Dangerously Sweet

by Angela Evans

  “No, he’s not. You’re not going to lay a finger on him and neither is anyone else.” Growing up in the middle of six brothers, three older and three younger, she knew there were a few things she could always count on from them. They would always love her. They would always drive her just a little crazy. They would always have her back, but they would not actually go out of their way to do Jeffery bodily harm. At least that’s what she was counting on to be true.

  “When are you coming home?” Luke asked with a sigh.

  “My return flight ticket is for Sunday.” Since it was now Monday afternoon, that meant she had six full days to enjoy the beautiful beaches of Barefoot Bay.

  “Look, I know better than anyone you didn’t want to become the head chef at some hunting resort. You kind of got the short straw on that one. So if a week on the beach in Florida is what you need, then I say you should have it.”

  Suddenly Amelia had to blink a few times to clear her vision; it must be the salt air making her eyes tear, she decided. “I don’t know what will make me happy, but I’m hoping a little time, and a whole lot of space, can help me remember what used to make me happy.”

  There was a tentative knock at the door of the bungalow, and Amelia desperately hoped it was her luggage being delivered. Finally! She quickly got off the phone with her brother, promising to call at least once a day, and knowing she would keep that promise, she rushed towards the door.

  “What do you mean we don’t have a cake? Are you going to tell this particular—and I mean very particular—bride that her custom designed, five layer, ivory-not-white-icing cake isn’t going to happen?” The blonde, blue-eyed woman standing on the other side of her door was on the phone and obviously not too happy with whoever was on the other end. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she apologized to Amelia and then back into her phone said, “I’ll call you when I get back to the office.”

  “I’m so sorry, that was terribly rude. I am Willow, and I think I have something that will make you very happy!” With an exaggerated gesture, she pointed to the missing luggage, which looked like it may have fallen out of an airplane.

  “Wow, that poor thing has had a rough trip. Glad I wasn’t on that flight.” Amelia laughed, relieved beyond belief she could finally shower, put on clean clothes, and get to sightseeing on this beautiful beach. “Won’t you come in?” She pulled the door open wider and invited the other woman inside.

  “Oh sure, thanks! I can’t really stay, I’ve got fires to put out.” She gestured with the phone still in her hand.

  “Yeah, I gather you’re short a wedding cake?” Amelia asked, her imagination immediately picturing the cake she had described and how long she would have to bake, roll fondant icing, and decorate exactly such a cake.

  “I’m in charge of food and beverages at Barefoot Brides. We’re a destination wedding service, and that was the baker who is supposed to be delivering the cake for our wedding this week telling me it’s not gonna happen.” She puffed out a breath of frustration, sending her hair flying off her forehead.

  “How big of a cake?” Amelia asked, already starting to get a little bit excited. She didn’t have anything she would need to pull off a wedding cake, let alone something as elaborate as Willow described. But the challenge of baking and decorating something beautiful held more appeal and excitement for her than anything else she’d done in a very long time.

  “Five tiers.” Willow threw up her hands as if to say she was doomed.

  “Wow, that sounds like…fun!” It occurred to Amelia she sounded a lot like a kid on Christmas morning who just found a fantastic toy waiting under the tree.

  “Fun?” Willow made a face that said to her it sounded more like pure torture. “Honey, you need to redefine the meaning of the word fun.” She said it with a chuckle that took the sting out of the otherwise harsh words. Amelia knew she had found a new friend here in Barefoot Bay, someone who could go toe-to-toe with her in the sarcasm department.

  “I know, I’m sick and twisted, what can I say?” She joined in the laughter. “But seriously, I went to culinary school to be a pastry chef, but instead I ended up running a kitchen in my family’s lodge. I didn’t even realize it until you just mentioned the cake exactly how much I miss baking! I can’t tell you the last time I baked anything more interesting than cookies!” She threw up her own hands in disgust.

  “Hey, don’t go knocking cookies, now. They’ve helped me through many a lonely night. Or at least they used to be my coping mechanism, until I learned self-control and moderation.” She pointed at her trim waist to emphasize this was not a stomach that ate cookies anymore.

