I offered a chilly smile. “Is that all the information you have right now, Sheriff?”
“Those are the facts,” Connor said stiffly. “Everything else is theoretical.”
Just then, I heard the door to the cafe open followed by heavy footsteps.
“Hello? Anyone in here?”
It was Wes’ voice.
“What did I tell you?” I exchanged glances with Sam, before slipping out into the cafe area to greet the man who would hopefully become our employee.
8
“Hello?” Wes’ deep voice rolled into the kitchen. “Anyone in here?”
“What did I tell you?” Willa flashed me a triumphant smile and trotted into the kitchen.
I folded my arms. “Just make sure he can make sourdough. That’s all I care about.”
Connor’s eyebrows knitted together. “This is who you’re hiring?”
“Probably. We need help with this place. We have no experience with this kind of thing,” I explained.
“Of course you have experience. Didn’t both of you work here in high school?” Connor leaned around me, craning his neck to see the man Willa was greeting up front.
He has a good memory, I thought.
“We don’t know the first thing about baking. Believe me, I’ve tried.” I patted his shoulder as I passed him. “Considering what’s at stake, I think it’s best to get someone in here who knows how to bake sourdough.”
Connor’s frown deepened. “Give me his information. I’ll run a background check on him.”
“I can do that,” I assured him. Everyone was bound to find out about Wes’ criminal record eventually. Better to get out ahead of it, rather than trying to hide it. “Thanks for bringing over my mom’s things.”
Connor shifted his weight. “I also have a gift basket from everyone at the station—you know, a welcome back present, that kind of thing. It’s in the car. You want it here or up at your cabin?” The gift basket clearly wasn’t his idea, and it was probably the last thing he wanted to give us after Willa laid into him about his alibi. She really needed to take up yoga or something.
I smiled. “You can bring it in here. Tell everyone thanks.”
With a grunt of acknowledgement, he took a slow walk through the cafe, shooting a sideways glance at Willa and Wes who sat at one of the tables.
The tall dark-haired man from the bus still had on his creased dress shirt, but he’d rolled up the sleeves revealing his sexy, tattoo-covered forearms. His eyes roamed around the cafe as he spoke, “When you told me about this job, I didn’t know that you were the owner.”
Willa folded her slender frame into the chair, tucking one leg underneath her. “My sister and I are co-owners. We inherited it from our mother and now we’re stuck running it.”
Wes licked his lips, casually glancing my way. “You two could always sell it. This is a major vacation spot. Someone would take this place off your hands in a heartbreak.”
“No,” Willa said resolutely. “It stays in the family.”
“Just a suggestion,” Wes said.
Willa folded her arms, her sharp blue eyes sizing Wes up. “Do you know how to use any of those weird coffee machines over there?” She gestured vaguely to the espresso machine.
“Yes, I’m familiar with espresso,” Wes said.
“Great. You’ll make the coffees.” Willa paused, leaning back into her chair. “You’ll also have to get here at, like, four in morning to bake stuff. I don’t know or care what you decide to fill that case with every day, but just make it look good. Sam and I will order whatever ingredients you need.”
“You’re saying I have free reign of the kitchen?”
“The kitchen, the food, the coffee—everything. It can be your blank canvas or whatever,” Willa said. “As long as this place makes enough money for Sam’s hair appointments and my car payments, neither of us care what you do. Oh—and we’ll only take credit cards for the first month, considering you’re a felon and all. Cash is easy to steal.”
Wes closed his eyes, letting a slow breath out of his nose. “You don’t trust me, yet you still want me to work here?”
I spoke up. “Your last arrest was nine years ago, and it wasn’t for anything violent. You’ve been out for four years without getting into trouble.”
Willa nodded. “It’s nothing personal. I don’t trust anyone. At the end of the day, everyone’s just looking out for themselves. You stole money? A few cars? So what? The only difference between you and everyone else is that you got caught.”
Wes stared down as his clasped hands. “That’s an interesting attitude.”
I cleared my throat. “What my sister is trying to say is that we’d like to hire you full time for one month with the option to stay on as a employee if it works out.”
Wes gave me a measured look. “So what’s the catch?”
“No catch.” Willa got up. “You start tomorrow.”
“No, we’re not done here.” Wes held out his arm. “I have a few questions. You said that only someone desperate would want to work here, so be straight with me. What aren’t you telling me?” Again, he aimed the question at me.
I blinked, forcing myself not to get swept up in those deep brown eyes of his. “Well, um, you need to agree to three things.”
“I’m listening,” Wes said.
“First, you must make at least one loaf of sourdough every morning and put it aside for my sister and me. You can sell some of the loaves, but please make sure you have at least one loaf saved for us every day. It can’t be undercooked or burned—”
Willa cut in. “That’s very important.”
“You girls are really serious about your sourdough,” Wes said.
“Yes,” I said. “Very serious. You’ll have to make the loaves using our 150 year old sourdough starter, and you’ll need to follow the recipe we give you exactly as written.”
Willa flattened her hands on the table. “And don’t let the starter die or whatever.”
