by Ellie Hall
He should’ve known her angle after she’d cheated on her previous boyfriend—a CEO of a tech company—when she and Teagh were first together. Teagh had no idea she wasn’t single. She’d swindled him with stories of how she was lonely and wanted a real relationship with a strong man like him. She’d used the tech guy and then moved onto the next guy, which happened to be Teagh. Then repeated with Darren.
For a second, Teagh pitied Darren, but it was fleeting. For Darren’s part, he’d known the two were married and had even been a guest at their wedding. Teagh hadn’t known she was with the tech guy or else he wouldn’t have gone on that first date with her. Darren shouldn’t have allowed Teresa’s advances. Then again, she had a sly flirtatiousness that many men, himself included once upon a time, could hardly resist.
That night, with the idea of his ex-wife stalking around somewhere in the city and the baker also close by, he could hardly sleep. He tossed and turned, watching the glowing clock on his nightstand click slowly through the long hours until it seemed a reasonable, if not an extremely early hour, to finally get up.
He left for the gym before dawn, knowing he’d avoid Teresa since she preferred sleeping in and having breakfast in bed—brought to her by her latest manservant and boy toy. Poor Darren.
As he turned up the rock music and fell into the rhythm of the speed bag, he recalled the baker asking to keep the music down and then the fateful moment the day before when he’d heard the commotion outside. He thanked God he hadn’t turned his music up like usual. Leaving the red speed bag flying back and forth, he turned his music down.
Still, the close call the baker had experienced and the fear in her eyes lingered in his mind.
Teagh returned to his drills, punching in a rhythmic pattern when a solution came to him. He finished the workout sans blasting rock, toweled off, then went next door to the bakery just as it opened.
Something buttery and chocolatey in the air with a hint of almond reminded him of holidays as a child. Even though he was warm from the practice session, something inside thawed slightly. It had been a while since he’d seen his parents, but they’d soon be visiting for his cousin’s wedding.
The line in the bakery was nearly to the door. He had no intention of ordering anything—he’d already downed the muffin from the box she’d given him earlier. Mostly, he stuck to a high protein and nutrient-dense diet for his training regime to support lean muscle but had been eating more than his share of take out lately. He blamed it on the move and gym launch, but he really needed to get his act together and fill the pantry at the new flat, especially before his mother arrived. She’d be sure to reprimand him since she’d taught him how to cook.
His skills went unappreciated during his marriage. Teresa had always wanted to eat out if she ate much at all.
His training diet didn’t ordinarily include indulgences like muffins or eating out, nor did his goals allow for distractions like neighbors who baked, but he got in line at the bakery anyway.
As it moved forward, he caught sight of Sophie, greeting every customer with a smile. A pretty smile. One that probably made her customers glad they got out of bed and ready for work with time to spare to stop in to see her and sample some of her delicious baked goods. The line shuffled forward.
“Good morning, Teagh,” her voice broke into his thoughts. “What do they say where you’re from? ‘Top of the morning to you’?” Again, she laughed her musical laugh.
He almost laughed because she was far off the mark. “No, good morning will do.”
“It is a good morning.” Her eyes were bright in the morning light.
He wanted to ask why that was, especially since she’d nearly been attacked the evening before along with a close encounter with his ex who was a terror in her own right.
Instead, he said, “Sorry about—” He didn’t even want to say Teresa’s name. “Anyway, I’d like you to come to the gym and learn self-defense.”
If he’d been able to, he would’ve taken the words back, though not the sentiment. A flush filled him on the inside because more than anything he needed to defend himself against his growing attraction to her.
A grunt escaped as he inwardly scolded himself. Because of course there was no better way for him to dull his sudden desire than for the two of them to get sweaty. His sarcasm must’ve shown on his face when really, he meant to direct it at himself.
She took a step backward as though on the receiving end of a swift punch in the gut.
Chapter 5
Sophie
Sophie’s good morning suddenly turned sour.
The expression on Teagh’s face, after he asked her to take self-defense at his gym, landed hard for two reasons.
One, it reminded her of the close call she’d had the day before, making her feel helpless and vulnerable much like her mother’s near-constant warnings, articles, and text reminders did. She’d done everything in her power not to think about it that morning because she knew she had to tell her mother but was dreading it.
Two, his expression was so upset, so much like an admonishment, a punishment for interrupting his workout or whatever he’d been doing the day before and inconveniencing him that she actually staggered back.
The line of customers was nearly to the door and she shook off the overwhelming emotions, plastered on her smile, and said, “That’s thoughtful of you but not necessary either, at the moment. Did you want a tea?”
“Aye.” He held out a five-dollar bill.
She shook her head. “Your money isn’t good here.”
“In that case, are you sure I can’t convince you to trade some classes?” His expression had softened from solid rock to something slightly less hard, like cement.
Jonathan tilted his head as though listening in on the conversation as he prepared the tea.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you,” she said matter of fact.
“At least let me see you home safely later.”
