Saxon's Soul (Haven, Texas Book 5)

by Laylah Roberts

  Okay, thoughts like those were just going to get her into trouble. Well, more trouble.

  “Women! You’re all so sensitive about every little thing.”

  Really? He thought she was being overly sensitive about his crude references to her and Saxon having sex?

  “You know, I think I’ll just leave.” She picked up the box she’d set on the counter and took a step back.

  “Now, no need to get your panties in a twist. Set the box down. Let’s see what you’ve got. I’m talking about the pie, in case you’re wondering. Not you personally.”

  “Glad we got that cleared up.”

  “This day and age you never know when someone’s going to misconstrue what you say and scream sexual harassment.”

  “Right, because, of everything you’ve said to me, that’s what I would take offense to?”

  “Hey, I’ve been downright polite and gentlemanly. Haven’t once raised my voice, have I?”

  She just stared at him. Was he for real?

  “I’m surprised you haven’t already been fired for sexual harassment.”

  “Which is why I don’t work with women no more.”

  “Yeah. That’s the reason.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Got a mouth on you for such a little thing, don’t you? Surprised Saxon puts up with that.”

  “You know him well?” She knew she shouldn’t question him but she was burning with curiosity about Saxon. Even though she’d heard stories of the way he liked to interfere in everyone else’s lives, when it came to his own life, no one seemed to know him that well at all. Except for Jake, she guessed. The sheriff and Saxon were close. Apparently, Jake had been married to Saxon’s sister, who’d died a few years ago.

  It was difficult to imagine him with a family.

  Really, Aspen? Did you think he was just hatched? More likely created in some laboratory, because it was very hard to believe he was that gorgeous naturally.

  The other man shrugged. “Well enough, I guess. I know that the subs he usually gets involved with are always well-trained, and obedient. He likes to be in charge and not just when playing. He’s definitely not into brats with smart mouths.” He reached out and flipped open the lid of the box.

  Smart mouths? Like her? Not that it mattered to her what his type was anyway.

  He sliced a piece of pie, moving it to a plate. He held it up to the light and studied it. “Hmm, looks good.”

  “Don’t sound so enthusiastic, I can’t stand that much praise,” she said dryly.

  He gave her a look. “Appearances mean nothing if it tastes like dried-up cardboard.”

  “It does not taste like dried-up cardboard,” she retorted. She took a deep breath then let it out slowly. Damn, he was infuriating.

  He put the plate down and reached for a fork.

  “Is he going to call this place Saxon’s?” she asked curiously.

  He snorted. “That would be damn confusing. Could you just imagine people turning up next door for their dinner reservation? Here, ma’am, would you like a paddling to go with your dessert?” He laughed, clearly pleased with his joke.

  She rolled her eyes. Then looked on, surprisingly anxious as he forked up some pie and tasted it. His face gave nothing away as he swallowed.

  “Well?” she asked impatiently.

  “Not bad.”

  Not bad? “It’s better than not bad! My pies sell out at the diner.”

  “Well, that’s the diner. This is a fine dining establishment.”

  “I’m not selling them here!”

  “We’ll see. You had any training?”

  “In what? Baking? No.”

  He grunted. “You make anything other than pie? Or are you a one-hit wonder?”

  She knew who she’d like to hit. She forced herself to loosen her fists. “Yes, I can.”

  He ran his gaze over her. “Don’t know. They say you should never trust a skinny baker.”

  “Is that what they say? Tell me, what do they say about grumpy, rude chefs?”

  His lips twitched. “They say you should do exactly as they tell you.”

  “That so?”

  “Got a temper on you, don’t you? You look kind of meek and mild. Was worried for a moment that you’d start crying as soon as things heated up. Can’t have that in my kitchen. Don’t know if I want someone arguing with me all the time, though.”

  “Then I’ll just leave.” He wasn’t making much sense anyway. She kind of felt like she’d fallen down the rabbit hole and found the Mad Hatter.

