by Shandi Boyes
Levi watches the remains of his business card haphazardly float to the ground before raising his eyes to Harlow. “My number is also on the purchase contract. Call me if you have any questions.”
Snubbing her un-choked growl, he spins on his heels and exits the bakery as swiftly as he entered it. He’s barely stepped onto the sidewalk when Harlow whines, “Argh. Seriously. The gall of that guy. I don’t know how many times I have to spell it out to him. No amount of money will change the fact that my business is not for sale.”
She throws her arms into the air before stomping into her kitchen. Forgetting the floor is covered with eggs, she does a weird splits, wild arms flapping thing. Thankfully, my lightning quick reflexes help her regain her footing before she stumbles to the floor.
I wait for the panic to clear from her face before possibly increasing it. “Are you being hassled into selling?” I ask, pretending I don’t know the answer to my question.
“’Hassled’ is too nice of a word for that guy’s tactics.” She nudges her head in the direction Levi just went before crouching down to clean up the mess we made.
“What do you mean? What tactics?” The tick of my jaw resonates in my tone.
Harlow dumps a handful of eggshells into a bin under the kitchen counter before raising her eyes to mine. “I really shouldn’t say hassle. He just won’t get the hint. A change in figures won’t alter my mindset.”
“Why?” I’m not asking to be nosey. I’m genuinely interested in her reply.
I’ve seen firsthand the amount properties like hers fetch in Ravenshoe area. Instead of adding to the dark rings circling her eyes, Levi’s proposal could have her living on easy street, so why isn’t she considering his offer?
“Because money won’t make me happy.” Harlow’s tone indicates she isn’t one hundred percent confident with her reply. She wants to believe what she’s saying is gospel, but she knows as well as the next person that we live in a money-oriented world.
“Money won’t make you happy,” I agree, my tone more buoyant than hers. “But a sturdy foundation can.”
I bob down to assist her in cleaning up the mess. My suit is already ruined, so what are a few more stains between friends?
“If you’re treading in waters out of your depth, is it wrong to accept a lifejacket?”
I expect her to take a moment to deliberate my question, so you can imagine my surprise when she instantly replies, “Yes.”
“How?” My tone reveals I think her answer is ludicrous. “If you’re drowning, there is no shame in accepting assistance.”
“Colt Enterprises isn’t offering me a lifejacket; they want me out of the pool altogether.”
Now I’m the one sorting the facts. She has a point. A very solid one.
Although I somewhat agree with what she's saying, it doesn’t stop me from asking, “So baking cupcakes is more important than living comfortably?”
Harlow’s eyes rocket to mine. Her snarl tells me she didn’t miss the disbelief my deep tone couldn’t stifle.
“You’ve got to understand my astonishment! You’re sitting on a goldmine.” I gesture around her bakery that doesn’t just need an update—it needs demolishing. The space is spotlessly clean, but it doesn’t have the means to cook a Sunday roast, much less the products required to fill its cabinets every day.
“Yes, I am, “ Harlow agrees, nodding. “The foundations of my bakery are solid; it just needs some TLC—”
“Or a match and some gasoline. . .”
My reply falls short when the only egg not ruined during our tussle lands on the top of my head. Harlow mushes it in deep, ensuring it will take me at least an hour to remove the shards of shell from my hair, not to mention the ones her pained eyes stabbed my heart with. This isn’t just business to her. This is as personal as it gets.
Satisfied I’ve absorbed the silent warning that our conversation about her selling is over, Harlow rises to her feet. “I’ll have your cupcakes ready for pick up at 8 AM.”
Her dismissive tone hurts me more than my backside’s collision with the ground. Gone is the woman who stole the air from my lungs with one glance of her face, exchanged for one who appears lost and vulnerable.
After clearing away the remaining mess, I join Harlow at the stainless steel counter she's peering at, lost in thought. I want to kiss her until the impish gleam her eyes held earlier returns stronger than ever, but since I’m treading in foreign waters I swore I’d never wade in again, I harness my desire—barely.
Kissing her won’t make matters better. If anything, it will make them ten times worse. So, no matter how badly I wish it weren’t true, I can’t kiss her. Not now. Not ever.
I push down my disappointment with a quick swallow before advising, “I won’t have time to pick up my order tomorrow. Can you have them delivered to my office? I’m happy to pay for the courier service you generally use.”
While striving to ignore the gnawing sensation deep inside me, I hand my business card to Harlow. Although I’d give anything to experience this crazy, indescribable feeling again, the anxious knot in my gut is warning me to place distance between us before things grow more complicated than they already are.
This is a connection unlike any I’ve ever had. It's more emotional than impassive—which, if I’m totally honest, scares the shit out of me. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this alive, but I’m certain it comes at a cost. One I’m not willing to pay again. So for that alone, I must trust my instincts instead of my heart.
“My business address is on the bottom of the card; anyone can accept delivery, just tell them they're for me.”
