Don't Go Away Mad (Burgers and Brew Crüe Book 2)

by Lacey Black

“Are those cakes packaged and ready to go?” I ask my brother, who’s carefully stacking mini chocolate lava cakes onto a large tray for easier delivery.

  “Almost done,” he says, placing the final few small boxes onto the pile and giving me a satisfactory grin. “There. Perfect.”

  I return his smile before it drops away with apprehension. “Do you think the chocolate is a good choice? Too much?”

  He pats my hand, reassuring. “It’s perfect, Lyn. Really. Nothing says Happy Valentine’s Day like warm, gooey lava fudge cake.”

  I exhale deeply and nod. “Okay. Good. I’m going to get these loaded up. You’ll be good here while I’m gone?” I ask, slipping on my coat and grabbing my purse.

  “I’ll be fine,” he insists. “Besides, you’ll be back soon.”

  I glance around, making sure I have everything, and lift the heavy tray in my arms.

  “Let me get the door,” Dustin hollers, stepping outside and making sure there’s enough room for me to slip out without fumbling the tray stacked with mini cakes.

  Once they’re loaded in the back seat, I tell him goodbye and throw him a wave. It only takes me a few minutes to get to the restaurant across town. Jordan’s is a great little family-owned place that serves a wide variety of entrées. I pull up to the back door and prepare to unload my goodies for this weekend’s big Valentine’s Day promotion.

  “Hey, Lyndee, good to see you!” Dwayne says, meeting me outside.

  “You too. I have four dozen lava cakes for you,” I tell him, carefully pulling the tray out of the car.

  “That’s perfect! These are going to be a hit,” he insists, helping me carry the tray into his kitchen.

  When Mr. Jordan stopped by my bakery, it was to offer me a deal I couldn’t refuse. A partnership, if you will. It turns out, their dessert selection wasn’t selling, so Mr. and Mrs. Jordan thought it would be great if I provided the desserts for their restaurant, and in return, they promote my business with signage and mentions. After all, word of mouth is the best form of advertisement, right? It’s my first weekend as their exclusive dessert provider, and it’s a big one.

  Valentine’s Day weekend.

  “Lyndee, these are amazing,” Mr. Jordan announces, glancing inside one of the boxes. “The perfect dessert for two.”

  I smile proudly. “Thank you. I hope they’re a success for you.”

  “And for you,” he replies, closing the lid on the box. “We have you listed prominently on the menu as the dessert provider for the weekend. Plus, every time one of the servers offers the dessert, your name will be mentioned.”

  “I appreciate this. Thank you,” I state again.

  “No, thank you. I think this partnership is only a small step for you. Plus, that big write-up in the paper won’t hurt either,” he adds with a chuckle.

  “Write-up?” I ask, confused as to what he’s talking about. That letter to the editor was weeks ago, but I definitely don’t see it as helpful.

  He looks at me with surprise in his eyes. “You don’t know? The newspaper printed a retraction today.”

  “What?” I ask, my chin practically unhinging from my jaw.

  He turns around and grabs a newspaper from a table along the back wall and hands it to me. There, on the front page, is my business name and a photograph of my front window. The headline reads, “Sugar Rush is Here to Stay. Local Business Owner Apologizes for Letter.”

  I skim the article, only to stop and reread the entire thing a little more slowly the second time. It’s a retraction, written by Jasper Kohlmann. He talks about how amazing the pastries are and explains why he said the things he did. When I get to the end, my heart feels like it’s trying to claw out of my chest.

  “Oh my God,” I mutter, glancing up and trying to wrap my hands around what I just read.

  “Right? I didn’t know you and Jasper knew each other.”

  “We went to school together,” I mumble, even though he already knows that, since he read the article.

  “I just hope we can still work together, even after you get bigger,” he says with a chuckle.

  “What?”

  “Well, this is going to do wonders for your business, and I’m sure you’ll eventually get so big you won’t have time to make desserts for my little ol’ restaurant anymore.”

  I reach over and squeeze his arm affectionately. “Not going to happen. You took a chance on me when everyone else was running the other way. You helped save my business, Mr. Jordan. You and your wife will have desserts for as long as you need them.”

  He smiles softly and pulls me into a hug. “Thank you, Lyndee. I’m happy to do business with you.”

  “Likewise.”

  After a few more minutes of chitchatting, I head back out to my car and drive to the bakery. When I turn down the block, I’m shocked to see people. Tons of people, lining the sidewalks, coming and going from my business. I quickly pull around back and run inside.

  “Thank God you’re here,” Dana bellows. “All of a sudden, this place just got crazy. We’re almost out of pastries!”

  I glance up front and find every table full and a line from the counter to the door. Daisy and Dustin are up there, filling white paper bags with treats and paper cups with coffee. I grab the tray of scones and muffins I had already prepared for tomorrow and take them up front.

  By the time we close at two, there isn’t a treat left in the shop.

  I flip the closed sign and drop into the first chair I come to. “Holy shit,” I mutter, still trying to process what just happened.

