by Kira Archer
Thank you for bringing a little light into my life.
Franny Lambert
Nat blinked back tears. She’d always made it a point to stop in and say hi to Mrs. Lambert, usually bringing her a leftover cupcake or two after she’d finished selling for the day. She hadn’t realized it’d meant so much to the sweet old lady.
Nat had always done decent business, but the fees at the shared kitchen she rented and the parking fees at the depot were killing her profits. It took a lot of sales to keep her in the black. With this spot, she wouldn’t have the depot fee. And if she could rent some kitchen time from Eric, she’d be able to get some sleep instead of having to bake in the middle of the night (which, at the moment, was the only time she could get into the kitchen she time-shared). Plus, she would save herself from having to lug trays of cupcakes up and down three flights of stairs to her apartment in Mrs. Lambert’s old brownstone, where she had to store them until the next morning when she started selling.
Figuring out where to park her truck at night had been a constant source of anxiety. The depot she was in was pricey, crowded, and prone to vandals and break-ins. Her truck had been graffitied twice already. But she’d been determined to make it work. Her fears over her apartment, at least, had been alleviated with a letter from the new owner, a Mr. Schneider, Mrs. Lambert’s brother. And Eric’s father, apparently. He’d inherited the building with the stipulation that Nat got to keep her apartment at her current rent at least for the length of the new five-year lease she had just signed. And now, thanks to Mrs. Lambert, Street Cakes had a place to park its wheels at night. But what did Mrs. Lambert mean, starting something else, as well?
A tinge of suspicion trickled through her but before she could voice it, Gina grabbed her arms and jumped up and down, dragging Nat along with her. That was all it took to unleash the excitement that had been cautiously building inside her. They squealed like they hadn’t done since they were in high school. Nat knew they looked like complete dorks, but for once, she didn’t care. Her dreams had just possibly come true. Sometimes a little girly squee-fest was called for.
Male laughter froze Nat in her place. Her muscles clenched against the familiar flutter that hit her every time she saw him. By now she should have a rock-hard six-pack going on. At least then she’d get something out of this daily torture. And experiencing him up close was so much more intense than viewing him from afar through the window of her truck. Maybe he used that pheromone soap from those commercials. If he did, she was going to write up a ringing endorsement on Amazon. Because it was working.
Eric strolled over to her, standing a little closer than was socially comfortable. Nat’s body nearly purred.
“Hi.” She inwardly cringed at the lameness of that single syllable, especially since it made no sense for her to say it. But it was either that or let on how hot she was for him. And she’d rather carve out her own heart and hand it to him on a gilded platter than let him in on that little secret. At least for the moment. It had been a big enough day, as it was.
“Hi,” he said, his lips slowly stretching into a sexy smile that Nat could picture waking up to after a night of crazy sex. His blond hair was slightly damp. The sudden image of him naked and soapy in a steamy shower made Nat’s vision go fuzzy around the edges.
She bit her lip and focused on breathing. Gina leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Watch yourself, your orgasm is showing.”
Nat gasped, her heated cheeks making the bee sting throb anew.
Eric, his forehead creased in thought, turned to Mr. Davis. “So, despite the odd breakup of the property, there should be no impediment for me to reopen the bakery, is there?”
“The building is yours to do with as you’d like, Mr. Schneider.”
“What in the world are you going to do with a bakery?” Gina asked Eric.
Before he could answer, Jared butted in. “What she said. What the hell are you thinking?”
Eric shrugged. “I don’t know. I loved this place as a kid. It’d be a kick to start it up again.”
“You don’t even like cake,” Jared pointed out.
“You can sell more at a bakery than just cake. Maybe I could specialize in Italian pastries or something. I like those,” Eric said.
Jared snorted. “Sure.”
Nat couldn’t do more than stare at him as her dreams shattered with every word out of his mouth.
“Seriously?” Gina said. “No offense, but what are you doing thinking about selling Italian anything? You’re a blond guy named Schneider, for shit’s sake. Shouldn’t you be frying up crumpets or strudels or something?”
Eric chuckled. “Really? What does my name, or hair color, have to do with—”
“Ahem. If there are no further questions…for me,” the lawyer said, frowning at Gina. “I’ve got a meeting in the city.”
The lawyer slid the papers Eric had just signed into his briefcase, handed both Nat and Eric a card, in case they wanted to discuss selling their respective properties, and took himself out of the garage as fast as his Italian loafers could carry him.
Jared turned back to Eric. “Are you seriously thinking about opening this place up again?”
“Why not? I’ve wanted to start my own business for a while. I hadn’t thought of a bakery, but it would be a great investment. Especially if I already have the building and at least some of the equipment.”
“Yeah. You could. Except for the minor fact that you know absolutely nothing about baking. Like at all.”
Eric scratched his chin, rubbing a finger over the stubble cropping up on his skin. “It’s really not a bad idea,” Eric muttered to Jared. Nat narrowed her eyes at him but he ignored her and kept thinking out loud to his friend. “The biggest upfront expense of starting a business is always the basics. And if the basics are literally being gifted to me, I sure as hell don’t want to waste the opportunity.”