  She reached for the box, and he snatched it out of her hands.

  “Hey, give that back.”

  “You can’t go until we’ve worked out terms.”

  “What terms? What are you talking about?”

  “Renard!” the voice snapped through the kitchen, making her freeze. She turned as Saxon walked into the kitchen, his presence sapping all the oxygen from the room. He was frowning, his gaze on whatever he held in his hand. “The next time you decide you need some special ingredient, give me more notice, will you? I was already ten minutes out of Freestown when I got that call from Thomas. And could you please make more of an effort with him . . .” His voice died as he looked up and spotted her standing there.

  “Aspen, what are you doing here?”

  “I . . . uh . . . um . . .” she stumbled over her words, completely thrown by the coldness of his voice. This wasn’t the man she’d spoken to earlier. There was an impatience about him.

  “Whatever the hell is going on between the two of you, you’re going to have to put it aside while I work out some terms with the girlie. Better yet, why don’t you both find other bed partners? Mixing pleasure and business is never a good idea.”

  Both of them turned to Renard, who was looking way too pleased with himself.

  “What are you talking about now, Renard?” Saxon snapped.

  Renard pointed at her. “Meet our new pastry chef.”

  She gaped at Mr. Renard. “What?”

  “The pie is suitable. Need to see what else you can do, though. Want to make sure for myself it’s not just pies you can do.”

  “Pie? What pie?” Saxon asked.

  Renard turned to him. “She brought you a pie to make up for whatever she did. I told her she’d be better off just giving you a blow job. Might put you in a better mood, that’s for sure. You been acting like a bear with a sore paw lately. Now that you’re here the two of you can work out the terms. I got better things to do.”

  “Wait. Just wait.” Saxon held up his hands. Then he took in a deep breath. “I think I’ve missed something here.” He turned to her. “You brought me a pie?”

  She could feel herself blushing. “Yes. It was a kind of peace offering. But then the guy that opened the door, Thomas, is it? He told me you don’t eat dessert.”

  “Did he?” Saxon looked thoughtful.

  “Tried to run her off,” Renard said cheerfully. “Damn good guard dog you’ve got there. Too bad he’s a complete prick.”

  “You should talk,” Saxon muttered so quietly she was certain Renard didn’t hear him.

  “You really bought me a pie as a peace offering?” He looked surprised.

  “I kind of thought I might have, well, overreacted earlier. And that I might have come across as ungrateful. I’m not. It was just the way you went about things that I objected to.”

  “Is that so?” Saxon’s voice was slightly cool.

  She resisted the urge to fidget. “Yes. So I made you this pie.”

  One eyebrow rose. “You made it?”

  “Yes. I can bake,” she said defensively.

  “She sure can. It doesn’t taste like shit,” Renard added helpfully.

  She sent him a caustic look. The huge man just shrugged. “Thought it was best to tell him that. He might be thinking you poisoned it or something.”

  “I don’t make it a habit to go around poisoning people.”

  “Guess you haven’t known Saxon that long then. Give him time,
I’m sure he’ll piss you off enough.”

  “Right now, it’s not him I’m considering poisoning.” She glared at him, but he didn’t seem to understand she was talking about him.

  “He won’t get it,” Saxon told her. “He’s completely oblivious to how obnoxious he is.”

  “I am,” Renard agreed.

  She just shook her head.

  “So if you brought me the pie, why is he eating it?” Saxon waved his hand over at Renard.

  She sighed. “I really have no idea.”

  “I wanted to make sure it wasn’t shit. Pretty sure I explained that. Multiple times. Good news is it isn’t.”

  “Wow that is high praise, indeed,” Saxon said sardonically.

  “It is. Now you need to hire her.”

  “Hire me? Hire me for what?” she squeaked.

