Wild Man

by Kristen Ashley

  “I always have your back.”

  Warm gushiness flooded through me. One of my hands slid from around his back, up his chest, his neck to cup his cheek.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “You’re welcome, Tess,” he whispered back.

  He lifted his forehead and his thumb swept my jaw as my fingers slid from his cheek into his hair.

  Then he declared, “Shit that went down tonight, get it outta your head.”

  I blinked.

  Then I asked, “Sorry?”

  “It happened, it’s reported, the phone call prior is bein’ looked into. You live your life. You bake your cakes. You spend time with your friends. You already tell me where you are and where you’re goin’, you intensify that. I’ll send someone to look at the security at your bakery and also look into setting something up here.”

  “Brock—”

  “Vance is good at that shit. Stellar. I’ll talk to him.”

  “Brock—”

  “Units are gonna drive by regular, keep a look out. And your bakery is now on radar.”

  “Hon—”

  “They got shell casings. Those might have prints. Guy was wearin’ a ski mask but I got his build, make and model on the car, a partial plate, and he wasn’t wearin’ gloves so we know he’s white.”

  “Can I—?”

  His thumb stopped stroking and his fingers gave me a squeeze.

  “You be smart, you be vigilant, but I have your back, Tess. I always do. You do not need to worry about this.”

  I stared at him, thinking now maybe Brock was high.

  Then I reminded him, “You got shot at tonight.”

  “Yeah, babe, and it’s happened before. I hope it won’t happen again but in my line of work that’s a possibility. I deal and you bein’ my woman, you deal.”

  “But—”

  His hand shifted so his thumb could press on my lips.

  “This is the job you have now, Tess. You’re with me, you deal. And you’re with me. And the woman I saw tonight shrieking in the face of the monster who violated her, she won’t have a problem with that. The only way you beat motherfuckers who try to fuck with you is not to let them beat you. So you deal.”

  Damn, I freaking hated it when he made sense.

  “Yeah?” he prompted when I said nothing.

  I didn’t answer. Instead, I asked, “Did Martha ask your Riviera order?”

  “Yeah, she did. Now did you get me?”

  It also bugged me that you couldn’t pull shit over on him.

  I rolled my eyes.

  Then I said, “I got you.”

  He grinned. Then he dipped his head to touch his lips to mine again. He lifted it and looked at the counter of the island.

  Then he looked back at me. “That for me or you double-fisting it?”

  “For you,” I answered, though double-fisting it sounded like a plan. Until one of my fists was wrapped around a fork and shoveling in chile rellenos that was.

  He let me go with one arm and grabbed his beer. I moved my hand in his hair to around his waist and lifted my beer to take another slug.

  Then I remarked, “Well, silver lining, toxic exes, middle of the night phone calls interrupting great sex and imminent orgasms, gunfights in the front yard, our lives aren’t boring.”

  Brock finished taking his pull, dropped his beer hand, and agreed, “Nope.”

  “That said, I’m investigating vacation spots. Requirements include beachfront hotel, therefore a beach, a bar that serves cocktails that taste like liquid candy, and that’s pretty much it. If you can’t get off work, I’m selling cupcakes on street corners to make up the dough so you can take leave without pay. And we’re kidnapping Rex and Joel if we have to because I am not waiting two months for spring break and we’ll answer to the charges when we get back.”

  He stared down at me.

  “It’ll be worth it, I promise,” I assured him.

  He continued to stare down at me.

  “We’ll get Rex and Joel their own room. Adjoining. Locks on our side.”

  He looked away, muttered, “Now you’re talkin’,” and took another pull of beer.

  I grinned and took another pull at mine.

  A knock came at the front door.

  Martha and Mexican.

  No, my best friend Martha who dropped everything to be with me during a serious drama and really freaking good Mexican.

  And, as ever, the ride continues.

  But at this present time, that ride was on an up.

  So I was going to take advantage.

  And clearly Brock was too for he didn’t hesitate to let me go and move to the door.