Wes pursed his lips. “It’s not the end of the world if a starter dries out. You can usually revive it, or just make a new starter. It will taste about the same after a couple weeks.”
“No, Wes,” Willa said. “This mother dough is special, and the consequences of killing the starter will be devastating.”
“OK, that’s a little intense,” Wes said. “But sure. We’ll keep the mother dough alive.”
“It holds sentimental value,” I said. “It’s been passed down through our family for over a century. It’s as old as this bakery.”
Wes raked his fingers through his hair. “No problem. What else?”
I shifted in my stiletto heels. My feet were officially starting to hurt, as was my head. “The second thing is that you need to stay away from the wood fire oven in the back. Use whatever you need in here, but never go into the back area.”
Willa raised an eyebrow. “And we’ll know if you do.”
Wes frowned. “I saw the smoke coming out of the chimney outside. You’ve got it going right now.”
“Yeah, so?” Willa asked.
“If I’m the baker, wouldn’t I need to use the wood fire oven?” Wes asked. “I love baking in those. You can make some delicious bread.”
“Don’t worry about that right now,” I said. “We just keep the fire going because… um, because my mom was superstitious. We’re not going to bake anything in there. It’s just something Willa and I agreed to do in memory of our mother.”
“It’s like lighting a candle for someone, but instead of a candle, it’s a wood fire oven,” Willa explained, picking at the rubber sole of her combat boot.
Puzzlement appeared on Wes’ face. “You can’t keep a wood fire oven hot indefinitely. How are you going to clean it?”
Willa shrugged. “Magic?”
But Wes wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “No, seriously. That thing is going to fill up with ash, and you won’t be able to bake anything in there.”
“We’ll take care of it,”
I said. “The last thing is that you’ll need to live on property. There’s a small cabin on the other side of the RV park. You’ll have to live there. We need you close just in case anything urgent happens at the bakery.”
“Urgent?” Wes studied my face. “Like what? We run out of coffee?”
“Yes, and other things,” I said. “I know it sounds a little strange, but if you can abide by our rules, you can really make this place your own. It could be a good opportunity for you.”
Wes nodded slowly. “I’m going to ask you two again. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing,” Willa and I said at the same time.
“OK.” Wes got up. “I’m sorry. I can’t work here.”
“What? Why?” Willa demanded, totally tipping her hand. “Aren’t you desperate for a job?”
Wes pushed in his chair. “I never said that.
“You implied it,” Willa said.
I closed my eyes and face palmed. There goes our baker.
Wes shook his head. “Listen, I’ve worked for people who did illegal things. That’s how I got into this mess in the first place.” His eyes wandered over the tables, artwork, and the shiny coffee machines. “This job sounds amazing, and I have so many ideas for what we could do.” His mouth turned up in an apologetic smile. “But you two are being kind of shady. Sure, I’m out of money, and I have a criminal record. But I did my time, and I’m not going back.”
He turned his eyes onto me. “A word of advice, Samantha, don’t take stupid risks with the law. There are better ways to make money.”
“I am not the criminal here.” I slid my hands into my back pockets, gazing down at my shoes. The way Wes was looking at me made me feel like he was recording my every detail. It made me feel self-conscious. “This isn’t a drug front or anything,” I said. “We’re not doing anything illegal.”
“Then explain to me why I just saw the sheriff walk out of here,” Wes said.
“He was a friend of our mother’s. He brought over some of her stuff,” I said, forcing my voice to go back to a normal level. “He’s also looking into the circumstances of her death.”
“Maybe that’s true.” Wes shrugged. “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re hiding something.”
All of a sudden, I wanted to convince this man to stay. I hadn’t expected a guy like Wes to be so fiercely protective of his boundaries. He wasn’t some screw-up burn-out. This man was smart and surprisingly prudent, and I had a feeling he had eyes that saw everything.
I want this man, I thought.
As, like, our baker. Not in any other way.
Connor trudged back into the cafe, the door banging shut behind him. He hoisted a huge wicker basket full of cheese and jams onto the counter.
I latched onto Connor’s arm, wheeling him around to talk to Wes. “Will you please tell this man we’re not doing anything illegal at this bakery?”
“What?” Connor sized up the prospective baker.
“This guy thinks the bakery’s a drug front,” Willa explained. “Would you mind vouching for us?”
“Don’t worry about it, ladies,” Wes said, heading for the door. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.”
“Why do you think something illegal is happening here?” Connor asked.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Because Willa is acting like a complete weirdo.”
“Me?” Willa said indignantly. “You’re the one lurking in the corner drooling over his muscles.”
My face flamed. Oh, I was going to kill her for that comment.
Wes’ eyes snapped back to me with new interest. The hint of a smile appeared on his face. “It wasn’t that. You ladies seem OK.” Wes turned his gaze to Connor. “I just know when someone’s not being straight with me.”
Connor shifted his weight, returning Wes’ stare. “And you think these two are lying to you?”
Wes folded his arms. “I know they’re lying to me.”
Connor pressed his lips together, holding Wes’ gaze for another long minute. “This place isn’t a front. The Cravens are good people. They’re eccentric, but they’re some of the best people you’ll ever meet up here. I knew Rebecca Craven well, and she was a law-abiding woman.”