“You could just sell it off, use the money for something else,” Jared suggested.
“Maybe. I like the idea of building something of my own, though. And when is the next time I’ll have this kind of chance? It’s not every day someone just hands you everything you need to start up a business.”
Jared shrugged. “I still think a bakery is the wrong biz for you. Besides, you know your parents will flip if you turn baker boy.”
“They’d get over it.”
Jared snorted. “Whatever, man. They’d disown you in a heartbeat and that’s a lot of damn money to give up, just for a chance at being Betty Crocker.”
Nat stood watching them spitball back and forth, like she wasn’t even standing there. Another second of listening to them flushing her dream down the toilet and she was going to scream.
Eric didn’t answer for a minute, then shook his head. “Well, I guess they’ll just have to get used to the idea.”
Jared’s eyebrows rose and Eric grimaced at him. “I mean it. I couldn’t do what I really wanted and go to art school. And yeah, they might have had a point with that. Not many lucrative job opportunities in the art world. But this is something that might work for both of us. I can do something a little more along the lines of what I’ve always wanted to do. It’s not painting, but it’s creating, of a sort. And it’s a real business, something that my aunt was very successful at, so there’s every reason to believe I can make a success of it. My parents can hardly complain if I’m a successful business owner.”
“Yeah, I think they were thinking more Wall Street tycoon and less Martha Stewart.”
“Whatever. Martha Stewart is more successful than my dad will ever be. I could aspire to a lot worse things.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so. My aunt had this place hopping. She was a total self-made success and that’s something I’ve always wanted to do. Not that my dad hasn’t worked his ass off. But I’ve never had any real interest in his business. There’s just something appealing about actually building a business from the ground up. Dealing with the day-to-day stru
ggle of it. Being face-to-face with your customers. God, I can still smell the pastries my aunt used to have in this place. I’d love to resurrect it. I bet she’s got some recipes in her files somewhere. I could sell all the stuff she used to sell. Biscotti, cannoli, and oh my God, she made the best sfogliatelle. And we’ve got to do baklava too. I could eat that stuff for days.”
“Minor detail, dude. You have no fucking clue how to make any of that shit you just mentioned.”
Eric glanced over at Nat and she tried to clear her head of the buzz that had filled it since Eric had started spouting off, so she could hear what was coming out of his mouth.
“Maybe you could help me,” he said to her. “Just get it started, I mean. Maybe show me how to bake a few things. Can’t be too hard.”
Her mouth dropped open and Gina laid a hand on her arm, whether to comfort her or restrain her, she wasn’t sure.
“You can think about it for a minute, if you need to.”
“Gee, that’s big of you,” Gina said, glaring at him.
Eric ignored her. He and Nat were left staring at each other, each holding a newly signed stack of papers that branded them stuck together…unless one or the other could come up with a crap ton of cash. And Nat knew her position on that one.
Eric shoved his papers in his back pocket. The tip of the bundle caught his shirt and hiked it up a bit, exposing a sliver of skin just above the waist of his jeans. He wandered around her new parking spot. Nat’s eyes lingered on that smooth expanse of skin, momentarily thankful for his apparent love of soft, old jeans that sat low on his hips. If the cord of muscle she saw as he walked was any indication, Eric was hitting the gym fairly frequently. Realizing it had been quite a while since she’d been to the gym herself, she suddenly wished she hadn’t pounded down that cupcake quite so fiercely that evening.
“Well?” he said, turning around and catching Nat’s gaze on him. His lips twitched knowingly and Nat scowled, trying to will the blush out of her cheeks. It didn’t work.
“Well, you have the building, but I need the garage,” Nat pointed out.
Eric paused, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “Look, not to sound rude or anything, but why did my aunt leave something to you, especially something like this? How did you even know her?”
Nat’s eyes widened and she bit back her first defensive response. It was a reasonable question, she supposed. “She was my landlady. And my friend.”
“You were friends with your eighty-six-year-old landlady?”
“Yes, I was.” Her throat tightened.
Eric’s eyes narrowed, fixed on her as if he were trying to figure out if she were telling the truth. She held his gaze. She had nothing to hide. Visiting with old Mrs. Lambert had been a pleasure for Nat. She was going to miss her.
Finally, Eric gave a brief nod and looked around the garage again. “Well, I guess I’ll just buy you out then. How much do you want for it?”
“Hang on. First of all, according to the lawyer, spots like this can go for eighty grand, minimum.”
Eric’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me? It’s just a garage. Eighty grand—”
“Actually, more like twice that. At least. Eighty grand is apparently the going price for a regular parking spot. Not a whole garage. Which is irrelevant, because there is no way I’m selling. Sorry, but I need this spot.”
“Since I now own the building this garage is attached to, it makes sense that I own the garage, too.”
“That might make sense to you, but I don’t want to keep paying the crazy fees at the depot. I need this spot. I’m not selling.”
“Look, I have no idea what my crazy aunt was thinking of splitting the property up like this. But I’m sure I can get enough—”
Nat shook her head, all visions of smearing him head to toe in frosting quickly melting away. “Sorry. I need this spot more than I need the money.”