  Or maybe he was just hungry.

  Still, the ride was on an up. I knew this because, as I stood in my fabulous kitchen with a beer in my hand and my man heading toward the door, my best friend and really freaking good Mexican, I was watching his ass.

  Definitely an up.

  Absolutely.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  A Day at Tessa’s Cakes

  “TESS! YOUR HOT guy is here!” Nora, one of my kids, called from the front of the bakery. “And he’s got two mini hot guys with him.”

  I looked up from the birthday cake I was decorating and toward the swinging half doors that separated the bakery part of the bakery from the public part of the bakery. Within seconds I saw an amused Brock push through, followed by his two smirking sons, who it was plain to see liked being referred to as mini hot guys, especially when a pretty, perky young thing like Nora called them that.

  I was happy to see them but surprised.

  It was more than a week after the Damian drama. It was Saturday and business was still booming. I’d been in the shop since seven because I had six birthday cakes to decorate by noon and an anniversary cake to decorate by three. I also had two appointments with blushing soon-to-be brides to discuss their wedding cakes.

  It was now just after eleven and again (mostly) all hands on deck. Kalie was out on the floor with Nora and Suni. Kellie was back with me and my two other bakers and decorators extraordinaire and the place was humming.

  “Hey, Uncle Slim!” Kellie called, hands busy with rolling snickerdoodle balls of dough in cinnamon and sugar. “Yo, Joey, Rex.”

  “Hey, Kellie,” Joel called back.

  “Hey,” Rex said distractedly, his eyes big and taking in the sights and smells of magic happening all around and his face registered exactly that—magic.

  I giggled at Rex and my eyes went to Brock, who’d greeted his niece verbally but came to me and greeted my physically by getting close to my side and kissing my neck.

  Then his mouth moved to my ear and he whispered, “Sweetness.”

  I shivered and my head turned, my eyes finding his.

  “Hey, honey,” I whispered back. His eyes danced, I got another shiver, and then I looked to the boys. “Hey, guys.”

  “Hey, Tess,” Joey replied.

  “Hey,” Rex mumbled, staring at the huge cake in front of me.

  “Poppy seed with raspberry and cream filling and vanilla bean frosting,” I told him.

  He blinked at the cake, his eyes lifted to mine, he blinked at me, and then his eyes dropped back to the cake and he licked his lips.

  I giggled again.

  Then I shouted to the swinging doors, “Guys! Anything they want, on the house for my two boys!”

  “You got it, Tess!” Suni shouted back.

  Joel muttered, “Awesome,” and took off on a dash into the front.

  Rex was already gone.

  I giggled again.

  Then I looked at Brock and asked, “What’re you guys doing here?”

  I asked this because our plans for the day were set. Considering my schedule and the fact it was girls’ night in and Brock had the boys, I was working all day then hoofing it to Martha’s. Depending on my level of inebriation and the lateness of the festivities, I was either going to go to Brock’s later, call him to get me if I was hamm
ered, or crashing at Martha’s.

  A visit to the bakery wasn’t on the agenda thus a surprise though a good one.

  “You got a minute?” Brock asked in return and that was when I wondered if this surprise was a good one.

  I looked down at the cake, which was almost done. I’d baked them all the day before and only had to decorate them. This was the last birthday cake and next up was the anniversary cake. My appointments weren’t until after three. Therefore, I had time.

  So I nodded, put down the pastry bag, and muttered, “Let’s go to my office.”

  We went and when I closed the door behind me and saw Brock looking around with unconcealed surprise, I realized he’d never been back here. Not when we were seeing each other when he was Jake and not when we got back together when he was mine.

  He looked at the chaos then at me and said simply, “Babe.”

  “I know where everything is,” I defended myself.

  He looked around again, then back at me. “That’s impossible.”

  “No, really.”

  He grinned.

  Then he tipped his head toward the door, crossed his arms on his chest, and remarked, “Madhouse.”

