Wild Western Women Spring Into Love: A Western Historical Romance Box Set

by Kirsten Osbourne

  Cara walked away from her father and sat at the table. "We saw her in town yesterday when Luca took me to my piano lesson. She seems really nice, and I do think my brother is a little enchanted by her."

  A smile spread across Franco's face. He'd thought the same thing when he'd witnessed Bella and Luca talking. From what he could see, she would be a great match for his son. She loved to bake and maybe she could convince Luca to open the bakery. Oh, to be working amongst the flour and yeast again.

  "What makes you think your brother likes this girl?"

  "The way his eyes sparkle when he talks to her and how he can't seem to take his gaze off her. He just seems to watch her and forget that anyone else is around. It kind of reminded me of the way you and Mama used to act."

  "God rest her soul," Franco said, his heart banging with longing for his lost wife. She would know exactly what to do in this situation with their son. She could say the perfect thing that would make his boy wake up and realize there was an opportunity right in front of him.

  But when Franco tried to connect with Luca and convince him to do something, he went in the opposite direction. Over and over again, his son did this until Franco did his best not to say anything.

  "You know your brother. If we suggested she would be a girl he should consider, he would run so fast in the opposite direction..."

  "That we'd never see him again," Cara finished for her father. "I think we should try something different. You know, tell him to leave her alone. That he should avoid her and see his reaction."

  Franco thought about what his daughter was proposing. It wasn't a bad suggestion. He lifted the last of the castagnole from the pan. In Italy, these were served at carnival time, but here in Texas, he served them whenever there was a special occasion. Gently blotting the extra oil from the tender fried dough, he left them cooling and turned back to his daughter.

  "What did you think of the girl?"

  His daughter grinned. "I immediately liked her. Of course, I still believe my father is the best baker in town, but she would fit in the family. She's one of us.”

  That's what he'd been thinking and to hear Cara thought that Luca was attracted to the girl, pleased him immensely.

  Nodding he hugged his daughter to him. "La mia bellissima figlia, you are not only beautiful but very smart. I think you are right about Miss Sullivan and your brother. If we try to push the two of them together, he will bolt. So let's encourage him that she is not for him."

  Cara laughed. "Oh, Papa, if I am smart, I learned everything from you."

  He beamed. His wife had given him three beautiful children who he loved with all his heart. But it was time for them to start spreading their wings and finding their own way in life. Especially, Luca. It was passed time. And he hated that the bakery was sitting empty, the ovens not in use. What if Bella would like to fire up the bakery again? Was she the person to convince his son the bakery was still important?

  The bell dinged above the door of the mercantile just as Bella came out of the kitchen carrying the day’s baking into the store.

  "Mr. Ruffini, it's so good to see you," she said. "What did you bring?"

  The man was carrying a basket lined with dish towels that covered something. She knew he must be bringing her a sample of his entry at the Fall Festival.

  "I brought you castagnole."

  The smell of fresh, baked yeast accosted her senses. She hoped the pastry tasted as good as its smell promised and that Mr. Ruffini was an excellent baker. She would hate if she couldn't be honest and tell him the pastry was delicious.

  She glanced at Abigail stocking shelves. She waved him to the back. "There's fresh coffee in the kitchen. Please, join me and we'll enjoy coffee and your castagnole."

  "Thank you," he said, carefully following her to the kitchen.

  Quickly, she poured two cups of coffee and sat at the table. "I can hardly wait to try these."

  Putting the pastry to her mouth, her teeth sank into the crispy dough on the outside and the bread like center. There was just a hint of something she didn't recognize. "Hmmm...this is delicious. But what is that flavor I can’t distinguish? I'm sure there're eggs and sugar, but what else?"

  "Rum," he said. "One tablespoon of rum gives it that unique flavor."

  Liquor? That surprised her and yet the taste was wonderful and she knew the alcohol had cooked into the dough.

  "It's delicious. No wonder you've won all these years. It just melts in your mouth. I need another," she said picking up one from the basket.

  He laughed. "I'm glad you're enjoying them."

  She ate another and knew the pastry was delicious, and that she'd been lucky to win against this obvious master of baking.

  "Over a year ago, I took ill and they didn't think I was going to live."

  "I'm so sorry to hear that and glad to see you've proven them wrong," she said, thinking about her own father. How would she feel if he became ill or suddenly passed away? Life was too precious and often slipped away too quickly. And yet they were estranged and miles from one another.

  "At the time, it was all Luca could do to run the bakery and also try to take care of me and Cara and Ricci, my other children. My wife's been dead for over two years, and frankly, I think I almost died from missing her."

  Bella's heart wrenched at the man's admission. It was so obvious he loved his family and she wished her own father was more like Franco.

  "You're going to make me cry," she said.

  He patted her hand. "My prayer is that all of my children someday find the kind of love I had with their mother. But what I wanted to tell you, is my family still owns the bakery. It's been sitting empty since I took ill. Would you be interested in opening it back up?"

  The old man's face seemed eager as if he were sharing his love for the place with her. "Of course, I would love to come and help you and even teach you some things. But you're a good baker and I'm an old man who just likes to play in the flour occasionally.