As she opened her mouth to answer that it wasn’t necessary, especially not after seeing what was sure to be drama involving him and his ex in their building, Jonathan called, “Teagh.” He totally butchered the pronunciation.
She rather liked the name. It was unique and had a playful quality that somehow didn’t quite match his personality. But maybe it was there, hidden under his stony features, the ripped muscles, and the personal history she’d witnessed the evening before in the foyer of the building.
Teagh’s expression darkened as he snatched the cup from Jonathan. His eyes captured hers for the briefest moment before he exited.
Her gaze followed him past the window and she imagined him entering the gym, but after that, her vision stopped even though a part of her wanted it to continue. What did he do besides listen to loud music and punch things, rescue women in alleys, and have standoffs with who she assumed was his ex?
There was no logical reason for her curiosity. He was the opposite of the typical guys she was interested in—not that there were many. In fact, she’d moved away for a new beginning and was admittedly still feeling fragile after everything that had happened with Hayden. Jennifer had told her to move on, let it go, but she was slow to heal.
As the morning wore on and she returned to the kitchen, her thoughts repeatedly landed on Teagh, the idea of relationships, and all of the reasons she wasn’t ready. Not with him, not with anyone.
As she mixed up the ingredients for a batch of rosemary-pear scones, she paused.
It had nearly been a year since she’d broken things off with Hayden. Although, last time she spoke with her mother, word had spread that she’d dumped him because she had a little girl’s dream of being a baker instead of living a woman’s life of luxury as his wife.
She rolled her eyes. It figured that Hayden would’ve turned it around to make her seem like the bad guy. No, he was a bad guy and there was no refuting that. He’d cheated and although she believed in forgiveness, there wasn’t enough good in their relationship to try to salvage things.
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br /> The truth had all become very clear as he made up excuses, mostly about how she didn’t give him enough of her time or attention. But his parents also wanted him to marry someone with a better pedigree, making her feel like little more than a dog—not that there was anything wrong with dogs.
When the Berwick’s found just the right girl who’d bend to his every whim and from a family with financial connections, they insisted he break things off with Sophie, even though she’d already told him it was over. The whole thing had just gone so wrong. Her emotions were layered: sadness, disappointment, anger. But she already spent what felt like a lifetime dwelling on it.
As Sophie cut the cold butter into the flour, she drew a deep breath. Jennifer was right. It was time to heal. Time to move on.
A bushel of apples from a farmer just outside the city was on one of the work tables. She hadn’t decided what to do with them yet.
There was the saying ‘when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.’ What did you do when life gave you apples?
After staring at the fruit, she decided to make a pact with herself. By the time all the apples were gone, she’d forget about everything that had happened with Hayden.
Keisha was back after her bout with food poisoning and in the front with Jonathan. She still needed to learn the ropes, but Sophie figured that between the two of them, they could handle things. Of course, as the business evolved, Sophie was adding, changing, or modifying various procedures and preferred to train everyone herself, but she had some letting go to do and needed to catch up on baking. She’d review things with them both later, particularly safety measures.
She tied on an apron with a wide red frill and dotted with apples and polka dots, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work. By the late afternoon, Sophie had made cinnamon apple scones with maple glaze along with brown sugar, apple, and oatmeal muffins, apple blondies with caramel, apple bread with crumble on top, jumbo apple crisp shortbread squares, apple and honey cookies, and apple pie cupcakes. Once she’d gotten started, she couldn’t stop.
She tipped the bushel that had contained the massive quantity of apples to find that there was one left. She took it out, polished it on her apron and took a bite then another and another. When the apple was little more than a core, she whispered, “Hayden, I officially let you go.”
The kitchen was a mess, but if any of the customers had any doubt as to whether it was apple season, they wouldn’t after the next day. It was practically an apple festival. She had a Honey and Lavender Facebook page where she posted all the specials. For the next few minutes, she arranged all the new goodies on platters, made signs, labeled them, and then brought them to the front.
Keisha and Jonathan helped as she took a few photos in the lingering light of day then posted them online. She added captions that teased her followers with descriptions of what they were in store for the next day thanks to her apples-galore-baking extravaganza.
Keisha pointed to one of the items in the basket. “These look delish.”
“My mother taught me how to bake these apple crisp shortbread squares. I wish I could send her one.”
“Someday we will be able to send things like food wirelessly,” Jonathan said in a confident tone.
“Like teleportation?” Keisha asked.
“Kind of. It’ll involve the breakdown and reconstitution of matter.” Jonathan went on to explain more.
“So what you’re saying is that I’ll be able to say something like, ‘Call Mom’ and then send her a cookie?”
He nodded.
She snorted with disbelief while Keisha muttered what she was really thinking—about how the world would become a weird, but maybe wondrous place when that happened.
There was a lull in customers and Sophie took the opportunity to have a little meeting with Keisha and Jonathan. She went over protocol for calling in sick, an idea she had for taking online orders to be ready for pick up, and described what had happened the previous day with the man in the alley.
