The Forever Fling: A Billionaire Love Story

by Anna Lakewood

  Just as Charlotte passed the threshold to the back room to tidy up, the bell at the front door chimed. She smiled to herself, wondering who the eager customer was going to be. She took a moment to wipe her hands, then stepped back out front.

  “Morning,” a man said, his smile pleasant.

  It was the man with the bright blue eyes.

  The recognition sent a flutter of excitement through Charlotte’s chest. She took a moment to straighten a tray of doughnuts as she wondered what had gotten into her. “Good morning,” she answered evenly.

  She’d seen this man a few times before, but he’d never been in this early before Mary Ellen was in. Mary Ellen was Charlotte's assistant who took and filled orders while Charlotte carefully sculpted custom made treats and cakes. Charlotte had already gotten an earful about how this man must be the last eligible bachelor left in Sugar Cove.

  Charlotte managed to hold back a smirk as she remembered Mary Ellen’s chirping. What was his name? She couldn’t remember.

  His eyes stayed on Charlotte a bit too long before turning towards the doughnuts. He took his time studying them intently.

  Charlotte noted the strong lines of his arms under the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

  “I’ll take a lemon crème and a large, black coffee,” he said, his eyes snapping back to hers.

  Charlotte cleared her throat, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that she was blushing. “Sure. Can I get you anything else?”

  “That’s it for now. I’m sure I’ll be in another day to sample more.” He smiled as he gratefully accepted the doughnut from her. “Still warm. Do you make the doughnuts?”

  Charlotte’s smile grew bigger. “And everything else,” she said softly.

  He paused. “You’re the owner. Charlie’s daughter.”

  “Yes,” she answered, surprised that he knew her father’s name. Charlotte's father had passed away from cancer almost six years ago.

  The man held out his hand. “I'm Gabe Ryan.”

  Charlotte took Gabe’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  His eyes didn’t leave hers. “I’m sorry about your father. My grandmother told me. I think she was quite fond of him.”

  Charlotte looked down at her hands briefly before returning his gaze. “Oh, thank you.”

  Gabe raised his doughnut. “I see you’ve continued on the legacy of being Sugar Cove’s hidden gem.”

  She smiled, but he didn’t give her time to answer before he asked, “You wouldn’t be interested in… dinner sometime maybe, would you? Maybe tonight?”

  Charlotte opened her mouth to say something, but momentarily forgot her words in surprise. It had been a long time since someone had asked her out, and longer still since she had taken them up on it. She spent all her time at the bakery, and she had a rule of not dating customers.

  Gabe, showing no signs of being thrown off by her reaction, added, “I promise we’ll have fun.”

  “Ok,” Charlotte found herself answering, wondering for the second time what had gotten into her.

  Gabe smiled. “Ok, then. What time should I pick you up?”

  “I um…” Charlotte smoothed her shirt, willing herself to think of what she needed to do after closing. “I’ll be finished around seven.”

  “Seven then,” he said, holding her gaze.

  Half of Charlotte’s mouth turned up; then the other side completed the smile as she found Gabe’s eyes. “Okay then.”

  Gabe gave her a nod and turned to head out the door.

  ***

  Gabe’s eyes practically rolled back in his head as he bit into the delectable doughnut. Being a food writer, he’d tasted some amazing things in his day, but Sugar Cove Bakery had to have the best doughnuts ever. He’d always enjoyed Charlie’s doughnuts as a boy, and it seemed Charlotte had her father’s touch. And on an uncharacteristically bold whim, he’d asked her out. It was shaping up to be a good morning.

  He wondered what had made him do it. He had been feeling so free after strolling down the beach that morning, watching the water gently roll up the sand. He had only returned home for the summer a couple of weeks ago, but he’d been holed up writing to meet a deadline. The deadline had finally passed; he’d taken the morning to relax. And that had led him to Sugar Cove Bakery for a well-earned reward.

