by Lynn Cooper
Doughnut Darlin’
Lynn Cooper
Copyright © 2015 Lynn Cooper
All rights reserved.
I’ll have whatever Doughnut Darlin’ there’s havin.’
—Ronan Dark
THE LITTLE DOUGHNUT SHOP located in downtown Erman, South Carolina was empty except for Raven Shore and the shop’s elderly owners—Irvin and Sally Dimsdale. Raven was sitting on a barstool at the counter, nursing her third cup of coffee. She loved this time of day. The quiet mid-morning hours between the breakfast and lunch crowd were ideal for writing. Since leaving her childhood home six months ago, Raven had practically spent every waking hour at The Little Doughnut Shop. She felt comfortable there. It was the perfect place for her to pursue her dream of becoming an author. Irvin and Sally had become surrogate parents to her. They were just the sort of people she needed right now. She was extremely fond of them and enjoyed helping them out during the peak times. The Dimsdales paid her in free coffee and all the doughnuts she could eat.
Given Raven’s current weight, the last thing she needed was an endless supply of pastries. But, what the hell? She couldn’t worry about a few extra pounds. She had a problem that was much bigger than the size of her ass. Trouble and danger was hot on her heels. Staying safe was her main priority.
A miniature cowbell dangled from a string of yarn above the entrance to the shop. It was an old-timey method—one fitting of a mom-and-pop establishment. When the door was opened, the metal rim clanked against the glass pane, alerting them to incoming customers.
With her nose buried deep in her laptop, the jangling of the bell startled Raven. She jerked her head up so quickly, it made her momentarily dizzy. Attempting to regain her equilibrium, she stood, then swayed and sat back down again.
Her face burned hot as the lone customer chuckled—a deep, sexy resonating sound that made her feel even weaker in the knees than she already was.
She was mortifyingly embarrassed and wanted to crawl beneath the checkered tiles on the floor. Instead, all she could do was stare into the prettiest blue eyes she had ever seen. It didn’t hurt that they were sparkling from a face so handsome it should be illegal.
Raven found it hard to catch her breath when he spoke to her. His voice was a soothing, sexy, panty-melting baritone. It flowed like warm honey from his full, masculine lips. The five o’clock shadow adorning his strong, square jaw only added to his appeal.
“Take it easy there, darlin.’ No need to get your doughnuts in a jumble.”
Before she could find her voice, Sally came out from the back where all the baking took place. For a second, she glanced disapprovingly at the man standing in front of the counter then quickly seemed to regain her composure.
“What can I get for you, young man?”
Raven’s heart fluttered erratically when he turned his gaze in her direction, settling his eyes on the plate of pastries beside her laptop.
“I’ll have whatever Doughnut Darlin’ there’s havin.’” He gave Raven a wicked wink. “Let me guess—the long, cream-filled one is your favorite.”
Sally’s hand flew to her chest. “Why, I never!”
He smiled, flashing rows of perfect, bright-white teeth. “No, ma’am, I’m sure you haven’t.”
Raven spoke up, feeling the need to intervene and defend the older woman. From what exactly, she wasn’t sure.
“Sally, why don’t I take care of this gentleman while you go glaze the crullers?”
The older woman nodded and scurried off.
A devil-may-care look crossed the hot customer’s face as he leaned his arm against the display case. Of course, he had yet to buy anything, so technically he was just a drop-dead gorgeous man who obviously took pleasure in getting the opposite sex all flustered. And, in her estimation, he was doing a damn good job of it.
He was close enough for Raven to catch his scent. It was heavenly. This man smelled liked freshly mowed grass on a spring day. It was an earthy, masculine cleanliness that made her want to inhale deeply.
He cleared his throat loudly. For the second time in a matter of minutes, he startled her.
“You told Sally you’d take care of me,” he said. A sensual huskiness tinged his voice. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
Raven placed her hands on the countertop to steady herself. This whole situation was surreal. In the last six months, no one had ever patronized The Little Doughnut Shop at this time of day. And certainly not anyone who looked and smelled as good as this man.