“Obviously, your safety is of utmost importance. Moving forward, we’re going to employ a buddy system. The trash goes out while two or more of us are here. In other words, we go out back to the dumpster together while there are still two people here. If for some reason only one of us is here at the end of the day, I’ll provide a sealed bin we’ll keep inside where all the trash can go until the following day.”
“That’s scary. I’m glad you’re okay,” Keisha said.
Jonathan scowled. “If I’d been here, I would’ve—” He formed a mitt with one of his thin hands and punched it with the other.
Sophie held up her hand. “Thank you, Jonathan, but there’s no need for anything to get physical. Thankfully, Teagh, next door, heard the commotion and came outside to help me.” Warmth passed over her lips and crept toward her cheeks as she spoke his name.
“Was that the guy who was in earlier? The hot hulk?” Keisha’s eyebrow arched in question.
Sophie started nodding then stopped herself. Hot hulk?
The gesture seemed to encourage Keisha. “The bad boy boxer babe with the tattoos?”
Sophie swallowed thickly. Babe?
“Did you know that I have a tattoo. Two actually. One is of a vintage computer processor.” Jonathan lifted his shirt sleeve to reveal a green rectangle with what looked like circuitry running through it on his scrawny arm. Beneath that was a poorly done alien head in green ink.
Keisha subtly rolled her eyes. “Those are nothing like the ones Sophie’s hunky hero has.”
Once again, her cheeks heated. Hunky hero?
“When he’d reached for his tea, I saw the edges of what looked like tattoo sleeves peeking out from his shirt sleeves.” Keisha shimmied her shoulders.
“He’s a boxer so it probably comes with the territory,” Sophie said, trying to shake off the tingling sensation as she thought more about Teagh and how very manly he was. When she’d seen him boxing the morning before, his arms were bare and there were definitely tattoos.
“I would personally take him up on those self-defense classes even if he is a bit older than me.” Keisha was practically swooning. “Ah, what I’d do to have a handsome, strong, guy like that in my life.” Keisha sighed and then started to go on about the failed date she’d been on when she got food poisoning. As she started to describe how she’d gotten sick in front of him, Jonathan cut her off.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Tea-g-h just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
“Hey, I was telling my story of woe and how I’d have liked for my date to have rescued me instead of being revolted by me then abandoning me in my time of need.”
As the two started to bicker, Sophie’s phone beeped. She found it under a basket of muffins and shook her head. She really needed to keep better track of the thing. It was her mother calling. She answered without thinking.
“Sophie Lynette Johannsson. You butt dialed me and I heard the whole thing. But my big question is why didn’t you call me last night and tell me what happened?” Her mother’s southern accent was stronger than ever.
Her stomach sank. The last thing she wanted to do was cause her mother anxiety. “It wasn’t a butt dial—” she started to say then stopped.
After she’d posted her results of the letting-go-of-the-past apple-baking extravaganza, she must not have turned off her phone or it accidentally dialed her mother. Then she recalled saying, “Call Mom,” when they were joking about the technology of the future. Sophie ducked into the kitchen to keep the conversation private.
“Whatever it was, young lady, I heard the whole thing. I am down here beside myself with worry. My nerves are tighter than a hair in a biscuit. After all the warnings I sent you, cautioning you about that city and the people in it. A dangerous, no good, vile place. You just can’t be too careful. I do not want you alone. Not for a second.”
The sinking sensation lifted like a fishing bobber in a lake and gave way to a tightening of Sophie’s jaw. She knew her mothe
r meant well, but she was supposed to be on her daughter’s side, encouraging and supporting her. It didn’t help her confidence to be undermined and thrust into a constant state of fear that she was going to fail, the city was going to swallow her up, or that she wasn’t cut out for doing anything other than being Hayden’s obedient wife—a position her mother had been rooting for her to take on.
“If you heard the whole thing, you’ll have noted I made a plan for us to take out the trash in pairs.”
“Well, it sounds like you’ll need more than the couple of employees you have. The way you told it, a stiff wind could blow the guy over and from what I heard the girl is sickly.”
“Mom, she had food poisoning. Anyway, the man in the alley was desperate, hungry. He made a bad choice, but if—”
“I’m just as much about charity as the next person, but under no circumstances is a man going to come at my daughter with a knife and threaten her. I’ll put the fear of God in him myself if I have to.”
“I know you would, Mom,” Sophie cut in. She wondered if he’d found the box of baked goods that she’d left for him. “I think I’ll just try to fill his belly.”
“Sophie Lynette Johannsson, you will do no such thing. No, instead, you’ll get a police escort or at least take up that boxer fellow’s offer to teach you self-defense.”
She bit her lip. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. What did you tell me the other day about not trusting guys with tattoos?”
“Well, that was more about jailhouse tattoos. Hayden had a tattoo if I recall.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. He’d gotten it on a guys’ spring break trip during college and it was of his fraternity’s logo. “Exactly.”
“Promise me you’ll go take those classes or else I’m coming up there and acting as your personal bodyguard.”
“Mom!”
“Promise me, Sophie.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll take the self-defense class.”
“With your hunky hero,” Lewellen said.
“You really heard everything, huh.”
