wondering why he got me this worked up in the first place. “Look, I’m having a really bad day so far. Can you just move your truck?”
“What’s your name?”
“Mallory. I own Sweet Cheeks Bakery,” I said, still not finding any amusement out of this conversation.
“So dinner then? Maybe afterwards we can sit around eating all of these leftover desserts I have,” he said, gesturing to all of the bakery boxes he still had sitting in the back of his van.
“No, I’m not interested. You seem like one of those pompous jerks who thinks that any woman would say yes to your advances just because you’re good looking and you can make cupcakes. Besides, I’m in a relationship. Or I was, like an hour ago. Never mind. Look, will you just move your truck? Please?”
Greyson smiled. “You think I’m good looking?”
I wanted so badly to smack the stupid smirk off of his handsome face, but yet instead somehow a slight giggle emerged from my throat. Great. I’m feeding the zoo animals.
“Look, it doesn’t matter what I think. Can I please just drop off my delivery?” I asked sincerely, hoping he was ready to just give in.
“It was nice to meet you, Mallory,” he replied, tipping his head at me. “I’m sorry about the desserts.” He quickly closed the back of his catering truck and brushed past me, climbing into the driver’s side of his vehicle. I gave him a small half-wave, relieved he was finally moving out of my way.
I pulled my van forward and parked it as close to the door as possible. I was relieved when a couple teenage boys came out of the back door of the gallery to help me unload. We pulled all of the bakery boxes out and carried them inside.
“Mallory, I am so glad to see you! The guys have been raving about your desserts since you brought in all those samples a couple weeks ago,” Michelle gushed. She was the event coordinator for the gallery, a very slender, pretty woman with long straight blonde hair and very full lips. I had worked with her once before when I supplied desserts for a community event in the downtown square.
“Well, I’m sure they’ll like these,” I said, walking over to a table set up for me so I could put together my dessert display.
“You should have seen the catering guy that just came in here, oh my goodness. He was as handsome as they come,” she said, looking a little flush.
“Too bad I missed him,” I muttered, a little annoyed that guys like Greyson got the reaction they did just because of their looks. Sure, it made sense to me that women got that kind of attention. But for some reason it irritated me when the tables were turned.
“Well, I’ll leave you to set up,” Michelle said politely. “I have the ice sculpture guy coming in about an hour and I have a few other things to set up before then. Are you sure you don’t want to stay for the auction tonight?”
“No, but thanks for the offer. I’ll swing by just for a bit just to check on things, probably around six if that’s okay. But I’ll be brief. I’d rather people enjoy my desserts without me standing around fretting about their comments, if that makes sense,” I replied, opening up the bakery boxes to begin my display.
“Oh come on, you have the best desserts in town. You have nothing to worry about. My boss already told me he wants to use you for a few more events we have coming up this Fall. I’m going to make you stick around for at least one of them,” Michelle said sincerely. She smiled and walked to the front of the gallery, leaving me alone to finish my masterpiece.
About thirty minutes later, my dessert table was completely set up. The tiramisu was all loaded up into a separate room in the back of the gallery for the catering staff to distribute it during post-auction cocktails. I was satisfied with my display, and even took a couple pictures of it to show Addie as soon as she returned from Mexico.
I said goodbye to the gallery staff, wished them luck on their event, and headed outside to my bakery van. Before climbing in the driver’s side door, I noticed a piece of paper stuck underneath my windshield wipers. Damn, please don’t let this be a parking ticket. I wasn’t parked illegally in the alley, was I? I was pretty sure it was a designated loading zone.
I picked up the piece of paper.
In case you change your mind, I’ll be at Eastwick’s Pub at seven.
“What is wrong with this guy?” I said under my breath. I crinkled up the note and climbed into my van. If I wanted to go out with Greyson, I would have made plans when he first asked me. The note just seemed desperate. Sure, he was a handsome guy, but he annoyed me today. Granted, Dillon annoyed me today too, but that was a whole different story.
I drove from the art gallery back to the bakery, trying to push thoughts of Greyson out of my mind. The last thing I needed was another guy in my life nagging me about how much time I spent at work. A guy as handsome as Greyson probably needed a lot of attention, and I just didn’t have the time.