  He’d noticed Charlotte before, even looked for her on occasion. She was beautiful, with curly brown hair and the same dark, lively eyes her father had. But it was more than her beauty. Whenever he saw her, she had a driven energy about her, like she could conquer a village if given the opportunity. Perhaps he was drawn to her because she focused her energy on food. It was refreshing to watch someone who had a clear appreciation for creating edible masterpieces.

  Gabe pulled his car into the parking lot of the local bookstore, willing himself to stop thinking of Charlotte. Instead, he began to think about the lemon crème he’d devoured. The crème had been rich and tart and surrounded by a light, fluffy pastry sprinkled in powdered sweetness. He made a point to try a new pastry every time he visited the bakery, but he had a soft spot for their doughnuts. Today he would write up his review of Sugar Cove’s finest and send it off to his editor.

  He stepped out of his car, laptop under his arm, coffee in hand. He was already writing the review in his head as he recalled the sweet and tart mixing in his mouth.

  Chapter 2

  “Sugar beets,” Charlotte exclaimed as she took two flattened loaves of bread from the oven.

  Mary Ellen poked her head in the back. “Sugar beets?” she snorted.

  Charlotte dropped the pans into the oversized utility sink. “I don’t know what’s wrong with my head today.” She set about grabbing two pans at a time, tossing them into the sink with the others. “That’s the second batch I’ve screwed up. I’ll never get to the Smith’s cake at this rate. Would you start some yeast?”

  “I can do that,” Mary Ellen answered.

  As Mary Ellen prepared the yeast, Joel, manned the cash register, came to the back with a coffee in his hand. Although Joel was his real name, the mayor had given him the nickname of Peaches after he had made headlines in the local newsletter for picking twenty-seven bushels of peaches in one day.

  “We just got a pickup order for three-pound cakes,” Joel said as he took a sip from his drink.

  Charlotte mumbled as she flung cups of flour into a large mixer causing clouds of white to billow around her face.

  Mary Ellen looked to Charlotte from the sides of her eyes, then turned her attention back to stirring the yeast in warm water. “What is with you today?”

  “I …” Charlotte reached across the island counter to grab the salt. “A man asked me out this morning.”

  Mary Ellen froze, her eyes locking on Charlotte.

  “Who?” Mary Ellen asked.

  “Gabe Ryan,” she answered as she counted out scoops of salt.

  Mark Ellen’s face broke into a smile as she whooped. “Seriously?”

  Charlotte put the back of her wrist to her forehead. “What have I done?”

  Mary Ellen hesitated as if something just occurred to her. “Tell me you said yes.”

  Charlotte snatched the yeast from Mary Ellen and flung it into the mixer. “I said yes,” she groaned. “I shouldn’t have.”

  “Are you kidding me? Honey, he’s so handsome,” Mary Ellen swooned. “Of course you should have said yes.”

  Joel snickered and left the girls to go back to the front.

  “No, really… I need to test that new recipe. The peach pie doughnuts.” Charlotte took a deep breath.

  “And that man loves food,” Mary Ellen added as she clapped her hands together, ignoring Charlotte’s feeble attempt to find an excuse to cancel.

  “Who doesn’t?” Charlotte asked, too distraught with herself to be curious as to why Mary Ellen was bringing up an obvious point.

  “He’s a food writer, you know. I looked him up once. I love it when customers pay with a card instead of cash. It helps me memorize their
names when I see it in writing.” Mary Ellen squeezed her hands together with glee. “Oh, I bet he’ll take you somewhere fancy. When’s the big night?”

  “Tonight,” Charlotte answered before switching on the mixer. The blessed noise made it impossible to talk, which she appreciated at the moment. She regretted spilling the beans to Mary Ellen. She regretted saying yes to Gabe. And most of all, Charlotte regretted not paying more attention as she was mixing up the bread dough. She switched off the mixer.

  “Did you add the baking soda?” Mary Ellen asked.

  Charlotte stopped and mumbled.

  Mary Ellen smiled. “You like him.”

  “I don’t even know him,” Charlotte said as she hurled the baking soda into the mixer. She switched it on again and blew a wisp of hair from her face.