His body could have been chiseled from stone. The tight, black T-shirt tantalizingly stretched across his muscular chest made her light-headed. His jeans were faded and worn, molding themselves to slender hips and powerful thighs. It was a titillating ensemble if ever she had seen one. For the finishing touches, he wore black leather biker boots. They screamed bad boy loud enough to burst her eardrums.
“Well, we have a wide variety of sweet treats. What’s your pleasure?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “What’s yours?”
Raven refused to play into his coarseness, choosing to take the high road instead.
Smiling, she said, “I pretty much like every kind of doughnut known to man. I definitely have a sweet tooth.”
His eyes darkened, roaming over her body. “You definitely have a sweet ass.”
Her face flamed with anger. “Listen, Mr.—”
“Dark. Ronan Dark.”
Did he seriously just introduce himself in a James Bond fashion?
“Fine, Mr. Dark. If you aren’t interested in doughnuts, perhaps you should leave. I don’t have time to stand around and chew the fat. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
He held his hands up. “Fair enough. One last thing before I go; if you ever want to trade that sugar rush for a real one, just say the word.”
Raven knew she shouldn’t respond. Encouraging him would be a bad idea. But she found herself drawn to him. To the darkness she sensed in his soul. His name definitely fit him. Ronan Dark might be the darkest man she had ever met.
“What do you have in mind?” Raven asked before she could stop herself.
“A ride on my bike. At night. Under the stars.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think—”
“Yes you will. Nonstop. It’s all you’ll think about until you see me again, then you’ll beg me to take you for that ride.”
He turned on his heel, leaving Raven with the ringing of a cowbell in her ears.
RONAN NEARLY LAID HIS Harley flat to the asphalt as he took a hard, sharp turn into the Step Back Inn motel parking lot. He’d been holed up in the rundown flea bag for a week. It had taken him four days to track Raven Leigh Shore to The Little Doughnut Shop. He had spent the last three days staking it out, following her comings and goings. For the life of him, he couldn’t reconcile the gorgeous, curvy woman he had met moments ago with the one so rudely depicted by Alan Shore.
The man had described Raven as a no-good, gobby-fat, thieving bitch. From where Ronan was standing, she seemed like a lovely, upstanding human being. She spent most of her time at the shop with that elderly couple or alone in her tiny apartment. She had shown a sweet, protective side when he had spoken coarsely to the old woman. And, Raven had maintained her dignity in the face of his overtly flirty behavior and sexual innuendos. As far as he could see, she was beautiful on the inside and outside.
Knowing these things caused him a great dilemma. Mr. Shore had hired him to find Raven and bring her to him. And damn it, Ronan needed the money bad. But after observing the young woman and interacting with her, he couldn’t in good conscience hand her over to an obvious liar. If the man had been deceptive about what Raven was
like, the reasons he gave for wanting her back were most likely lies as well.
For the time being, he would keep her location a secret. There was always two sides to every story, and he wanted to hear hers.
Stretching out on a threadbare comforter covering the lumpy, twin-sized bed in his single-unit motel room, he grabbed the remote and flipped on the television. The only decent thing about the Step Back Inn was unlimited cable access. He had been dying to binge watch all seven seasons of Mad Men.
He laughed to himself. That’s what he was—a madman—for taking this job.
A DUPLEX FOR COLLEGE students was the last place Raven thought she would call home. Row after row of economy-sized apartments crammed beneath the low-roofed brick buildings somehow offered her a sense of security. But, truthfully, she wasn’t safe anywhere. It would only be a matter of time before her stepdad found her.
Alan Shore was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. When he had married her mom—Lana—Raven was just ten years old, and Alan constantly doted on her. A short six months into the marriage, he sweetly and generously offered to adopt her. His gesture sent Raven and Lana over the moon. After Raven’s biological father had abandoned them, running off with his big-breasted secretary, they were crushed. Neither had dared to dream they would ever be part of a whole family unit again.