  “I don’t want to complain, but what the hell was that?” Dustin asks, transferring himself into the extra wheelchair we keep in back.

  I laugh and grab the newspaper sitting on the counter. I don’t have to open it, just hand him the paper with the front page on display. “This happened.”

  Dana and Daisy lean over Dustin’s shoulder and read the article. I catch their gasps of disbelief, and their eyes wide with astonishment. “Holy crap!” Daisy proclaims.

  I sit back down, my legs tired, and glance across the street, still trying to wrap my head around what I’ve read.

  What he did.

  For me.

  “What does this mean?” I ask to no one in particular.

  “You mean his very public apology? The fact that he not only admitted he was wrong, but that he made it up?”

  “Yeah. That.”

  Dana starts to laugh. “It means he loves you.”

  Tears cloud my eyes as I look back out the window. The door opens and a young couple walks out, his arm thrown over her shoulder as he guides her down the sidewalk. I can’t help but feel envious of them. Of their public display of affection. Of the way he seems to shield her from the cold breeze behind his coat.

  “What do you need?” Daisy asks, setting a cup of tea in front of me.

  “Nothing. You guys all have plans tonight,” I remind them. Dustin and Dana are having dinner to celebrate Valentine’s Day tonight, since Mallory and Walker’s wedding is tomorrow night, and Daisy is going out with girlfriends. “I have some work to do now to get ready for tomorrow.” You know, considering I sold all of the pastries I had prepped for Saturday.

  “But you have the wedding cake to finish,” Dustin reminds.

  “It won’t take me very long. It’s already made, I just have to decorate it.”

  After thirty minutes and a lot of convincing that I was indeed fine, I’m left alone on a Friday night, with a to-do list a mile long. I glance around, trying to figure out where to start.

  Donuts, muffins, and scones.

  Plus, pies and cookies.

  Well, it’s not going to bake itself.

  I might as well get busy.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Jasper

  I’ve been standing outside the bakery on the sidewalk, watching her work, for a while. There’s something so calming, so soothing about the way she moves, how she works efficiently and quickly to prepare whatever she’s working
on.

  She places a tray of cookies into the massive oven and grabs something from the refrigerator. It’s a two-tiered cake, the bottom layer chocolate and the top white. It reminds me of a wedding cake, and to be honest, for the first time in my life, I can picture myself in front of one.

  With Lyndee beside me.

  But let’s not put the cart before the horse. Right now, I just need to get her to talk to me. I assume she saw the article, or at least, I pray she did. Otherwise, my plan will go completely to shit in a matter of seconds. No, it won’t. I’ll just have to back up and start at the beginning.

  The way I should have the last time I was here.

  I know this door will be locked, so I move around to the alley behind the building. The moment I reach the door, I’m overcome with the familiar scents of sugar and cinnamon. It reminds me of her, of my sweets. I take a deep breath and knock on the door.

  My heart literally climbs into my throat while I wait.

  A few seconds later, the door opens, and there she is. A beautiful breath of fresh air, like the first spring rain to wash over you. It’s glorious, refreshing, perfect.

  Like her.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey,” she replies, glancing around and clearing her throat. She looks so small, as I tower over her, yet so unbelievably gorgeous with sugar granules on her cheek and flour in her hair.

  “May I come in for a minute?” I ask nervously, trying to play it cool. I’m sure the last thing she wants is for me to burst through the door like the Kool-Aid Man and take her in my arms.

  “Uhh, sure,” she replies, stepping back and granting my entrance.

  I glance around, noticing the canvas photos she got for her birthday hanging on the wall and mountains of ingredients all over the island. “Those look great there,” I tell her, nodding toward the photos.

  She nods slowly, hanging back and waiting. After a few very long seconds, she finally asks, “Is that what you came here for? To approve of where I hung my art?”

  “No,” I insist immediately. “I came here to apologize the way I should have weeks ago.”

  “You did apologize,” she reminds me, referring to the lame excuses I threw at her the day she discovered that letter.

  “I did, but not the right way.” I take a step in her direction, and I notice she doesn’t back away. I take that as a good sign. “I shouldn’t have just told you how sorry I was, I should have showed you. But the truth is, I was afraid. I was terrified of not being what you really wanted or needed. I was scared of falling for you, and you realizing you can do so much better than me. I’m a jerk. A complete asshole more often than not, but the truth is, you made me want to be better. You brought color into my black-and-white world, and I’m a hell of a lot better with you than I am without you.”

  Deep breath.

  “I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me for what I did, but I pray someday, you will. I never should have said those things, even in a stupid email, but worse, I didn’t even mean them. Because the truth is, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I fell in love with you, and if I have to spend the rest of my life trying to earn your trust again, then I’ll do it, because I’d do anything for you.”

  She starts to cry, and it kills me—literally, I feel my heart breaking in half—to see her tears. Especially knowing I’m the asshole who put them there.

  I move toward her before I can even stop myself. “Please don’t cry, sweets,” I whisper, cupping her jaw in my hand and wiping away the wetness on her cheeks. “I hate to see you cry.”