  When she turned the mixer off, Mary Ellen said, “This will be so good for you. How long has it been since you’ve been out?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve been out since …”

  Mary Ellen gasped and put a hand to her mouth. “Since Todd?”

  Charlotte pulled globs of dough out from the mixer onto a pristine, floured surface. She punched at the dough more aggressively than she needed to. “Yes. Since Todd.”

  Todd was Charlotte's ex-fiancé. Day after day, Charlotte spent her time talking, baking, and decorating wedding cakes. She was an expert in buttercream ruffles, rosettes, and ribbons, could sculpt doves from fondant, but her personal matrimonial aspirations were nonexistent. And she wanted it that way. Todd had inspired her aversion to her own wedding fantasies. She had had almost one month of planning excitement before he’d told her he had met someone else on a business trip and was moving to Canada. The one thing that had kept her from wallowing in self-pity was that her father had seemed relieved by the news. He didn’t even try to hide it. He’d never liked Todd.

  “Bless your heart,” Mary Ellen exclaimed, “Do you have any idea what you’ll wear? Do you own anything besides chef coats and aprons?”

  “Ha. Ha.”

  Charlotte molded the dough into loaves and plopped them into clean pans as Mary Ellen came behind her and covered them with damp towels so the bread would rise.

  “I don’t know what I’ll wear. He’s picking me up here.”

  “Here?” Mary Ellen repeated.

  Charlotte threw her hands in the air. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “You’ll look like …” Mary Ellen looked her up and down. “That.”

  “I’ll go home at lunch and grab something to change into.”

  “Wear something green. It’ll go with your eyes. No, red. Most men like red.” Mary Ellen’s eyes lit up. “Red is the way to go. And live a little. Show some off those gorgeous legs and wear some heels.”

  “Mary Ellen.”

  “Well, then again maybe not," Mary Ellen continued. "You shouldn’t shave your legs. Especially not for such a dashing man like Gabe Ryan.”

  “What are you talking about?” Charlotte questioned her. Upon seeing the gleam in Mary Ellen’s eyes, she was immediately sorry she'd asked.

  “If you don't shave your legs it'll stop you from misbehaving.” Mary Ellen raised her eyebrows up and down. “I thought everyone knew that. It's the oldest trick in the book when you don't want to give in the first night.”

  Charlotte threw a wadded, wet towel at Mary Ellen who shrieked in response.

  Joel peeked into the back. “Coco Moss is here.” He promptly disappeared.

  “Oh Lord, help us,” Mary Ellen said to no one in particular.

  Charlotte’s eyes snapped to the clock on the wall. “Of course she is early,” she muttered, hurriedly wiping her hands down the front of her apron. “Can you please bring out the sample platter for us and then start those pound cakes, Mary Ellen?” She didn’t wait for a response as she pulled off her apron and quickly hung it from a hook by the door.

  Charlotte smoothed down her hair before entering the front and greeted Coco with a warm smile. “Coco, so good to see you.”

  “Oh, I’m just such a mess today.” Coco returned Charlotte’s hug and went on talking in a rush. “The photographer said he’d come an hour early to do the bridal shots at the lake, but then forgot and said he couldn’t make it until a half hour before the ceremony and I’m sure it’s too late to find another photographer who can actually deliver on his promises. And we haven’t even picked a florist yet. Here I am-“ she sat abruptly across from Charlotte who was opening a fat binder, “-finally getting to try some cake and my fiancé couldn’t get away from work.”

  Coco was the type who loved to use the word fiancé whenever possible and always said it with a little extra weight. She was the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in town, a plantation owner named Jack Moss. This meant that Coco’s opinion of Sugar Cove Bakery would be known far and wide.

  “Well, I can give you some samples to take with you, that’s no trouble,” Charlotte said as she softly pressed down the pages of her notebook.

  Coco looked at her as if she was seeing her for the first time. “Oh that won’t be necessary,” she said flippantly.

  Mary Ellen brought out the sample platter and laid it in front of the two women. “If it pleases your highness-”

  Charlotte looked at Mary Ellen sharply, but Coco was distracted by the enormous, old-fashioned silver platter full of different flavors of cake in front of her.

