by Anna Argent
"It's Conlan," his cousin announced in his Official Sheriff's Business tone. "I've got Mason in custody. I need you to come get him."
Chapter Fourteen
Gemma raced away from Saxon's house as fast as her bare feet would take her.
She was such a fool to have gone there last night. What the hell had she been thinking?
That she was lonely, tired, emotionally exhausted and completely overwhelmed. That she needed the company of another human soul, and Aunt Beth was already asleep. That the few friends she had in St. Louis had all but stopped calling her because her eighty-hour work week didn't leave much room for socialization. That her own parents would have answered the phone, but made her feel even worse if she'd bothered to unload her problems on them.
You're a grown woman. Just deal with it. That's what grown women do. She could almost hear her mother now, her distracted tone filled with the desire to do more important things than chat with her daughter about her tiny problems.
No, thank you.
Gemma was only feet from Aunt Beth's front lawn when she saw a blur coming around the corner to her left.
The sun wasn't completely over the horizon yet, casting deep, long shadows across the ground. That splotchy lighting had obscured her vision as she'd run, creating a kind of strobe-like effect that half blinded her.
Too late she realized that blur was someone on a bike—someone who had seemingly popped out of thin air and was on a collision course with her.
She jumped out of the way and landed hard in the front yard between road and sidewalk. Her bare feet stung from their kiss with the asphalt. She skidded over the grass, hearing the newly green blades rip from their earthly moorings. She landed on her elbow and knee, and the joints now joined the chorus of burning discomfort along with the balls of her feet.
There was a squealing sound followed by that of rubber scraping across concrete. A female voice lifted in a harsh, unladylike curse.
Gemma pushed herself upright to see a woman on a bike, her long, golden blond hair whipping around in a frenzy of motion. When she finally stopped the skidding bicycle, she dismounted and raced over to where Gemma sat—still stunned—on the grass.
"Are you okay?" asked Lulu—the young woman who'd borrowed straws and napkins from Flora's diner yesterday. She was breathing hard, and her hair was a wild golden mane around her pretty face.
Gemma nodded. "Yeah. Sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going." She rubbed her elbow, which made the palm of her hand sting. Apparently, she'd scraped that up, too.
Great. Between that and the blisters, she was going to be cooking in gloves for a week.
Lulu knelt down, concern creasing her pretty face. "What are you doing running in the middle of the road with no shoes on?"
Without meaning to, Gemma glanced at Saxon's house. "I forgot them."
The girl followed her gaze. "At Saxon's?"
Gemma was so not telling this woman or anyone else that she'd spent the night there. Nothing had happened, and the way rumors spread in small towns, the gossip mill would have her pregnant with Saxon's baby before the day was out.
She pushed to her scraped feet, gingerly testing everything to make sure she really was okay.
"I'm so sorry I wasn't paying attention," she said to change the subject away from Saxon—far away.
Lulu shook her head. "I should have been more careful. I rounded that corner too fast. I ride this way every day, and the street is always deserted this early." She paused for a second, studying Gemma. "What were you doing at Saxon's?"
"I took him some pie," she said, glad to find a response that wasn't a lie.
"Why?"
The girl seemed genuinely curious—the kind of curious that didn't go away unless sated.
"He's been watching out for Aunt Beth. It was just my way of thanking him." Again, the truth, if not all of it.
Lulu's slim shoulders dropped in relief. "Oh, okay. That's nice." Another short pause while she kept her gaze fixed on Saxon's house. "Does he like pie? What kind?"
Now that Gemma's brains were not rattling in her head, she was starting to get the feeling that Lulu rode her bike down this street every day because she had a crush on Saxon.
Not that Gemma could blame her. The man was definitely crush-worthy.
Still, jealousy nipped at her heels like an annoying puppy.
"I need to get in and check on Aunt Beth," she said. "Again, I'm really sorry I didn't see you coming."
Lulu was still staring Saxon's way, her tone distracted. "I bet he likes blueberry. That's our best seller at the café."
Which reminded Gemma, "I heard your source for baked goods at the café was subpar. If you want, I could do some baking for you. I'm professionally trained with tons of references. Flora has started buying from me as well."
The strangest look swept over Lulu's face. Shock, dismay, then absolute calm with a faint smile, all in the space of a blink. "Who told you about our baked goods?"
Gemma was absolutely not outing Saxon as the one who'd said they sucked. "I can't remember. If you want, I can provide some samples for you and your mom to try—see what you like."
"Sure. That would be nice. We don't want to serve anything subpar. The café has a reputation to protect."
At least this accidental meeting was going to accomplish one good thing—another customer to help pay the bills and get the bakery back to its former glory.
Gemma's spirits rose as she mentally rearranged her schedule. Today she planned to see if any of Aunt Beth's old suppliers had kept her accounts open. Then she was going to go to the bakery and take inventory of the equipment—make sure the ovens and mixers were still in working order.
Some of that would have to wait. She needed to establish some customers and get at least a small stream of cash flowing. Getting the café to put in an ongoing order would be a huge win for Aunt Beth.
Gemma decided she'd find a way to make a sample tray of her best pastries.