  “I don't want to work the counter or be there every day. But a couple of times a week, it would do me good to get out of the house and back to what I enjoyed."

  Had Luca not told him he'd sold the bakery? She was not going to be the one who broke this precious man's heart by telling him his son had already sold the building. No, that would be his son's job. But she had offered to lease the space and Luca obviously hadn't told him she'd approached him with this same idea.

  Dropping her eyes, she sighed. Her chest wrenched with pain, her throat tight with unshed tears. She'd so badly wanted that bakery and she didn't want to upset Franco, but she wasn't going to lie to him either. Her decision made, she glanced up and stared into the same shade of dark eyes that Luca had.

  "You show me great honor by offering to let me work in your family bakery. But I spoke to Luca yesterday about this same idea and he told me it was impossible. You see, I thought your ovens are sitting there not being used and I wanted to lease the space from him. But he told me that wasn't possible."

  "Why?" Franco said, throwing his hands up in the air. "Why would my son not accept your offer?"

  "He told me the bakery was his family’s and he would not let the woman who had outdone his father take over the building."

  Franco laughed. "He's been trying to sell the family bakery, so I don't understand his loyalty all of a sudden."

  She shrugged. She knew, but she wasn't going to say another word to Franco. This was between him and his son. "I told him I would be honored to bake in the same ovens, but he said no."

  Franco stood, his eyes darkening and she knew he was angry, but what could she do. She'd been honest with him, but she hadn't told him everything. And once he learned his son had sold the business, then she feared he would be consumed with rage.

  "This matter is not closed. I will speak with my son and get back with you. You would be responsible for the business."

  "I offered to pay him rent," she said softly.

  He spoke rapid fire Italian and she fel
t certain there were curse words but was not going to ask.

  "Bella, I will speak with my son. Don't be searching for any other location just yet. Let me talk with him and then one of us will get back with you."

  "I don't want to cause problems between you," she said.

  Shaking his head, his hands clenched at his side, he gazed at her. "We are two stubborn Italian males. Of course, there is going to be problems between us, but there is also love of family. That is most important. You will hear from us soon."

  Part of her didn't want to get her hopes up and the other part was trying not to show too much excitement. She'd been wrong to go to Luca and should have started with Franco to achieve her dream. He wanted to reopen the bakery as well and would also give her advice.

  She reached into the basket and pulled out one more castagnole. The pastries were delicious.

  "Keep them," he said smiling at her. "Are you sure you are not Italiano?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know. I think we're French, but I'm not even certain about that. I'll return the basket to you."

  She walked him to the door of the mercantile. "Good day, Mr. Ruffini. And thank you for bringing me your pastries. They were delicious."

  He smiled. "Good day."

  After he left the store, she hurried over to Abigail rearranging shelves, barely able to contain herself. Maybe everything was going to come together and she'd finalize the deal on the bakery after all. But whatever happened, she felt like beating Mr. Ruffini had been a life changing event. Now she hoped it was for the good.

  "He's going to talk to his son about letting me have the bakery." She jumped up and down so excited. "But I fear his son is going to be so angry with me."

  Luca had risen early this morning and left the house before his father and siblings were even up. He'd been busy all day in the fields prepping the soil for the vines he would soon plant. Plus he'd been tying up the overloaded vines, getting them ready for harvest. They were just weeks away from the largest crop of grapes he'd grown. At lunchtime, he went into the barn to clean up before he went into the house.

  His father entered the barn and walked toward him. "Hi, Papa."

  "Why did you not want to lease the bakery to Miss Sullivan," he said his voice rising.

  A twinge of nerves zinged up Luca's spine at the angry tone of his father. How had he found out about Luca turning the woman down? "It's your bakery, Papa. It's the family’s bakery and I couldn't let a stranger work in yours and Mama’s kitchen."

  The old man crossed his arms over his chest. "But you want to sell this sacred family building. Is that not the same thing?"

  Already Luca could feel his defenses building. That baking contest had stirred up not only his father but brought Bella Sullivan into their lives. Another week and the sale would have been behind him and none of this would have mattered.

  One of the horses in the stalls neighed nervously at the sound of his father's voice. Luca wiped his hands on a rag and faced his father.

  "The person I hope to sell to is not going to run a bakery out of the building."

  Maybe he was crazy, and it wasn't like he wanted to run the place. He'd never enjoyed working with the flour like his mama and papa. They'd wanted him to learn and he had begrudgingly, but it just wasn't what he enjoyed doing. He loved working in the fields, babying the grapes until the sugar was high and just right to make wine.

  "So my ovens will do what? Will they be destroyed? Life happens, things change and I would rather my ovens were being used than sitting idle," he said, his voice rising even higher as he raised his hands in the air. "Maybe your brother or your sister will take up the art of creating pastries."

  Luca had to lick his lips. "I have a buyer for the place. We hope to close next week."

  The smell of manure assaulted his nose and he wanted to tell the horse thanks for making this situation even more undesirable.

  "And do what with the building?" Franco asked.

  "He plans on tearing it down and build a hotel."