Although Harlow’s lips twist as she takes in my credentials, she remains as quiet as a church mouse. I’ve never been a fan of noise until now. I’d rather have her girly giggle piercing my eardrums than be bound by her silence. It reminds me of a quote my mom always said, “At the end, you'll not remember the words of your enemies, only the silence of your friends.”
“McGregor?” Harlow murmurs a short time later, blessing me with her syrupy sweet voice.
I nod, praying this is one time my infamous surname remains anonymous.
Before I can ask what caused the extra flutter in her thin neck, Harlow asks, “You’re a talent scout for Destiny Records?”
The confusion in her tone makes my lips arch. “Not exactly.” When she glances at me with her adorable nose screwed up, I explain, “It’s a long story. One neither of us have time to tackle right now.” Even more so since glimmers of the woman I was interacting with earlier have resurfaced. I’m glad she’s back, but I’m also aware it only gives me seconds to flee before I once again become snared by her hunter’s trap.
After glancing at the clock displaying it's nearly 10 PM, Harlow nods in agreement. I thought her earlier mention of being awake since 3 AM was an exaggeration; only now am I realizing it wasn’t.
“I could arrange to have your order delivered, but I’m not sure I should trust couriers with your shipment. They barely deliver my cake boxes in one piece, and they’re empty during transport.”
“Then why don’t you bring them?”
I mentally slap myself. I’m supposed to be putting distance between us, not encouraging additional visits.
Harlow glides her hand around her scarcely lit bakery. “This doesn’t run itself.” She swivels on the spot as she silently contemplates. “I could deliver them before I open? It will be early, but your order will arrive safely.”
“Alright, that could work. What time?” I try to act as if I didn’t hear the hope in her voice. My attempts are half-assed.
She props her hip on the glistening counter before suggesting, “Around seven?”
I cringe. There is only one reason I wake up that early. It isn’t for sugary bundles of joy. Although from the way Harlow’s teeth rake her bottom lip as her eyes continually scan my body, I begin to wonder if cupcakes will be the only sweet thing on offer tomorrow?
Snubbing my disturbing—a
nd highly wishful—inner monologue, I mutter, “I’ll make sure someone is at my office then.”
“Okay,” Harlow agrees again, nodding more assertively this time. “Then it’s set. I’ll meet you at your office at 7 AM tomorrow.”
Stealing my chance to reply that from here on out I must avoid her like the plague, she presses her lips to the edge of my mouth. Any hang-ups I’m having vanish in an instant when her sugar-scented breath fans my lips. She smells as scrumptious as I’m sure she tastes.
Pretending I don’t have hair full of egg and a heart just as messy, I return her embrace before promptly retreating. With the business side of my brain overruled by its less astute counterpart, faking disinterest seems more of a choice than a requirement. I want to know if she tastes as sweet as she smells. I just wish I could find out without complicating things.
“Until tomorrow?” Harlow’s voice is ten decibels lower than mine and one hundred times hotter.
Even though I command my head to shake, it bobbles instead. “Until tomorrow,” I parrot, unworthy of the fight.
After a dip of my chin, I make a beeline for my town car idling at the curb. Harlow and I started our night as strangers, but I already know her well enough that I don’t need to look at her to know she’s eyeballing my backside for the umpteenth time this evening. Her heated gaze is felt from my egg-covered scalp to my sock-enclosed feet.
When I hit the sidewalk outside her bakery, I keep my eyes locked on my driver, praying his leering expression will stop me spinning on my heels and finishing what I started. I asked to kiss Harlow. She gave me permission without any hesitation, so why the fuck am I parading around town with an egg-smeared face and an erection?
The solution for my predicament is a more-than-willing participant, yet I’m walking away from what could potentially be something great because I’ve either become more like my father than I’d care to admit, or I’m even more spineless than I was when he was alive.
My driver’s smile grows the closer I get to him. My staff have never seen me like this—wild and carefree. They see the man I had intended to show Harlow tonight. I’m not stern. I’m just smart. Well, I was until a woman who is as beautiful as she is mischievous blindsided me.
When I enter the warm cab of my Bentley, my driver’s eyes stray to the rearview mirror. The halfhearted grin on Augustus’ face turns smug when he observes my disheveled appearance in closeup detail. I glower at him, warning him I’m two seconds from blowing my top. I’m not. I just don’t have a better defense, so I use the easy, more anticipated response.
After a quick swallow to relieve his throat of the rock my rueful glare lodged in there, Augustus pulls my car away from the curb. I wait for the lights of Harlow’s bakery to shine like a star in the sky before shifting my gaze sideways.
“Sorry,” Levi apologizes, his tone sincerer than his facial expression. “If you had forewarned me of your plan of attack, I wouldn’t have shown up tonight. I know you like getting your hands dirty, Cormack, but you left me flying blind.”