One weekend, Lana’s best friend Gail had convinced her to tag along on a speed-dating venture. Raven’s mom had no expectations that a session of brief, one-on-one meetings with the opposite sex would result in anything lasting. To her great surprise, a handsome, well-mannered business man took her breath away. When the bell rang, signaling the end of their two-minute round, they ditched the session and went for a cup of coffee. Their three-month whirlwind romance ended at an all-night wedding chapel in Las Vegas.
The marriage seemed solid, and everything was grand until Lana fell ill. She was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer on Raven’s eighteenth birthday. The news was devastating. The world stopped spinning and future plans were put on hold.
For two excruciating years, Lana fought the good fight. She underwent a radical mastectomy and what seemed like endless rounds of radiation and chemotherapy. She lost the battle two days after her daughter turned twenty.
Sitting on the sofa in her apartment, Raven recalled how wonderfully strange the last day with her mother had been. How, for that one day, Lana had been lucid. How she had appeared perfectly healthy, almost radiant. The cancer had taken a terrible toll on her mind. At that point, Raven had lost any hope of ever having another normal conversation with her mother. Lana was on high-powered doses of morphine. For weeks she refused to eat and had been incoherent, slipping in and out of consciousness. But their last morning together, Lana woke up smiling. She was bright-eyed and spoke with clarity.
Raven’s eyes misted as she recollected their conversation.
Lana had clapped her frail hands together and squealed with delight. “Happy Birthday, my sweet girl! I have a wonderful surprise for you!”
Raven had been dozing in a recliner on the other side of the room. The sound of her mother’s voice jolted her awake faster than any expresso ever could. She jumped up quickly, making her way to the bed. Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, she squeezed her eyes shut hard and opened them again. She wanted to make sure they were focusing correctly and not playing tricks on her. Was it possible that her mother was really sitting up, talking to her?
Raven leaned forward, gathered Lana in her arms and gave her a gentle hug. “Whatever the surprise is, it can’t be any better than this. Oh Mama, I love you so much.”
Lana patted her cheek. “I know you do. You’re a good girl. That’s why I want to make sure you’re well taken care of when I’m gone.”
“I’ll be fine, Mama. Don’t use precious energy worrying about that. Let’s talk about more pleasant things, okay?”
“Knowing you have plenty of money to live on is a very pleasant thing for me, Raven. Now do as I say.” Pointing toward the far right corner of the room, she said, “Slide the chifforobe a few feet to the left.”
Raven furrowed her brows. Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach. She had so hoped her mother could stay clear a little longer. “It’s all right, Mama. Just close your eyes and rest now.”
Lana gave her daughter an impatient look. “Raven Leigh Shore, as long as there is breath in my body, you will do as I say.”
Raven’s eyes bulged. “Yes, ma’am.”
Putting all her weight—a considerable amount by that time—behind the huge piece of furniture, she gave it a good shove to the side. Since her mother’s shocking, tragic diagnosis, Raven had packed on a lot of pounds. She had been eating away her stress by consuming large amounts of comfort foods. She had also been trying to make herself less attractive to Alan. During Lana’s illness, he had become overly attentive to Raven, giving her creepy, lustful looks. And his hugs had become far too intimate.
“That’s my good girl,” Lana crooned. “Now roll the rug back and lift the trap door.”
Raven sucked in a sharp breath. They had been living in this house for ten years, and this was the first she had heard of any trap door. She did as her mother instructed. Sitting twelve inches below the floor’s surface was a grey metal box. It looked like a fat brief case.
Raven lifted it by the handle. It was heavy. Carefully extracting it from its hiding place, she carried it to the bed and placed it on the mattress beside her mother. Upon closer inspection, Raven could see it was locked. With a sad look, she said, “We can’t open this, Mama. I don’t have a key.”
Lana grinned sheepishly and grabbed the extra pillow behind her head. Unzipping the inner cover, she pulled out a tiny silver key with short, jagged teeth and handed it to Raven. “I think this one should do the trick. Give it a go, kiddo.”