  “Self-control? And I need to redefine fun?” She smiled. “If I had the equipment I’d totally help you out. It honestly does sound like fun to me.”

  “Oh no, I’m not about to step in and ruin your Barefoot Bay vacation by making you bake a cake, especially not one this elaborate.” Willow considered her for a moment before adding. “But if you just won’t take no for an answer, come find me at the Barefoot Brides office later and we’ll see what we can do about finding you a kitchen.”

  After Willow said goodbye and left the bungalow, Amelia couldn’t stop thinking about their brief conversation. It wasn’t until right then she realized the source of her restless spirit the last few months. Her life was not at all following the carefully laid out plan she had for it. She was a planner. Yet somehow she was working at her family’s lodge, cooking for dozens every night instead of baking for the quaint little bakery she’d dreamed of opening in…well, anywhere that wasn’t Nowhere, Alaska.

  Dragging her much abused luggage to the bedroom and flopping it up on the bench located at the foot of the bed, she decided a shower was not what was in order. She was on vacation, in paradise, all alone. That called for doing things she would never do at home in a lodge full of guys, even if a half dozen of them were brothers. Shedding the white cotton robe she was wearing while at the same time grabbing her necessities, she headed for the luxury of the bungalow bathroom.

  Pinning her hair on top of her head, not caring that curls were spilling out in unrestrained chaos, she turned on her phone for music and rested it safely on the edge of the sink and then turned on the water to fill the massive jetted tub. A bubble bath was definitely something she wouldn’t do at the lodge. She dumped a healthy amount of something from the selection available in a basket near the edge of the tub and the room filled with the scent of jasmine.

  Sinking down into the warm water she sighed out loud at the luxuriousness of the entire thing. A whole bungalow to herself, space and privacy she sorely craved in her regular life. A scented bubble bath in a tub large enough she could probably do the backstroke if she wanted to was a treat she hadn’t even dreamed about in a very long time.

  The lodge was not exactly roughing it by Alaska standards, but it wasn’t filled with the luxuries a woman craved occasionally, either.

  She thought back to her conversation with Willow as she let the jets soothe her tired and aching muscles from traveling. When had she given up baking? When her parents passed away, was the all too obvious answer. She’d come home from culinary school determined to make the lodge a place she visited, not a place she stayed, but the airplane crash had changed all of that. Her family needed her, so she had stayed to take over her mother’s duties of managing the lodge’s kitchen. A few weeks turned into months, and before she knew it three years had passed her by.

  Now she was twenty-seven, had just called off her wedding, and run away from home to hide out on the beach in Florida.

  “See, this is what happens when I don’t follow the plan,” she muttered out loud to herself. She had planned to visit Casa Blanca on her honeymoon, not this solo, spontaneous runaway vacation.

  She loved her family, there was no question about that, but she didn’t love Alaska. Not the way they did. The boys, her brothers, had soaked in the Alaska life like it was born to them. When in fact, they’d all been born in the lower forty-eight, as the
locals called it, only moving to Alaska when Amelia was fifteen. After months of unemployment, facing eviction, and no job prospects, her parents had packed them all up and left Michigan for Alaska. Their savings had gone a lot farther in Alaska, and they’d been able to secure the lease on the lodge. After a few years her parents bought it. Amelia had enjoyed the lodge at first; it was like being on vacation and never having to leave…until the reality of how much work went into running a lodge that size set in. Homeschooling to finish high school meant no social life, no prom, no dating, and no boys at all. She’d stayed in touch with friends back home for a while, but eventually they’d all drifted away. Amelia had been lonely. Where her brothers had all had each other, Amelia had only the kitchen staff to talk to. By the time she was seventeen, her mother had trusted her to plan menus and oversee ordering supplies. But when Amelia had discovered baking, her heart had skipped a beat.

  How many times had she been scolded for wasting too many of their precious eggs to make a soufflé? How many times had she been told the lodge’s guests didn’t come all the way to Alaska to have gourmet cupcakes, or her other decadent desserts?

  Far too many.