  I nodded. “I need to consider more hires, decorators for the back, staff for the front. It isn’t lightening up even on weekdays and special orders are getting out of hand, so I don’t have time to help the girls keep the front stocked.”

  “You need to consider opening new locations,” Brock returned and I blinked at him. “It’s a madhouse out there ’cause this is the only place in Denver they can get your stuff so they descend en masse here. You open shops in LoDo, Park Meadows, considering additional foot traffic and convenience to locals, you’ll clean up.”

  I had, of course, thought of this after I’d learned Brock was not Jake, we were apart for those three months, and I was hell-bent on doing anything that might take my mind off being played but mostly losing him (an effort that, incidentally, failed).

  I’d even looked at locations for expanding, including one in LoDo or what lower downtown Denver was known as. However, these activities clashed with my half-baked plans to sell my house and move to Kentucky so I didn’t fully investigate them.

  But also, I didn’t fully investigate them because already the success of my shop was cutting into the time I got to do the fun stuff. I had an accountant and outsourced payroll but that was it. All the hires, scheduling of personnel, ordering, inventory, my calendar, and the rest of it I did. The idea of adding another shop to that load, or worse, two, didn’t fill me with glee.

  “I’m uncertain of my desire to be the ‘cake guru’ of Denver. I like baking and decorating. I’m not champing at the bit to build and oversee a cake empire.”

  He grinned then decided he was done with our distance, which, considering my office was tiny was only two feet so the distance wasn’t that distant but still, he obviously didn’t like it. I knew this because his arms uncrossed and one shot out. He grabbed my hand, tugged on it hard so I was forced to take a big step forward, and I fell into his body. Then both his arms wrapped around me and I tilted my head back to look up at him as my arms slid around his waist.

  Then he gave me no time to make a comment or react to this change of physical circumstances. He casually continued the conversation, like yanking me into his arms in the middle of one was a totally normal thing to do.

  Which, I realized in that nanosecond, for Brock it was.

  “So hire a business manager to oversee the shit you don’t wanna do at your different locations and spend your time baking and decorating,” he suggested.

  This idea held merit but I still shook my head and explained, “Sometimes, when folks expand, things get out of hand. You lose quality. You lose personality. It starts to be about money, not about soul. I put a lot of work into what’s happening out there and my name is on these cakes.” I gave his waist a squeeze and said quietly, “To me, baby, this isn’t just cakes. It’s my vision. It’s me. And I need to control it.”

  And it was my vision; it was me. I’d not that long ago finally discovered who I was and what was inside me and that didn’t only include a mountainous swirl of frosting under which was rich, moist cake. It also included robin’s egg blue and lavender and hibiscus blossoms and hummingbirds and smiling clerks and kids who walked in with looks on their faces like Rex and walked out with smiles on their faces like pretty much everybody.

  “All right, darlin’,” Brock said softly and my focus went back to him. “You’d had a tough night so you might have missed it but over Mexican, your girl bitched… at length… about her job. She’s in a bad place, hates what she’s doin’, and she’s been lookin’ around now for months and findin’ nothin’. You told me your income quadrupled over Christmas, and that isn’t slowing. Right now, you got the means to do this and you got someone you trust. Someone who knows you and your vision and understands the importance of it to you. Talk to Martha. Maybe she’ll be open to takin’ on a new gig. Even if you don’t expand, with how it is out there, you still could use someone doin’ what you do in here so you can get outta here and do what you prefer to do out there.”

  Again, this idea held merit but this one held more. Like a lot more. Doable more.

  “That’s a great idea, honey,” I whispered.

  “It’s a selfish idea, baby,” he whispered back. “The more money you make, the more sexy nighties I get, and if you get help, I’ll maybe see you sometimes when you’re not flat out exhausted and trying to hide it.”

  See? Totally could not pull shit over on Brock.

  “I’ll talk to her tonight,” I told him.

  “Good,” he said on an arm squeeze.

  “So”—I tipped my head to the side—“did you come here to advise me on the future of my bakery?”

