by Cameron Hart
“Is everything ok? I have ten missed calls from you,” Declan gets out all in a rush.
“Yeah, yeah, well, no, but not like what you’re thinking.”
“Out with it.”
“I need the name of the baker and bakery you got your cake from.”
There’s a pause.
“Seriously?” He growls.
“Yes.”
More silence. Then I hear muffled voices, one of which belongs to Luna.
“Luna says the cake was from Mad Batter Bakery, owned by Sienna Carmichael.”
“Sienna,” I say to myself. I curl her name around in my head. On my tongue, deep in my throat, all the way down in my chest. It punctures my lungs and becomes the very air I breathe.
“What is this about, then? What’s the big deal?” Declan sounds annoyed, but fuck if I care. My world is currently being turned upside down once again with the knowledge of being that much closer to my kitten.
“Declan!” Luna chastises him. It brings me back to the present and makes me snicker at the thought of the tiny little Luna putting Declan in his place. “Leave Cooper alone. He’s in love with Sienna, leave the man be!”
Declan grunts and I hear Luna giggle. “That true, Coop?” He asks.
“Yup. She’s going to be my wife.”
“Well, damn. That happened kinda quick, don’t you think?”
“Not at all. I’ve been going out of my goddamn mind waiting for you guys to get back from your honeymoon so I could find out who Sienna is. A week is too long to be away from her.”
“Listen, brother, I’m happy for you. Truly, I am. But I think you need to back off a bit. You’re coming off a little too strong, you’re going to scare the poor girl away.”
I sigh. “You’re probably right. But I can’t help it.”
“Don’t whine. And don’t be a creep.”
“Any other sage advice?” I joke.
“Don’t give up on her!” Luna shouts. “And be genuine. She can spot a fake from a mile away.”
“Got it. Thanks, Luna.”
“I’m hanging up now, Cooper. Don’t bother me again for at least forty-eight hours. The honeymoon isn’t over yet.”
“Declan! Oh my god!” Luna squeals. I chuckle, knowing she’s probably blushing right about now.
I put my phone down and take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. Declan is right. I’m going to come on too strong and scare her away.
In an attempt to slow down and not rush over to her right this damn second and kiss her soft, pink lips, I look up Mad Batter Bakery. There’s surprisingly little information available about the shop. No website, only the bare minimum listed on Google. I do, however, see that there’s an Instagram for Mad Batter Bakery. Clicking over to that, I start scrolling through the photos. Each one is incredible. Cookies meticulously decorated with lace trim, mouth-watering cupcakes, decadent cakes with intricate swirls of frosting. She’s truly incredible. How has she flown under the radar? Her designs, unique recipes, and the location in Brooklyn should all make for a wildly successful business. And yet, from what I can tell, she’s basically running a ma and pa type operation.
Good thing I’m co-CEO of White Knight Advertising. I think I just found my next client. Not that I’d charge her for my services, of course.
I look at my watch and see it’s almost three p.m. It’s been a whole thirty minutes since I’ve gotten Sienna’s name and information and I haven’t knocked down her door yet, which I think shows an immense amount of self-control.
But I can’t wait any longer.
I hop in my Lamborghini, the one ridiculous thing I own aside from my penthouse. My brothers, Declan and Asher, like to use a driver, but not me. It’s not so much the flashiness of the car – I mean, hell, if I really wanted to impress people, I could have gotten a Bugatti, but I always wanted a Lambo. Even more so since dear old dad said it was impractical and immature.
When the old man passed away last year, we all handled it differently. Asher became even more cold and distant, which is saying something. Declan seemed all keyed up on proving dad wrong, like he could show dad once and for all he was wrong to doubt all of us. Granted, our father was an asshole. Manipulative, always giving backhanded compliments, pitting us against each other. When he died, all I felt was freedom. Declan, Asher, and I didn’t have to fight anymore, we didn’t have to do what he said, didn’t have to perform. So, I got the car I always wanted and took it on a nice long drive the day after his funeral.