  At eighteen, she’d left for college. That had taken way more convincing than it ever should have to get her parents to let her go. The fact she wanted to major in restaurant management and study at the culinary institute had convinced them she would return to the lodge and help make the kitchen yet another reason why people would travel to the frozen north to stay with them. The hunting, fishing, hiking, and the legendary Iditarod race had done plenty to bring in business. Being able to claim gourmet food would put them a step above the meager competition.

  Amelia had returned, as promised, intending to tell her parents and the rest of her family she was accepting a job in New York City.

  Closing her eyes Amelia let her head fall back against the edge of the luxurious tub. Tears squeezed out the corners of her eyes as she remembered that day. She’d never had a chance to tell anyone her plans; her parents had died in an airplane crash that afternoon when their Cessna hit turbulence and crashed into the mountain behind the lodge.

  She’d told her brothers after the funeral, and to say that hadn’t gone well had been an understatement. Under pressure and feeling guilty, she’d agreed to stay temporarily and run the kitchen in their mother’s place. Temporary had turned into years, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d baked anything at all.

  On an impulse, she stood up out of the tub, splashing water on the floor and for once not caring. Wrapping herself in a towel, she rushed to the phone in the kitchen. She called the kitchen of the resort and made her very unusual request, but after a moment of obvious confused hesitation the staff agreed to meet her needs.

  * * *

  The kitchen in her villa looked like it had suffered a small explosion, but she had successfully baked for three hours before she had run out of sugar, flour, and eggs. Once the chef of the resort had heard what she wanted to do, and what her training was, he’d even made sure she had the necessary supplies to pipe the icing onto the cakes and cupcakes she’d baked. She was pleased with how they turned out, but the true test would be a tasting. Willow had adamantly refused when Amelia had made the request to the Barefoot Brides office earlier. Apparently one bite of cupcake would mean more time spent running after work, and Willow could not be persuaded to break her hard and fast ‘no sweets’ rule, not even once.

  Acting on impulse had gotten her this far, so no reason to change the path now, Amelia reasoned. Grabbing a pan of cupcakes in one hand and the chocolate cake in the other, she headed out the door and down the beach, ignoring the curious looks she got on her way. She made good time and managed to arrive at Dex’s villa without getting a speck of sand in her perfect frosting.

  It wasn’t until she was standing on the front step that she realized she had no way to knock on the door. Pondering her dilemma for a moment, she decided if she tapped lightly on the door with her foot she should be able to get his attention without dropping anything.

  She tapped lightly on the bottom of the carved wooden door and waited, almost holding her breath in anticipation. When Dex came to the door with a puzzled expression on his face, she wasn’t nearly as concerned about that as she was the fact he was not wearing a shirt, and judging by the way his hair stood up at odd angles, she’d woken him up.

  “I need you to taste these,” she said in a rush.

  “Excuse me?” He scratched his bare chest with one hand, distracting her for a moment.

  “I need you to taste these and tell me the honest truth.” From behind Dex, Amelia heard voices. His villa was far bigger than the one she had rented and she remembered he was sharing with his family. Suddenly she felt awkward and unsure about barging in on him unannounced.

  “Dex? Who is it, dear?” A woman’s voice called from the back of the villa. Dex was enjoying her embarrassment a little too much. Amelia thought for a brief moment about accidentally smashing one of the cupcakes in Dex’s handsome face to get that smirk off it.

  “Amelia, Mom. You remember Amelia, right?” Dex was grinning like he could read her mind. At least this time when she’d meet Dex’s mother she was dressed, not wearing a bathrobe and wet underwear. “Don’t smash the cake in my face. I would hate for all your hard work to go to waste. Come inside.” He pulled on her elbow and led her into the house. Taking the cake out of her hand and lifting an eyebrow at her as if to say, Would you really have smashed this in my face?

  “Oh yes, Amelia. The girl you were kissing who is not your girlfriend because you don’t have time for a girlfriend. You’re too busy doing, whatever it is you do,” his mother scolded him.

  “Mom,” Dex hushed his mother with a dirty look.