“Well…” He sighed and jammed his fingers through his hair, making the usually spiked tips of his faux hawk stick out in odd directions. “We can’t both use the spot.”
“I realize that.”
“Look, I know it would be more convenient for you to have a private parking spot, but if I’m going to restart this bakery, I need that garage. If I can offer expanded parking for my customers or even delivery, it would increase my chances of success—”
“Yeah, well, keeping the spot so I don’t have to pay the astronomical fees at the depot means a lot more than just convenience to me.” Nat took a deep breath, her anger building with every word out of his mouth. “Actually, I wanted to see if you’d consider renting the building to me, or at least some kitchen space to me for my prep work…”
“Except I plan on using that kitchen space for my bakery.”
“Your bakery that you just decided to open five minutes ago? Your bakery that you don’t have the first clue about operating?”
Eric folded his arms and Nat tried not to notice the way his biceps strained the seams of his soft cotton shirt. “Well, we’re right back where we started, aren’t we?”
Nat let a little smile peek out. “Looks like it.”
She stared at him, unable to think of anything else to say. She wasn’t going to back down. She needed this spot. He stared back at her, probably thinking the same thing. He needed it too…which meant they were sort of screwed. And not in the good way.
“You could share it.”
Nat, Eric, and Jared all turned to look at Gina, triplet expressions of surprise on their faces.
“And how exactly would that work?” Jared asked.
Gina turned to Nat and Eric. “Since neither one of you is willing, or able probably, considering the price, to sell, you don’t really have a choice. Maybe Nat can make your deliveries for you in exchange for some kitchen time. That way Nat doesn’t have to keep renting the shared kitchen she’s been using and you get to offer catering without having to get your own truck.”
Jared piped in his two cents. “And maybe she can teach you something about baking while she’s at it, since you really don’t have a clue.”
Eric shot him a dirty look but didn’t fight the suggestion. He opened his mouth like he was about to argue, but after a second he shut it, his forehead crinkling. Nat also tried to think of an argument against Gina’s idea. And failed. Sharing the garage and the kitchen would mean a lot more interaction with Eric, a thought that had her squirming at the thought of all the awkward encounters in her future. She ignored the part of her that was jumping for joy at their forced involvement. No good would come from letting that bit come out to play.
Nat met Eric’s gaze and after a moment he shrugged. “I’m game if you are. I haven’t got any other ideas.”
“I guess it could work. But if I’m out making deliveries for you, I won’t be operating my truck, which means I’m not making any money.”
“But you won’t be losing any money on parking fees either. And it’s not like you’d be in the bakery all the time. It probably won’t take long to show me what I need to know. I’m sure you can still run the truck, at least part time.”
“I can take a few more shifts for a while,” Gina offered.
“I guess…” Nat said, still not convinced she wasn’t getting the short end of the baguette.
“I won’t be catering every day. I was thinking of starting off slow, anyway, not catering really, just offering deliveries for larger purchases. And for those, I should have advance notice when I’ll need you. So I really shouldn’t be taking too much of your time. But just to sweeten your deal, how about I pay you for whatever time you spend making deliveries for me. In exchange for some crash course lessons in running a bakery.”
Nat slowly nodded. Kitchen time and payment for occasional deliveries in exchange for a few baking lessons. No depot or shared kitchen fees. “All right. Deal.”
“Well then.” He stuck his hand out and Nat stared at it for half a second before taking it. His skin was warm and smooth against her own and she resisted
the urge to close her eyes and wriggle in delight at being able to touch him again.
“Co-owners?” he said.
Nat nodded. “Co-owners. For now.”
“Mamma Mia” blared from his pocket again. He let go of her hand. “I better get that. We’ll work out the details later, okay?”
Nat nodded and watched him walk out the doors. Jared grunted. “Later.” Gina glared at him. But Nat caught the way her friend’s gaze lingered on his well-formed backside. She hid her smile. Gina could never resist a challenge. Neither could she, it seemed.
“Oh, and Nat,” Eric said, poking his head back around the corner.
Nat jumped. “Yeah?”
“You still owe me that dinner.” He gave her a crooked smile and ducked back out.
She didn’t realize she was smiling back until she caught Gina’s raised brow. Nat cleared her throat and looked down at her shoes.
“Well…this’ll be interesting,” she said.
Gina snorted. “Understatement of the year, my friend.”
Chapter Four
Eric rang Natalie’s buzzer and prayed she’d answer. He was nearly an hour late. He couldn’t help it, but still, making a bad impression with her was the last thing he wanted to do.
Instead of buzzing him in, she opened the door and stepped out on the stoop.
“You’re late.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” he said. “My parents were having drinks with a few prospective investors and insisted I be there. I left as soon as I could.”
Natalie’s forehead crinkled in a slight frown. “They have these really cool devices nowadays that allow you to call or even just send a message to someone instantaneously.”
Eric rolled his eyes. “Yes, Madam Sarcasm, I’m aware. My father has strict rules about keeping phones out of sight when schmoozing investors.”
“Daddy said no?” she asked, a slight smile on her lips. “All righty, then.”