My phone barks at me, Siri saying that my destination is on my right. Sure enough, Mad Batter Bakery comes into view. Damn, the place even has parking. How did Sienna get this little gem of a location? And why isn’t her business blowing up? I guess I’ll find out soon.
Walking in the front door of the little shop, I take note of the bold way it is decorated. The floor is a classic black and white checker, the walls exposed brick. The décor is colorful and eclectic, including some callbacks to Alice in Wonderland. The tables and chairs are all mismatched, but in an intentional way. Each table has a teapot and a stack of mismatched teacups. It’s out there, but in the best way possible. Fun and quirky and perfectly marketable. Why hasn’t she done more to drum up business?
I finally get to the counter, where I’m greeted by someone who isn’t my Sienna.
“Hi, welcome to Mad Batter Bakery. What can I get for you?” The woman behind the counter asks. She’s smiling, a little too much, her eyes raking down my body. I’ve seen that look before. Hard pass. Now that I’ve seen my kitten, held her in my arms, no one else will ever come close.
“I’m actually looking for—”
I’m cut off by a loud crash from the back of the shop. I look over to the source of the commotion and see the woman of my dreams staring wide-eyed at me.
“You…” She squeaks out.
While Sienna comes to terms with the fact that I found her, I take a second to look her over again. Her hair is up in another messy bun and she has flour on her cheek. She also has a sleeve of tattoos that I didn’t see before since she was wearing a sweatshirt. Fuck that’s hot. I want to trace her ink and make her tell me the story behind every tattoo she has. Her sexy little mouth is parted, her lips forming a perfect little O. Aaaand now I’m trying to adjust myself discreetly before I scare Sienna off.
“Me,” I finally answer her with a smile.
“What… How… Why?” She’s freaking adorable all flustered and blushing. Sienna shakes her head as if trying to dispel her nerves and come up with a way to kick me out of her bakery. I welcome the challenge.
She clears her throat and tries again. “Cooper. What are you doing here?” My little kitten is trying to be cold, but the fact that she remembers my name shows that she’s been thinking about me too.
“I’m here to see you, of course.” Damn, reel it in. “I was thinking, I could offer my services.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically and bends over to clean up the metal bowl she dropped. Fuck, she’s so effortlessly sexy in her tank top and yoga pants. “Funny, I was thinking we’ve already gone over this. I don’t need or want your help,” she fires back.
“Ah, but didn’t I prove myself helpful before? Even when you were refusing me?”
Sienna doesn’t say anything, instead she grabs a broom and starts sweeping up the spilled flour on the floor. I glance over at the girl who greeted me and see she’s busy helping another customer. I slip behind the counter so I can get closer to Sienna.
When she looks up, she seems startled to see me this close.
“You can’t be back here,” she bites out, pointing at me with a wooden spoon. Her words say one thing, but her body language says another. I can see her chest heaving with shallow breaths. She’s trying to be angry with me, but her pupils are dilated. She likes what she sees, and that makes me want to beat my chest with pride. I can practically see her pulse racing in the side of her neck, and Jesus, do I want to kiss that spot and make her squirm.
; “I just want to talk. You know I’m co-CEO of White Knight Advertising, right?”
She snorts, somehow managing to make even that adorable. “Co-CEO? Couldn’t quite hack it on your own then?”
Her words hit a little too close to home, hurting more than I think she meant them too. It’s ok, though. I know she’s being defensive. She feels threatened and vulnerable and she’s not sure what to do with that. I can take whatever she dishes out.
“My brothers and I are all CEOs. But that’s beside the point. I’d like to help get this place on the map. You’re quite talented and you have a great location. I can set you up with a website and give you a social media presence. I can get some paid ads going on Google and Facebook, get your name out there. What do you say? Free of charge, of course.”
She stares at me, though not with the gratitude I was hoping for.
“No.”