His eyes scan my egg-smeared hair and ruined suit. “Although some may say my arrival was a godsend. I’ve had a door slammed in my face numerous times the past twelve months, but this is the first time Ms. Murphy has resorted to wasting food. With how deep her books are in the red, I’m surprised she can afford the loss.”
He stops talking as his face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Ah, you’ve always been as clever as you are smart. Why didn’t I think of this earlier? Don’t negotiate with terrorists. Run them out of town. Her sales have already fallen from the makeshift bakeries we placed within a mile radius of her shop. Now we’ve got her wasting ingredients she can’t afford to replace. Sheer brilliance. That's why you're the boss and I'm merely your pawn.”
Before I can respond to his inaccurate statement—the part about me arriving at Harlow’s bakery to purposely waste her products, not that we placed bakeries in her direct competition—Levi signals for Augustus to stop.
“Seriously, Levi? Again?” I ask when we come to a stop at the front of a Chinese restaurant on the outskirts of town. Although Levi’s obsession with a pretty Asian woman is well known amongst our colleagues, I pretend it isn’t, preferring to shift the focus away from me and my eggy night.
“This place serves the best dumplings in town.” Levi throws a bundle of bills to Augustus, treating him like a taxi driver instead of a chauffeur/security detail. “Drop back in around an hour. I should be done with my meal by then.”
“We all know you’re not here for the dumplings,” I grumble under my breath.
Levi shoots me a vicious sideways glare, revealing he heard my mumbled comment. “Just like I know you didn’t pretend we didn’t know each other for no reason.”
I keep my mouth shut, once again having no plausible defense. I did go into Harlow’s bakery with the intention of disclosing I'm a co-owner of the corporation attempting to buy her out. I left wondering who I am.
Harlow’s bakery sits on a parcel of land I need to extend my record label from a thriving mid-sector business to a global entity. My company has been based in Hopeton the past two years, but my wish to relocate it to Ravenshoe are well known amongst community members. My investment in this region is as vigorous as my college friend and business partner, Isaac’s. Our corporation, Colt Enterprises, is responsible for the massive increase in development and infrastructure in Ravenshoe the past four years.
Although I could live off my investments until my demise, financial stratagems and real estate takeovers are Isaac’s babies. My passion has always resided in music production. I'm the sole owner of my record company, Destiny Records. I'm also its only talent scout. I’m so determined to see the little guy succeed, I dig through the trenches myself to find the next musical prodigy.
My methods are unheard of, but highly effective. Rise Up’s skyrocketing success will be proof of that. It will reveal that I am not my father’s son. I worked for every penny I have. I tunneled through the shit and built an empire worthy of its soon-to-be Fortune 500 listing. Despite the words my father whispered on his death bed, I'm not a failure.
That's why I'll secure Harlow’s bakery. Relocating Destiny Records to Ravenshoe has been in motion for years. I can’t let anything or anyone get in the way of that. To restructure my plans to exclude Harlow’s bakery would cost millions. I’d rather buy her out than hand more of my hard-earned money to the pessimists who constantly tell the optimists they can’t do something.
With my family’s name granting me access to over six billion dollars in assets and funds, I could forgo the dream I’ve been inching toward since my college days, but with the blood of a fox and the determination of a hound, I refuse to back down. I don’t want my dad’s money. I don’t even want his last name, but I do want Harlow’s bakery, and I’m willing to do anything to get it.
I’ll even woo it away from her if I must.
Also by Shandi Boyes
Perception Series - New Adult Rock Star Romance
Saving Noah
Fighting Jacob
Taming Nick
Redeeming Slater
Wrapped up with Rise Up
Enigma Series - Steamy Contemporary Romance
Enigma of Life - (Isaac)
Unraveling an Enigma - (Isaac)
Enigma: The Mystery Unmasked - (Isaac)
Enigma: The Final Chapter - (Isaac)
Beneath the Secrets - (Hugo - Part 1)
Beneath the Sheets - (Hugo Conclusion)
Spy Thy Neighbor (Hunter - standalone)
The Opposite Effect - (Brax & Clara)
I Married a Mob Boss - (Rico - Nikolai’s Brother)
Second Shot (Hawke’s Story)
The Way We Are (Ryan Pt 1)
The Way We Were (Ryan Pt 2)
Sugar and Spice (Cormack)
Bound Series - Steamy Romance & BDSM
Chains (Marcus and Cleo)
Links (Marcus and Cleo)
Bound (Marcus and Cleo)
Restrained (Marcus and Cleo)
Psycho (Dexter)
Russian Mob Chronicles
Nikolai: A Mafia Prince Romance
Nikolai: Taking Back What’s Mine
Nikolai: What’s Left of Me
Nikolai: Mine to Protect
Asher: My Russian Revenge
Infinite Time Trilogy
Lady In Waiting (Regan)
Man in Queue (Regan)
Couple on Hold (Regan)
Standalones
Just Playin’ (Presley and Willow)
COMING SOON:
Skitzo
Colby