  “As my pastry chef. Seriously, are you daydreaming again?” Renard gave her an impatient look. Then he waggled his finger. “Won’t be any of that when you’re working for me, understand? I run a tight ship. You’ll be doing as you’re told and any slacking off will be dealt with by me.”

  “I don’t think so,” Saxon said in a low voice that sent a shiver across her skin. She’d never heard him speak so coldly.

  But instead of looking worried, Renard appeared satisfied. “Ah, it’s like that, is it?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “What is?” she asked confused.

  “She’s under my protection. Any problems with her, you come through me first.”

  “Suits me fine,” Renard told him. “She slacks off, I’ll just send her to you for a spanking.”

  “What?” She back away from them both, her hands held up. “You know what, you can just keep the pie. I have to go.”

  “Stop,” Saxon commanded.

  She stopped but shook her head. “I don’t know what the two of you are going on about.” She pointed at Saxon. “But I am not under your protection.” And then she moved her finger to Renard. “And you are not sending me to him for a spanking.”

  “Shame. Would be easier that way. Takes responsibility out of my hands.”

  “I am not anyone’s responsibility. I really don’t understand what’s going on and I don’t think I want to.”

  She took another step back.

  “Aspen, you step out of that door without my permission, and we are going to have trouble.”

  She stared at him in bewilderment and a slight touch of fear.

  “Saxon, you’re scaring her.”

  “I think we’re both managing to do that.” Saxon watched her carefully, but all the coldness had seeped from his face. Instead, he looked concerned.

  “She’s not your sub, is she?”

  “No, she’s not.”

  “Oh, hell. I just figured she had something to do with the club seeing as she was knocking on that door, rather than your place. Should have figured she wasn’t when she gave me attitude, but I thought you’d finally figured out that a bit of fire could be fun. Nothing wrong with a brat now and then. So long as she’s a brat who knows the rules and has strict boundaries.” Renard winced as he looked at her. “She looks frightened. Didn’t mean to do that.”

  Surprisingly, she thought that was real regret in the big man’s voice.

  “I’m not scared.”

  “What did I tell you about lying, little one?” Saxon’s voice wasn’t really scolding though, more like a caress. The knot in her stomach unraveled slightly.

  “I don’t really understand what the two of you are talking about, but I’m not letting anyone spank me.”

  “Renard, give us a few minutes, will you?”

  “Sure.” He walked towards her. Stopping about a foot away he reached out. She flinched, and he dropped his hand, looking shocked. “I wasn’t going to hit you. I’d never do that.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “You wanted to send me to him for a spanking.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not abuse. Hell, you might actually think it’s fun.” He winked at her then sighed. “I didn’t mean to scare you, little rabbit.”

  Her shoulders straighten. “I’m not a rabbit.” Sure, she might act like it sometimes. But that wasn’t the real her.

  He tilted his head, studying her. “No, I can see that. But when you wrinkle your nose you sure do remind me of one. Gives me a hankering for rabbit stew.” He turned to Saxon. “You need to get me some rabbits.”

  “And where do you suppose I can get those from?” Saxon said in exasperation.

  “You’ll find a way.” Renard left, grumbling to himself.

  She turned back to him. “Is he for real? Rabbit stew?”

  “He can make anything taste divine. He’s talented. It’s the only reason I put up with him.”

  “I’m not sure even his talent is enough.”

  “Sometimes, neither I am.” He moved behind the counter and grabbed a couple of plates and spoons. “Let’s try this pie, huh?”

  “I’ve got to get going.”

  “Aspen, you’re so tired you’re swaying. Sit for a moment. No doubt you’ve been on your feet all day. What time did you get up this morning?”

  If he’d snapped and snarled at her she could have resisted. Would have walked out. But this softer, cajoling side of him was too difficult to resist.

  “Five.”

  “Didn’t your shift at the diner end a few hours ago?”

  She looked at her watch. “Yeah. I stayed behind to bake a few pies. They always sell well over the weekend. And the extra money is handy.”