“No?” I truly was not expecting that. I thought this would be my in, a way for me to work with her and spend time with her.
“That’s right. Not used to hearing that word, are you? I’ll say it again. No. I don’t want your services. Thanks but no thanks.”
“Can I ask why?”
“You can, but that doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” Her eyes flash a challenge at me, the hint of a smirk playing at those soft lips of hers.
“Fair enough,” I smirk at her, letting her know I’m up for her games, whatever they may be. “Are you a native New Yorker?”
She doesn’t say anything, she just turns and goes back to whatever recipe she was working on before she dropped the bowl. I watch as she measures out the dry ingredients in one bowl, sifting the flour and stirring in baking powder and a few spices. She’s absolutely mesmerizing.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no,” she clips out. At least she’s answering me, however begrudgingly it may be.
I grin, knowing I’m getting to her just a little bit. “Not that you asked, but I was born and raised here,” I say.
“Oh yeah? Silver spoon and all?” She says sarcastically.
“Well, yeah. I mean, how else would I eat my caviar?”
Sienna tries, unsuccessfully, to hide her smile. She turns the bowl over and dumps a ball of dough out on the lightly floured counter and begins to knead it. I can’t help but appreciate the way her slim, toned arms flex as she folds and manipulates the dough.
“How long have you been open for business?” I ask.
She gives me the side eye, probably picking up on my not so subtle innuendo.
“The bakery has been here for a year.”
“Where did you learn to bake?”
“My grandma,” she grits out after punching the dough with a little more force than necessary.
“Are you two close?”
Sienna closes her eyes and clenches her jaw, taking a deep breath. The mood has shifted, and I know I pushed too hard.
“She’s dead. Is that what you want to hear?” She snaps, her hands going to her hips as she turns around and glares at me.
My stomach drops at the thought of her experiencing any kind of pain, any kind of loss.
“No, of course not, I’m sorry—”
“What’s all this about, anyway? I told you I don’t want your help or your pity service or whatever. Why are you still here?”
“It’s not pity, I’m just trying to get to know you—”
“I don’t want to be known. Please leave.”
Well, fuck. This is not going how I planned at all. What does she mean she doesn’t want to be known? Too damn bad, she’s mine and I’m going to dismantle her defenses and get all of her secrets. I’ll know every single thing about her, what makes her laugh, what makes her cry, what makes her scream in pleasure.
There’s no hiding from me, sweetness, and when you’re ready, I’ll show you what it means to be loved like you deserve.
“I’m sorry if I came off too strong, Sienna.”
Her face turns deathly white and she backs into the counter, gripping the edges to hold herself up. I step towards her, hating the way she’s cowering in fear over something I said. She flinches, which makes my heart squeeze painfully in my chest. I just want to comfort her, but something I did made her this way.
“How do you know my name?” She whispers.
“I asked my sister-in-law who you made the beautiful wedding cake for. You remember Luna?” I say in the most calming voice I can muster. I want to hold her and ask her what the fuck she’s afraid of, but I know I can’t do any of that right now.
“Right,” she breathes out, her shoulders relaxing and her grip loosening from the counter. Sienna closes her eyes and takes another deep breath. Then, her eyes snap open and she shoots a death glare my way. “You,” she spits out. “Out. Now. You’re trouble, and I don’t need trouble.”
“Sienna…”
“Out. Get the fuck out of my kitchen.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. I’m at a complete loss for words and I have no idea how to get her to let me stay. I spooked her and that made her feel weak, so now she’s lashing out. I get it. But I don’t like it.
She doesn’t say anything, just stands there with her arms crossed over her chest in a defensive stance. Her eyes are hard and her chin is held high, but I see her trembling despite her strong front.
I back away, but not before looking into those beautiful eyes of hers. “I’d never hurt you, Sienna.” I silently plead with her to trust me.
For a brief second, her walls come down, allowing her eyes to flood with conflicting emotions. I see pain and pride, defeat and determination, fear and fierceness. But then anger takes over and her walls come up once again.