  “I can get you two some sweet tea?” Mary Ellen forced a smile.

  Charlotte smiled while giving her a pointed look. “That would be great, Mary Ellen, thank you.” She turned to Coco who had already dabbed a finger into some strawberry cream cheese icing. “Coco? Would you like some sweet tea?”

  “I’d love some,” Coco answered. “Oh, but could you make sure the glass is completely full of ice before you pour the tea? I like it very cold.” She smiled briefly at Mary Ellen, then checked her phone as she swiped another dollop of frosting.

  Mary Ellen rolled her eyes before walking towards the back.

  “Now, did you bring any pictures of cakes you like?” Charlotte asked.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” Coco swept open her oversized designer bag and dug deep into its depths. “Here they are.” She pulled out a huge wad of magazine clippings and pictures of wedding cakes.

  Charlotte somehow managed to keep herself from rubbing at a headache that was beginning to throb.

  Chapter 3

  “Six tiers?" Charlotte took a deep breath.

  “Can you do seven?” Coco asked.

  “Seven tiers,” Charlotte corrected as she scribbled in her notebook. “And you want three different fillings throughout - strawberry cream cheese, coffee mousse, and lemon curd.”

  “Maybe the whipped cream too,” Coco added.

  Charlotte felt sweat forming on her brow. She’d spent the rest of the morning and all of her lunch break with Coco going over the cake design. Coco had brought nearly seventy pictures of wedding cakes. She’d asked Coco to choose her top ten cakes and explain what she liked about each picture, but Coco kept changing her mind. Worst of all, the cakes Coco was drawn to had no discernable theme. Each cake was unique, not giving Charlotte any ideas. Charlotte had saved picking the flavors for last, assuming that it would be the easiest task, but Coco was proving her wrong.

  “I’d like another taste of the red velvet.” Coco checked her phone, while she dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “Oh, and the whipped filling too.”

  Charlotte forced a smile. “I’ll go get that and some more napkins.” She stood up, her backside aching from sitting in the same spot for so long.

  Mary Ellen had long since abandoned them, whatever traces of patience she had for Coco had gone.

  Joel gave Charlotte a solemn mock salute as she passed him to go to the back. Despite being tired, she smirked.

  Mary Ellen was in the middle of frosting cupcakes, a large cup of sweet tea close by. “Has the Duchess made her selection?”

  “No.” Charlotte sighed, pul
ling open the refrigerator to retrieve fresh samples. “And they’ve moved the ceremony to next week.”

  Mary Ellen stopped in the middle of a rosette, her mouth hanging open. “I thought it was in August?”

  Charlotte headed to the storage room. She switched on the light and put her hand to her chest as she surveyed the floor. It was strewn with shards of napkins.

  “What on earth?” She bent down to examine the damage but could find any clues as to what had made the mess. She rubbed at her forehead and then hunted for a bag of napkins that hadn’t been hit. Thankfully, she found one.

  Napkins in hand, Charlotte headed back to Mary Ellen. “They’re taking an extra month to go to Cancun.”

  “Must be nice,” Mary Ellen grumbled.

  “It’s not like a couple of months was much time anyway. It won’t make that much of a difference for me.” Charlotte tried to console herself as she tucked the napkins under her arm so she could carry the cake samples.

  The truth was, it would make a difference. It was the middle of June, prime wedding season. Charlotte wasn’t sure how she was going to work Coco’s mammoth of a cake into her lineup. If Coco ever did decide on a cake, that is.

  But she’d overbooked herself before and had gotten through it. Never saying no to a client was a tradition as old as the bakery itself. Charlotte's father used to talk about breaking her Grandpa’s, and even her Great Grandpa’s records, and now she was part of the tradition. There were annual sales records for doughnuts, loaves of their famous apple cinnamon bread, and of course, wedding cakes. She still hadn’t broken her father’s record for wedding cakes, but she tried every year. That man had been a machine. Although she’d broken his doughnut record her first year as sole owner. Charlotte had channeled her grief over his loss into her work.