"How late is the café open?" Gemma asked.
"Until two."
"How about I show up at two tomorrow and bring some samples then?"
Lulu smiled, but it was a practiced movement that didn't reach her eyes. "Perfect. We'll see you then."
***
Lulu held her smile until Gemma was inside the house, out of sight.
She'd spend the night with Saxon.
Lulu's Saxon.
She turned and stared at his front porch. She'd ridden past his house nearly every day for a year. On nice days like this one, he was usually outside, sipping coffee while he stared at his phone to read up with what had happened in the world while he slept.
He always waved as she went by, giving her that special smile he reserved only for her—the one that told her that he thought about her at night, that he longed for her the way she did for him.
Lulu always looked forward to riding by on days like this, but her Saxon was nowhere to be seen. He was probably still sleeping off whatever slutty things Gemma had done to him last night.
How dare she?
And now she wanted to bake for their café? As if Lulu's food wasn't good enough?
Subpar. That's what Gemma had called it—what people in town called it when Lulu wasn't around to hear.
Mom had always hated Aunt Beth, and now Lulu knew why. That whole family was bad seed. Trash. Subpar.
Let Gemma waste her time making pies and cakes. Lulu would put them all in the trash, right where they belonged.
Chapter Fifteen
Saxon had no idea what the hell he was going to do with his brother.
Mason was half unconscious and completely hungover when Saxon loaded him into the truck. The smell of booze was still at flammable levels as he reached across his brother to buckle his seatbelt.
"Get your fucking hands off me," Mason growled in a surly slur.
Conlan stood nearby, his sheriff's uniform pristine, his badge gleaming under the bright morning sun. "He'll need some ice on his fa
ce," he told Saxon. "There are no broken bones, but he's going to have a hell of a bruise."
"I'll take care of it," Saxon said. "Just don't tell Mom. She'll freak out and make things worse. He'll end up in the ER getting brain scans if she finds out."
Conlan nodded. "He's never done this before, so I was able to let it slide, but it can't happen again."
"It won't," Saxon assured his cousin. "He's just dealing with some…stuff right now."
"Next time tell him to deal with it at home—away from mouthy college kids who are spoiling for a fight. He's lucky he got away with a shiner. It could have been a lot worse if the kid had pressed charges."
Rather than make promises on his brother's behalf—promises Saxon couldn't keep—he said, "Thanks for calling me. I'll take care of him."
"I sure as hell hope so. I'm off duty at four. Call if you need me to come by and beat some sense into him after that."
Saxon nodded and drove off. Mason was already snoring, sleeping off the bad decisions of last night.
Saxon couldn't leave his brother alone in this state, but he sure as hell couldn't talk to him, either. And they definitely needed to talk.
Mason was always in control. Always. He didn't go out and get hammered. He didn't skip work and leave his fledgling company to run itself. He didn't get into fistfights with college boys unless they deserved a beating.
Diana hadn't just broken his heart, she'd broken him.
Saxon wasn't about to stand by and let his brother spiral downward. Mason had always been there for him. It was time to return the favor.
He drove to Aunt Beth's bakery and parked behind it in the alley. Mom walked this street to work too often for him to risk her seeing her drunken son sleeping one off in the truck. Mason had enough to deal with without adding managing Mom into the mix.
He left his brother snoring in the front seat and went to work. His crew was slated to arrive this afternoon, after they finished another job, and by then, he needed the site ready for a mass invasion of manpower.
With any luck at all, Mason would be awake and coherent before the crew arrived and started asking question.
Saxon busied himself with repairs. He tapped into his troubleshooting skills to find the source of the leak Gemma had spotted and replace a section of pipe that had been damaged. He didn't know how long the leak had been going on, but the damage it had left behind meant reinforcing at least two joists.
It was midmorning. He'd just come up from the basement when Mason shambled in, holding his head. "Got any aspirin?"
"Idiots who get drunk and start fights don't deserve aspirin."
Mason found an empty five-gallon bucket, turned it over, and plopped down on it. He cradled his buzzed head in his big hands. "Is that why my face hurts?" He gently touched the swelling below his left eye, then winced.
"Because you're an idiot? Yes, that would by why your face hurts."
"Who?" His voice was quiet.
"Who did you hit? Who hit you? Or who bailed your ass out of the fire before Mom and Dad could find out their prodigal son fucked up?"
Mason cracked open one eye to peer sheepishly at Saxon. "All of the above?"
"You owe Conlan a favor. A big one. Like a shiny new truck big."
"And you? What do I owe you?"
"An explanation would be nice."
Mason was silent for so long, Saxon thought he might have drifted off to sleep again. When he spoke, his words wavered with emotion. "I went to see Diana yesterday. I wanted to know why—needed to know. The cheating, the lying, the stealing. I didn't deserve any of that."
"What did she say?"
"It was all about the money. It had always been about the money. That woman she was with—that girl—it's been going on the whole time we were together."
Saxon almost asked how Mason could have missed something so big, but then realized that all of them had missed it. The whole family had liked Diana. Not everyone thought she was right for Saxon—especially Grandad—but no one thought she was a cheat or a liar.
They'd all been wrong.