Excitedly, Raven took the key from Lana’s trembling fingers. Sticking it into the tiny slot, she gently turned it. When it clicked, the lid popped open like a jack in the box, making her squeal and jump. She looked at her mama’s beautiful, expectant face, and they both burst out laughing. Then Lana’s laughter died down, and she spoke softly. “Over the years I managed to put back a little money here and there, and I lucked up on some good investments. I also sold all the jeweled heirlooms my grandma gave me. What’s in that box is for you, my sweet girl.”
Tears formed at the corners of Raven’s eyes. “Oh Mama, this is too much. I can’t take this. What about Alan? What does he have to say about it?”
Lana’s voice was strong and insistent. “You can and you will. There’s five-hundred thousand dollars in that box. All of it is for you. For you to live your life away from Alan.”
Raven wondered just how much her mother knew about Alan’s recent misconduct.
As if reading her mind, Lana said, “I’m not blind, Raven. I’ve kept a close eye on Alan since I got sick. I noticed how he was always sneaking glances at you when he thought I wasn’t looking. But I wasn’t worried about him acting on anything as long as he was in my bed. Once I got too ill to—well, to take care of his needs, I knew all bets were off. Why do you think I‘ve insisted on you sleeping in here with me for these last two years?”
Raven blushed. “I thought you needed me close by because you were so sick.”
Lana smiled and patted her daughter’s arm. “I did need you, but I also needed to protect you. Once I’m gone, there won’t be any stopping your stepfather. He’ll try to make his fantasies a reality. That’s why you have to go right away. I’ve sent him on an errand that should take most of the day. I wanted you to have time to gather your things.”
Tears streamed down Raven’s cheeks. “No, Mama, I don’t want to leave you. I‘ll go after your funeral.”
Lana shook her head; the energy and vibrancy of moments ago were fading fast. “That will be too late, my sweet girl. You must go now. Pack a few belongings, then call yourself a cab. I’d give you my car, but Alan would report it stolen and have the police track it down.”
“Anywhere you want, baby. Just be happy when you get there.”
Raven leaned down and gave Lana a long, bittersweet hug.
When she raised up, Lana placed her hand on her daughter’s cheek. “I want you to do two things for me.”
“I’ll do anything for you, Mama.”
“Not for me, for you. I want you to tell stories, Raven. Lots of beautiful, romantic ones. Write books that will make the whole world read.”
“You know about my writing?”
Smiling, Lana said, “Yes. When you thought I was sleeping, I was really watching your fingers fly across that keyboard.”
“I promise I’ll write every day. What was the second thing?”
Lana took a deep, thoughtful breath. “Don’t pick a present by its wrapping. Pretty paper on the outside doesn’t mean there’s a good gift on the inside.”
Raven furrowed her brows, fearing that her mother’s lucidity was fading. “I’m sorry, Mama; I don’t follow.”
“Just because a man wraps himself in proper manners and a fine suit doesn’t mean he’s a gentleman.”
Raven understood. Her mother was saying you couldn’t judge a man by his outward façade. Alan had come with a nice wrapping, but he was ugly on the inside. He had fooled them both.
The memory of that last day with her mama had drained Raven. She stretched out on the sofa, covering herself with the Afghan Lana had knitted for her when she turned sixteen. Raven drifted off to sleep, dreaming about a man with rough edges, bad manners and black leather boots.
RONAN DARK SNATCHED THE vibrating cell phone from the pocket of his leather jacket. He had been dreading this call for days. He didn’t have to look at the caller ID to know who it was. Reluctantly, he answered. “Mr. Shore, what can I do for you?”
“Bring my fucking daughter to me ASAP, asshole.”
Ronan clenched the phone so hard he could feel the frame cracking. If he didn’t loosen his grip, he would crush the small device, rendering it useless.
“No can do.” More accurately, no will do. He braced himself for the verbal attack that was sure to come.