“See?” Willa crowed. “We’re legit. Now, take the job.”
A Cheshire Cat smile slipped across Wes’ face. “You sound desperate.”
“We are not desperate,” I said calmly. “But we would very much appreciate it if you baked us a few loaves of sourdough. Please,” I added.
“So you want me bad, huh?” Wes’ biceps bunched under his shirt as he folded his arms.
I bit my lip, preparing to say something, but finding myself speechless.
“I’m just giving you a hard time.” Wes’ smile gleamed like the midnight sun. “Sure, Samantha Craven, if you insist. You got yourself a baker.”
“Great.” My relief was palpable. “I can show you where you’ll be living,” I said. “It’s right out back.”
Wes held out his arm. “Lead the way, boss lady.”
9
Wes and I cut through the RV park and climbed up the narrow set of wooden steps built into the hill. Patches of ice and snow clung to the stairs.
“Watch your step,” I said over my shoulder as I gripped the railing.
“I’m more concerned about you walking up these steps in those dominatrix boots,” Wes said.
“Wes, are you flirting with me?” I asked, knowing full-well he was probably checking out my backside.
“What if I was?” came his reply.
“Then I’d have to tell you that if you’re working for the bakery, you can’t be doing that.”
By now, both Wes and I were breathing hard from exertion. Had there always been this many steps to this cabin?
“And if I wasn’t working for the bakery, how would you feel about me flirting with you?” he said.
“That’s irrelevant. Assuming you’re taking the job.”
“I’m very interested,” Wes said, then added, “in the job.”
“OK then. Don’t flirt with me,” I said.
“I know there’s something you two aren’t telling me, but you seem to be on good terms with the local law enforcement.”
“We all went to school together,” I said. “Connor’s two years older than Willa and four years older than me. It’s a small town.”
“Is there something going on between him and your sister?” Wes asked.
I paused on the steps, caught off-guard by his question. “What makes you say that?”
“I figure there’s got to be some reason those two were barely able to make eye contact,” Wes said.
“That’s an interesting observation.” I continued up the stairs. “But just because you suspect something doesn’t make it true.”
“I know that. I also know I’m right a lot of the time,” Wes said amiably. “Want to hear my thoughts on you?”
“No.”
Wes chuckled. “If you change your mind, just ask.”
I ignored his offer. “The outside of the cabin doesn’t look like much, but trust me—the inside is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.”
“I lived in a cement room for five years, Samantha. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Right, sorry,” I said, flustered.
We arrived at the top of the stairs where there was a wooden porch built into the bluff with two rocking chairs flanking the painted door. I turned around, admiring the view.
With clear blue skies as far as the eye could see, the view was stunning. Below us were the log cabin-style touristy shops, including the bakery. Beyond that, you could see the winding blue curves of the Nenana River and the rolling green hills. A line of taller, jagged mountains cut across the horizon.
“What do you think of that view?” I asked.
“It’s truly magnificent.” His smile made his brown eyes sparkle.
I realized then that he was staring at me and not the mountains. “Wes, stop it.”
I motioned to the view. “I’m talking about the nature.”
“Oh, that view.” Wes nodded, the picture of innocence. “Yes, it’s very scenic.”
Rolling my eyes, I pushed open the door to the cabin and stepped inside.
Wooden flooring led up to a double-sided wood-burning fireplace in the center of the room with a rock mantle.
There was a daybed disguised as a couch on the right side of the room. Cozy embroidered pillows and a blanket with tassels on the corners were arranged on the bed duvet. A kitchenette took up the other side of the room complete with a mini fridge, convection oven, a hot plate, and some cabinets with pots and pans.
It didn’t have a sink, toilet, or bathroom, but that wasn’t unusual in Denali. The ground never fully thawed out, so that created some challenges with indoor plumbing.
Wes wiped his sneakers on the welcome mat, his eyes wandering around the cabin.
“We have a washer and dryer in a shed between your cabin and my cabin. It’s heated and you’ll have it all to yourself except when Willa and I do laundry. It’s got a couple of shower stalls, a toilet, a sink and a mirror,” I explained.
Wes nodded, silently taking everything in.
My mom had decorated it really cute, and she had often used it as a vacation rental during the summer and fall.
White twinkle lights hung along the rafters. Mountain-themed decorative plates stood upright on a shelf, interspersed with white candles. Framed paintings of Denali in different seasons took up the rest of the wall space.
I crossed the room, avoiding the knitted throw rug with my muddy boots, and thrust the curtains back. Sunlight flooded the space, shifting and blinking along the floor as it peeked through the trees that surrounded the cabin. “You can see the shed up there.” I pointed out the window. “And that’s our place right next to it. There’s a boardwalk that connects this place to the bathroom and to our place. As you know, it still gets dark pretty early. The boardwalk will keep you from getting lost or tripping over a root if you wake up in the night and need to use the bathroom.”
Wes still hadn’t said anything, and I couldn’t quite tell what he was feeling.
Bake or Die Page 6