  He shook his head and answered, “Nope, gotta go to work. Mom’s got plans to go see a movie with friends. Laura’s got a gaggle of girls over because Ellie had a slumber party last night. Jill and Fritz are up in the mountains snowshoeing. I don’t think dad’s up to it. Levi isn’t answering his phone and Kalie and Kellie are out there. ’Cause of that, I need to ask you to look after the boys. If I can get hold of Levi, I’ll give you a call and send him ’round to pick them up.”

  It was then I noticed he wasn’t in a thermal, his leather jacket, and faded jeans but in a navy blue turtleneck (again, one I bought him for Christmas), his nice jeans, and his black overcoat.

  Work attire.

  “Someone get a cap busted in their ass?” I asked.

  He grinned, shook his head in that way he did (that way I liked) when I knew he thought I was cute, and answered, “Yeah, and that someone was done exactly the way another someone who hit my desk last week was done. I gotta get to the crime scene and I gotta look into that shit.”

  Not fun.

  “Okay,” I agreed readily and his arms gave me another squeeze.

  “They’ll be cool,” he told me.

  “I know they will,” I told him.

  “If they can help out, put them to work,” he suggested.

  “They just got KP duties,” I decided.

  He smiled again. Then he dipped his head to touch his lips to mine.

  He lifted his head and murmured, “Thanks, baby.”

  “Anytime, honey,” I murmured back but even at a murmur I meant it and he knew it.

  Therefore, he smiled then that smile faded as a shadow drifted through his eyes telling me he wanted to spend a Saturday when he should be with his sons going to a crime scene and “looking into that shit” about as much as he wanted to get a tooth pulled without Novocain.

  Then he muttered, “I gotta go.”

  I pressed into him and whispered, “Yeah.”

  I got another squeeze, another lip touch (this one on my forehead), and he let me go but lifted a hand to cup my jaw before he murmured, “Later.”

  Then he was gone.

  I followed him out, moved through the back and front telling the g
irls we had two new helpers, approached Joel and Rex at their table where they were finishing up devouring a slice of carrot cake (Rex) and a red velvet cupcake (Joel), told them what they were going to do to earn their keep, and at this news their eyes lit.

  Only kids would think clearing tables and washing up coffee cups, plates, and forks in a bakery was cool.

  Or maybe it was only Brock’s kids.

  And lucky for me they did because I could use the help.

  * * *

  “Aunt Tess!” I heard someone shriek.

  I turned from loading a cake stand on the back shelves with cupcakes just in time to see Ellie darting through the shop, heading for the opening at the end of the counter, and rounding it.

  Luckily, although her speed was akin to an Olympian who, with great dedication, trained daily and maintained an athlete’s lifestyle 24/7, I had time to brace before she hit my legs, arms wrapped around them.

  My hand not holding the cupcake tray settled on her head and then dropped as she arched her back at an impossible angle without releasing her hold and grinned up at me.

  “Mom’s buyin’ us pink cupcakes!” she screeched, jumped back, and clapped. “I can’t wait!”

  I smiled at her and was surprised to see she’d ditched the princess attire and was now a mermaid, complete with a flashy green iridescent tail and flat lilac shells as bodice. However, this ensemble was marred by a winter coat and a cute, fluffy wool hat with a bobble on the top, both of which didn’t exactly say “under the sea.”

  “Ellie, come out from behind that counter right now,” Laura snapped, standing at the end of it. “What did I tell you about when your Aunt Tess is working? You don’t go behind the counter when Aunt Tess is working.”

  This wasn’t true. Ellie always came behind the counter when she visited Tessa’s Cakes. That was, she came behind the counter if Aunt Tess was there in order to do what she just did.

  “She doesn’t care,” Ellie shot back and this was true but Laura instantly got a “mom face” that clearly stated without words that she was not in the mood for backtalk.

  Ellie read her mother’s face, she scrunched her face, looked up at me, unscrunched her face, gave me a toothy grin, and then skipped out from behind the counter.