"I loved her," Mason said, sounding utterly defeated. "I loved her while she was fucking a woman. Or should I say a girl. I loved her but she was just using me for money. She knew that if we got close enough for me to trust her, she'd be able to siphon off some extra cash from the business to support her girlfriend. Siphon—her words, not mine."
Stealing, or perhaps embezzling would have been more accurate, but again, Saxon said nothing. Instead, he let Mason talk.
"She said she's in love with Tiffany and has been for years—since right after I hired her at the office. I was merely the way they could afford to be together. In that dump." He let out a bitter laugh. "Diana said she didn't even mind the dump because it was theirs—hers and Tiffany's love nest. They're fixing it up and planning to have kids. Start a family."
Saxon's blood went cold as he realized that his brother would have eventually been more than a source of income. He would have been a sperm donor.
Rather than adding that thought to his brother's already full, hung-over mind, he held his tongue. Mason would realize it himself at some point, but only when he was ready.
He pulled in a long, shuddering breath. "I knew she'd had relationships with women before me. She told me that early on. But seeing her with someone else—anyone else—it hurt." He sighed, shook his head. "I knew better than to start drinking last night…."
"But you were hurt and angry and wanted to dull the pain. I get it. But it can't happen again."
"It won't. You have my word."
Normally that would be enough, but this drunken outburst was far from normal for rock-steady Mason.
Saxon sighed. "I'm going to make you repeat that when your head is clear, but for now, it's good enough. Let me take you home so you can sleep and shower. We'll talk again tonight, okay?"
Mason shook his head. "I'm done talking. It's time for me to get cleaned up and go back to work. I have a company to repair and bills to pay."
Saxon wasn't so sure that was the right course of action, but they'd hash it out later—after his brother was himself again. For now, he'd let Mason hide his pain in his work like he always did.
Chapter Sixteen
Gemma had developed a habit of using food as an excuse to see Saxon. This time, she had a chicken salad croissant sandwich with a variety of cookies for dessert.
She'd spent the morning preparing a sample menu for Lulu and her mom, then designed a few new recipes so that the café wouldn't be selling the same baked goods as Flora's diner. No sense in stirring up unwanted competition.
She cleaned up the house, did some laundry and made lunch for her and Aunt Beth, setting aside some for Saxon. By the time Cotton had come by to pick up her aunt, Gemma had finished the morning's baking spree and was practically squirming with the need to see him.
But why?
She had a crush, that was all. He was a kind, handsome bachelor. What sane woman wouldn't want him?
He wanted her, too. He'd made it about as plain as a man could without coming right out and saying it. He'd flirted and laid out a string of innuendo she'd had no trouble picking up.
Even now, knowing she was getting close to him, her insides tingled with a quivering, liquid excitement.
Nothing was going to happen, she reminded herself. He was just a fun way to pass the time here while she got Aunt Beth back on her feet. Once the bakery was open and staffed, once her aunt was moving around without the need for a walker, Gemma would go back to her old life. Her flirtation with Saxon would come to an end.
The thought made some of her buoyant excitement fade, so she shoved it out of her head, determined to enjoy the moment for as long as it lasted. Because once she went back to work, her social life was going to come to a screeching halt.
Gemma sighed as she parked in front of the bakery. Enjoy today. Let tomorrow worry about itself.
Saxon's truck wasn't out front, but the glass door was open to let in th
e fresh spring breeze. Clouds of dust wafted out, leaving a pale residue on the sidewalk.
Gemma gathered up Saxon's lunch and headed inside.
Some kind of power tool growled and whined as it worked. She followed the sound and found Saxon bent over the floor where the pastry display counter had once stood.
His T-shirt was pulled tight across deliciously wide shoulders. His back was to her, giving her an unobstructed view of his sexy back and ass. Worn jeans hugged his thighs, contouring thick layers of powerful muscles.
She stared as he worked, watching the play of masculine strength as he did whatever magic he had to do to put the bakery back together again.
She didn't know how long she gawked at him, but when he finally powered down the machine, her mouth was dry with want.
If she could only get him under her hands for a few hours—touch him, stroke him, feel all of that casual strength vibrating beneath her fingertips—she'd be satisfied for the rest of her life.
Maybe.
As if he sensed her stare, he turned around, lifting safety glasses as he moved.
The smile he offered her was filled with warm welcome and sultry heat.
Gemma's skin nearly melted off at the sight.
"I didn't expect to see you here today," he said as he rose to his wide, sturdy feet clad in scuffed work boots.
She didn't know why something as mundane as worn foot attire could be so appealing, but on him, everything looked good. He was just so solid…so real and approachable. And boy, did she want to approach.
Gemma willed her shaking hands to steady and her pounding heart to slow. "I needed to come by and see if all of the kitchen equipment was still in working order. I thought you might want lunch."
His grin widened, making his handsome face even more stunning. Those classic, all-American good looks had probably earned him more notches on his bedpost than three other men combined.
A faint hint of jealousy cast a green tint over her rose-colored vision. Those women had no idea how lucky they were.
"You certainly know the way to a man's heart," he said.
"Through his penis?" she asked, all feigned innocence.