In a last-ditch effort to connect with her, I reach into my pocket and get a business card. I write down my cell phone number on the back and place the card down on the counter. I try to think of something else to say, but I come up empty.
Taking a deep breath, I do the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I walk away from Sienna. I’ll be back for her, though. I just have to change up my tactic, regroup a bit. She’s mine, and I protect what’s mine.
Chapter 3
Sienna
I manage to finish out the day in the shop, despite being rattled to my very core. Now I’m sitting on my couch with a much-deserved glass of wine. I mean, who the hell does Cooper Knight think he is?
Oh, right. Cooper Knight.
He thinks he can just waltz into my bakery and turn on the charm and… and… what? Sleep with me? Is that his end goal? I won’t lie, my lady parts like that thought. A lot. And sure, I want to believe him when he says he just wants to help, that he won’t hurt me, but fuck, I’m not that stupid.
I won’t become my mom, always going from guy to guy, looking all wide-eyed and pathetic and crying about her problems to any man who will listen. I saw what kind of company that behavior attracted. Hell, I lived with that kind of company. The kind who hand out favors with strings attached. The kind who say anything to fulfill some carnal need, and then bail the second things get too real.
That’s probably why I’m still a virgin at twenty-one. I don’t trust anyone, period, let alone trust someone enough to be that vulnerable, that exposed. My mom taught me how to spot charismatic, manipulative bastards. Granted, this lesson came rather inadvertently on her part, as it was more just her showing me what not to do. Nevertheless, it’s a skill I’ve honed over the years. I’m hardly ever wrong. Then again, I don’t really give people the chance to prove me wrong, but still.
Cooper Knight is a bastard.
Right?
I can’t tell. And that right there is a red flag.
He’s arrogant, that’s for sure. And charming. Too charming. He offered to give my bakery a nifty little marketing face lift, which I’m guessing is worth a few thousand dollars. And that’s another thing. He’s rich, like, richer than anyone I’ve ever known. All of these signs point to someone who wants to use me and throw me away.
But then… ther
e’s his eyes. The way he looks at me, really looks at me. And I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about the way it felt to be in his arms. All week I’ve replayed those few moments we shared, him pulling me into his chest, touching my face so sweetly, peering into the very depths of me and refusing to back down. You can’t fake that, right?
I’m sure my mom thought that dozens of times though, and each boyfriend only seemed to get worse the more desperate she got. Which is why I won’t ever go down that path. I refuse to need anything from anyone. I’m fine on my own, I’m making it work. So what if I’m a little lonely? Small price to pay for being independent.
So then why have I been folding and unfolding the corner of Cooper’s business card all night?
“Damnit,” I curse under my breath.
I put the card on my coffee table and stare at it as if it betrayed me. I should throw it away. Really, I should. And I will. Totally will. As soon as I get up. But first I need to finish my wine. And maybe snuggle up with my fleece blanket…
“Now we let the dough rest and rise,” Grams tells me.
“But why? Can’t we use it now?”
“Ah, so impatient, Sienna. We have to give it time, you can’t rush these things if you want fluffy, flakey cinnamon rolls.”
“But why?”
“So full of questions lately,” she smiles. “I love that about you. Always curious. We have to let the dough rest so that the yeast – that little packet we added – can react with the sugar. The yeast eats up the sugar and then releases a compound called carbon dioxide, which makes the dough expand.”
I nod studiously, trying to parse out her words and make sense of them.
Grams laughs, it’s a warm sound that always makes me laugh along with her.
“That’s probably way too detailed for a six-year-old,” she says, shaking her head.
“It’s ok. What’s cardboard die oxen?” I ask.
“Car-bon di-ox-ide.”
“Car-bon di-ox-ide,” I repeat. “What’s that?”
“How about I give you a science lesson later? I have a fun experiment we can do with Mentos and Diet Coke.”