  Amelia wondered what the conversation had been after they’d left her place. She’d have to remember to ask Dex when they were alone.

  As they entered the kitchen, Amelia realized not only was his mother there, but two other women were seated at the breakfast bar. One had platinum blonde hair down to her waist, while the other was her mirror image with jet black hair that curled softly around her face. Both were gorgeous, but in completely opposite ways. Amelia felt mousy and out of place with her frizzy red hair and no curves underneath her clothes to speak of.

  “Amelia, you remember my mother Patrice, and these are my sisters Francine, and Naomi.” Dex gestured as he put her cake on the counter, and then took the tray of cupcakes from her and did the same. “Amelia would like our honest opinions on these.” He pointed to the baked goods like he didn’t know what to call them.

  “Oh my God, that cake looks sinful,” the blonde sister cooed from her place at the counter.

  “Oh, thank you.” Amelia soaked in the compliment. “It’s a dark chocolate ganache with a white chocolate cake. The cupcakes are dark chocolate with a raspberry filling and vanilla butter cream frosting. “I would love if you’d taste each one and tell me honestly if you like them.”

  “I can already tell you I like them,” the second sister practically groaned.

  “Which one of these has powdered sugar in it?” Dex asked with a sexy smile on his face.

  “Why?” Amelia asked suspiciously.

  “Because you have a little powdered sugar on the end of your nose,” he chuckled. “And a little chocolate on the tip of your elbow.”

  Amelia twisted her arm around to try and see her own elbow and sure enough, there was a glob of chocolate ganache on her right elbow. “I’m a messy baker. When I baked in school I had to learn to keep the mess to a minimum, but in my own kitchen I kind of just let the mess happen.” She smiled back at him. Flirting, she’d forgotten what that felt like she realized. She had never actually flirted with Jeffery; she’d gone out with him because he asked, and she hadn’t wanted to be rude. She’d been lonely and he was there. Dating him had been easy, and convenient, so she went along with it. Flirting was fun…she’d forgotten that the last few years. Apparently she’d
forgotten a lot of things.

  “Taste a cupcake,” she urged him and even picked one up and handed it to him.

  “You don’t have to ask me twice. Sweets are a weak point for me.” Dex took a huge bite of her cupcake and raspberry filling oozed out down his chin. He groaned in delight with his eyes closed and his head tipped back. It was the sexiest thing Amelia had seen in far too long, she decided.

  “I’m going for the cake,” Naomi announced as she got up and started opening drawers and cabinets in search of a knife and some plates.

  “Me too,” their mother chimed in as a man wandered into the kitchen. “Marco, this is Amelia. She’s staying down the beach. She wants us to taste her delicious cakes and tell her whether we like them or not. Do you want cake or cupcakes?”

  Amelia quickly realized Patrice was a whirlwind. Before anyone else had a chance to do much of anything she had plates, forks, a knife, and even coffee cups set out for all of them. Naomi had quietly backed out of the kitchen and resumed her perch on the stool.

  Cake was sliced and plates were passed around. Dex accepted a slice, even though he still had half a cupcake in his hand. “Don’t you worry, I’m finishing that, but I don’t want to miss the cake.”

  Amelia accepted a cup of coffee, but refused to taste any of the cakes until everyone had sampled them. “I wanted to do a lemon, or something citrus—I mean we’re in Florida—but I didn’t want to bug the chef to send me over different ingredients.” She talked out of nervousness. The room was so silent, everyone had their mouths full of cake.

  “Girl, I don’t know why you look nervous. This cake is the most delicious thing I have ever eaten!” Francine gushed at her.

  “You do look nervous,” Dex agreed. “Why don’t you taste it for yourself.” Without warning, he pushed a bite of the cupcake he had left on his plate towards her and she opened her mouth in instinct. The soft butter cream frosting melting on her tongue and the moist cake were both delicious, but it was clear the raspberry filling was the star of that show. Rich and tangy, the raspberries were the perfect contrast to the decadent, chocolatey cake. The butter cream may be the best frosting she’d ever made, she thought to herself as she savored the small bite.