Chapter 2
As soon as I returned to the bakery, I cleaned everything up and headed upstairs to my apartment. It was so convenient living above the bakery. My grandparents had given the building to me when they passed. It was a small storefront with two apartments upstairs. I was so grateful to live and work there. Ever since my friends convinced me to follow my passion and open up my own bakery into an actual business, things had been going quite well. My best friend Addie helped me out full-time, which was a blessing since business had been booming all summer. We constantly stayed busy, baking, decorating, and coming up with new desserts to expand our menu.
Once I was back inside my apartment, I took a shower and quickly towel-dried my short dark hair. I debated whether or not to grow it out over the summer, but considering how much time I spent at work, I decided on keeping it short. It just seemed less time consuming that way.
I opted for a simple black dress to wear to the art gallery. I was only going to stop by for a few minutes just to check on my desserts and make sure everything was running smoothly. I didn’t want something too casual where I would stand out in the sophisticated crowd. Conversely, I didn’t want to appear too overdressed when I otherwise didn’t have a good excuse to be out.
My mind briefly thought of Greyson, wondering if he would be stopping by the venue tonight as well. Not that it mattered, since I was completely uninterested. Besides, he was supposed to be at Eastwick’s Pub tonight, according to his note anyway. Who does that? I definitely wasn’t interested in a guy bossy enough to tell me when and where I was going for a date I hadn’t even agreed to.
I shook those thoughts out of my head and slipped on some tall heels and bright jewelry. I put a few waves in my hair just to give it a little texture and dabbed on a little perfume. I wondered for a moment if Dillon would come back to my apartment tonight. I mean, he didn’t really dump me this morning just because I had to work, right? Although he did tell me I was unlovable, which was a little harsh to say if someone didn’t really mean it.
I checked my phone just to see if Dillon had called, but the screen was blank. I debated calling him for a moment, but what would I say? I was extremely busy trying to get the bakery up and running, so maybe he was right. Maybe I didn’t have time for a relationship.
I picked up my small clutch purse and took one last look in the mirror. Good enough for a ten minute appearance.
I drove my black Honda over to the art gallery with my window rolled down to take in the warm August air. Most places were hot in August, but here in Mountain Ridge, Nevada, the elevation kept things much cooler. The town was nestled in the trees near the California border, right next to Lake Tahoe. The summer weather was absolutely beautiful, although the
winters were a bit harsh.
I pulled down the back alley behind the art gallery and parked, relieved not to see any other cars in the back. Hopefully I was the only vendor stopping by right now. The last thing I needed was to run into Greyson. He would probably think I was all dressed up tonight to meet him out later for a date with him, which obviously wasn’t true.
I slipped in the back door, happy to see Michelle in the back of the room as soon as I walked in.
“Mallory, hi! I’m so glad you stopped by. Everything is going off without a hitch. The food tonight is amazing, and your desserts… Oh my goodness, people absolutely love them,” Michelle said beaming. She wore a tight black pencil skirt and a crisp white top, looking as stunning and sophisticated as I would have expected.
“Good, I’m glad everything is running so smoothly,” I responded, politely shaking my head at a server holding out a tray of champagne. “I just came to check on things. Just to make sure there were no catastrophes with the table or anything.”
“Oh, you need to try this,” Michelle said eagerly, grabbing a small napkin with what appeared to be some type of bruschetta. “Luca’s is superb. All of their food is delicious. I don’t even care if I can’t peel off this tight skirt by the end of the night from all these carbs, it will be so worth it.” She smiled, motioning for me to try a bite.
She was right, it was tangy and salty all at once. It definitely had a unique flavor. “So has Greyson stopped by tonight?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Why would I care what Greyson was up to? I wasn’t sure why I even brought him up.
“Actually, he just left a few minutes ago. I tried to get him to stay, trust me. He had on a trendy suit without a tie. Dressy but yet kind of cool, if that makes sense. I would have much preferred to stare at him all night rather than these old balding rich guys,” she said smirking. “I mean, look around this place. I’m sure some of them are single, but they all look like someone’s dad, right?”
Six Rules: Book Two in the SIX Series Page 1