  His father cursed in Italian, which Luca understood. He'd known he would not be elated with his decision to sell the place, but the building was sitting empty. A shrine to what was once a happy place. A place filled with love and joy between his parents. He had great memories of them all working there together. But it was over. His mother was dead and his father had almost died from trying to run the bakery by himself.

  There was silence for a moment. "And you think this is better than someone working where your mother and I spent the best times of our lives together?"

  What could he say? Neither option was good. "No, but you know I need the money from the sale to put into the vineyard."

  "That damn vineyard has not earned us a dime, but the bakery could be bringing in cash every day."

  "And you would be right back there working in it every day."

  His father stopped and frowned and Luca knew he was right. Since he'd lost at the Fall Festival, it was like he wanted to regain his title and he needed the connection of the bakery to do that. But Luca feared that would kill him and he wasn't ready for his papa to die.

  "If I sell the bakery, you will not be rising before dawn to prepare the bread and staying late at night to work the books. The business consumed you until the point you fell ill."

  "And your vineyard does not consume you?"

  What could he say? Just because he was out with the vines nearly seven days a week, checking and watching and waiting for the fruit to turn ripe.

  "Yes, it does. But I'm not sixty years old."

  "Not yet."

  "I hoped that you would spend this time to enjoy the life you and Mama created. You deserve the time off."

  His father's eyes flashed at him, and he clenched his fists. "You do not understand. I'm bored. I know I can no longer work the long hours I did in the past. But I at least could come in several days a week and work with the dough. I could enjoy the smell of baking bread and visit with my old customers again. You say you don't want to see anyone else use the family ovens, but I disagree. It is better that the bakery continues on as it was. Tearing it down is wrong."

  Somehow he had to convince his father this was the only way. They needed the influx of cash for the vineyard. Hopefully in the next year they would produce their first bottles of wine and then the cash would start to flow again.

  "Papa, I have a buyer.”

  His father held up his hand. "No. I'm not ready to sell. Give me six weeks to work with Miss Sullivan. If she can't make the bakery profitable and running smoothly, I will concede and let you sell the family business. But I insist on this six weeks."

  Time enough for the buyer to lose interest. Time enough for winter to arrive and the material he needed to make the wine. He had more grapes than ever before, but no cellar to store the wine and no bottles to strain the liquid into after it was filtered.

  "Papa," Luca said with annoyance. "That woman has no idea how to run the bakery, and I don't have time to teach her."

  His father's voice rose in defiance. "I have given over the family money and business to you to handle. I'm letting you learn and hoping everything I've taught you will keep the family going. I'm giving you the opportunity. Now you should, in turn, give Miss Sullivan a chance."

  Luca stared at his father wanting to yell right back at him, but knowing that would not be good. As it was, their voices had already been raised. This threw everything off, but what could he do? The bakery and the money were his father's. He had to listen to him and obey, even though his own plans would be delayed.

  "I'll ask the buyer to wait six weeks. But after that if the bakery is not a success this means we sell the building."

  He could only pray the buyer would be willing to wait until his papa was ready to let go of the building.

  "Miss Sullivan has the flour flowing in her blood, she will be successful. Six weeks we will know for certain."

  Disappointment fueled by rage coursed through Luca, springing him into action. He couldn'
t sit quietly and have lunch. No, it was imperative he speak with Miss Sullivan and hope she understands what she's done.

  Somehow this woman had managed to hypnotize his father and now she'd ruined his arrangements. Luca had told her no and she'd gone behind his back and approached his father. Now all Luca's plans were put on hold while he had to deal with Miss Sullivan.

  Walking out of the barn, his father followed him. "Where are you going?"

  "Into town to talk to the buyer," he said, knowing full well he was going to warn Miss Sullivan away from his father.

  "Oh, do you want me to come with you?"

  "No," he said. "I can handle it."

  And handle it he would. Miss Sullivan was going to wish she’d never interfered and gotten her way. If possible, Luca was going to make it extremely difficult for her to be successful.

  Bella was happily putting another tray of cookies into the oven when she heard Abigail talking to someone. It sounded like Luca. She peeked around the corner of the kitchen and saw him standing there, his arms crossed across his chest, his eyes dark and his mouth set tightly. He certainly didn't appear too happy.

  "Bella," he yelled.

  Good grief, what was going on for him to be shouting her name? Wiping her hands on her dirty apron, she walked up front. "Why are you roaring like a lion?"

  "I told you she was busy," Abigail said and walked away.

  "You know why," he said. "You went to my father," he said angrily, his voice rising.

  "I did not," she responded quietly. She walked from behind the counter and glanced around the store. She was not going to have this obvious argument in front of customers. But she didn't see anyone in the store, so they were safe for now. "Your father came to see me today and brought me castagnole. We talked about baking and he mentioned to me, that I should use his bakery. I told him I had spoken to you and you told me that was not possible. I didn't even mention you had sold the bakery."

  Luca tilted his head to the side and gazed at her. She could see he was trying to decide if he believed her or not and that just made her angrier. "Your father has been extremely kind to me. We both enjoy baking and he offered to show me some techniques. He's the one who mentioned letting me use the bakery. Not me."