  “Your mom’s with the boys?”

  “Yeah. Thanks again for taking her into Freestown the other night.” Another example of him helping her out.

  She sat in the chair he pulled out from the small table by the wall. He then grabbed two plates, filled them with generous slices of pie, and sat at the table to her right. “Want a drink?”

  She shook her head and forked up some pie. Her hand shook slightly, and she hoped he didn’t notice.

  He didn’t say anything so she figured she was safe. She took a bite of the cherry pie. The rich crust melted, leaving her with tart berry.

  “Renard is right. This is really good,” Saxon told her.

  “You don’t need to sound so surprised.” But she smiled to show him she didn’t hold it against him.

  “Do me a favor, don’t tell Renard I said he was right. He’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

  “Where did you find him?”

  Saxon sighed. “On a street corner.”

  “What?”

  “I was in the marines with him. Few years ago, I got word he’d been medically discharged. He was suffering from PTSD and living on the streets. Only thing that helps him with the stress is cooking. I found him, got him some help, and a job in a restaurant. He lasted about three months before he was fired.”

  “No? Really? But he’s such a charmer.”

  “While Renard is a damn good cook he is hopeless at dealing with people. He’s worked in several restaurants, and every head chef has fired him.”

  “So now you’ve hired him as head chef here.”

  “Figure the only way he’s going to be happy is if he’s running the show.”

  “You set this restaurant up for him, didn’t you?” she asked in a flash of understanding.

  Saxon’s expression was shuttered, giving away nothing. “I’m opening this restaurant because it’s a good financial move. There’s no fine dining around here, and we need it. It will attract more people to Haven, especially when they taste the food. And it might bring business to the club.”

  “You need more business at the club?”

  “Not really,” he admitted.

  She knew he was wealthy. Any idiot could see that. But to open a restaurant just to help someone who was as unfriendly as Renard? That was the next level.

  They finished their pieces of pie. “Renard was serious about hiring you, you know.”

  Heat flushed her cheeks. “That’s very kind of him, but
—”

  He snorted. “Kind is not a word I’d use to describe him. And it’s not really a favor he’s doing you. Working with him would be hell. He’s run off the last three pastry chefs I hired.”

  Yeah, she could see how working with Renard would be hard on a person’s nerves.

  “He really thought I was your sub, didn’t he? Which is why he said he’d send me to you for an . . . uh . . .”

  “Spanking,” he said with some amusement. “You can say the word. It’s not a bad one. Although, we both know you don’t shy away from using bad words.”

  That had the red in her cheeks deepening until she felt like she’d been out in the sun too long. “I’m trying to stop that bad habit.”

  “Hmm, I’m good at helping naughty little subbies stop bad habits.”

  Her eyes widened, her breath catching in her lungs. “Just as well I’m not submissive then.”

  “Aren’t you?” he murmured.

  “No. I’m not. And I really have to go.”

  “Freeze.”

  She stilled, and he smiled. When she realized she’d immediately obeyed him, she frowned and jumped to her feet.

  He reached over and clasped her hand in his. “You’ve got real talent, Aspen. And you spent more than five minutes in Renard’s presence without running away screaming or hitting him over the head with a rolling pin, which puts you ahead of anyone else I’ve hired.”

  “I thought about smashing my pie in his face.”

  “Be a waste of good pie. Although, I understand the sentiment. I’ve had similar thoughts.”

  “I’m not looking for a job.”

  “It pays better than what you’re earning at the diner. You’d be able to work less hours and spend more time with your boys.”

  Damn. He knew exactly what to say to appeal to her, didn’t he?

  “I’d have to work with Renard, though.”

  He nodded. “Yes. Which is a definite downside. But there could be side benefits.”

  “Medical?”

  “Certainly. But I was thinking more along the lines of something else.” His gaze heated, and he watched her with interest.

  He couldn’t mean what she thought he did, could he?

  “I-I don’t know.”