  “These are good tears,” she insists, offering me a small smile and a sniffle.

  “No tears are good ones,” I tell her, pulling her petite body into my own.

  She sighs, reaching back and clutching my shirt in a death grip, as she hugs me. I feel my own tension release, my body starting to relax for the first time in weeks. “Thank you for the retraction.”

  I rest my chin on the top of her head, and just breathe her in. “I’m sorry it took me so long to write it. You deserved it immediately, and for that, I’m truly remorseful.”

  “But you did it now, and I’m grateful. I was completely packed today,” she says, sniffling and glancing up at me. Her eyes finally shine like chocolate diamonds, brilliant and stunning.

  “You should have been all along,” I add, still hating the fact she took a hit to her business because of me.

  She shrugs. “I was working my way back up. Mallory told me not to give up or to go down fighting, so I was trying a few things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, Jordan’s and I partnered to use my baked goods at his restaurant. Tonight’s the first night they’re available with dinner,” she says, giving me a proud smile.

  My heart drops to my shoes. “Jordan’s?”

  “Yeah,” she says, giving me an uneasy look.

  “The place with the rubbery chicken and lumpy mashed potatoes?”

  Instead of getting upset at me, she just shakes her head and grins. “Stop it. Just because it’s not Jasper-prepared perfect, doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with his food or his menu. In fact, when I was there this afternoon, he mentioned they have almost a full house worth of reservations tonight and tomorrow.”

  I grumble, but not much. Even though it’s not my taste of food, mostly because they cook more blandly, I can appreciate what ol’ Dwayne did for Lyndee. Joining forces with her was probably one of the best business decisions the guy could ever make.

  I’m just pissed I didn’t think of it first.

  “You’re right,” I tell her, pulling her back into my chest and just breathing her in. “I’m just jealous he thought of it before I did.”

  She chuckles, it floating to my ears as the most beautiful sound in the world. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

  I pull away and meet her gaze. “You’re right, I will. As long as I have you by my side. I’m sorry I was such a dipshit, sweets. I love you.”

  She grins, her eyes watery once more. “I love you too.”

  And then I kiss her. Finally. Our lips meet slowly, tasting and savoring the feel of the other, as if it had been too long since we’d felt the other against our mouths.

  And it had.

  Too fucking long.

  That was my fault, and you’ll be damn certain I’ll never make that mistake again.

  Before the kiss can deepen, a timer sounds. “Shoot,” she mumbles, pulling away. “My cookies.” She turns and runs to the oven, pulling out the large tray of freshly baked cookies.

  I glance around, really noticing how much baking she’s been doing and how much she still has to go. “What can I do?”

  She gives me a questioning look before a smile spreads widely across her lips. “How are your baking skills?”

  I walk to the sink and scrub my hands. “Excellent. I do believe the last cake I baked, I earned a gold star.” I throw her a wink and a smirk over my shoulder and finish washing up. When I turn around, I add, “I’m all yours. Put me to work.”

  And she does.

  We work side by side for the next several hours, slowly crossing everything off her list. While I’m taking muffins out of the oven, she finally sits down to work on the cake.

  “That’s a pretty fancy cake for the front case,” I observe, watching as she quickly smooths a layer of icing over the outside of the cake.

  “It’s a wedding cake. For tomorrow.” She moves to the refrigerator and pulls out a tray of gorgeous flowers made of fondant.

  “Tomorrow, huh? I happen to know of a wedding happening then. Across the street, actually,” I reply, placing the final tray of muffins in the oven to bake. Setting the oven mitt on top of the island I turn to face her.

  She’s smiling. “So I’ve heard,” she murmurs, concentrating on adding intricate details to the side of the cake.

  “You know, I can take a date. If I want.”

  “I already have plans tomorrow night. A wedding,” she quips witho
ut breaking concentration.

  I can’t help but grin. “Yeah? So you can go with me.”

  “Nope,” she states, popping the P. “I already have a date.”

  My blood runs cold as I meet her gaze over the top of the cake. Jealousy slides effortlessly through my body, rendering me unable to move. “You do?”

  “Sure.” She shrugs. “Dustin and Dana are coming with me.”

  When she smiles, the anxiety is replaced with serenity. “Interesting.”

  “What is?”

  “Well, you’re going to be there. I’m going to be there. Jameson’s gonna play music, so there’ll be dancing. If you’re lucky, I’ll save you a dance or two.” I lean against the island, watching her every move.

  “Only a dance or two?” she jibes, her eyes dancing with laughter as she feigns anger.

  “Well, how many do you want?” I ask, stepping up and taking her in my arms. “I do have a busy night.”

  She gazes up at me and grins. “All of them.”

  And then I kiss her, reveling in the rightness of feeling her in my arms. The one made for me.

  Sure, we’re not perfect. Lord knows I’m definitely not, but with her beside me, I feel confident I can be the man she needs.

  And maybe even get her all riled up every now and again, because there’s nothing cuter than seeing fire in her eyes and a smile on her lips.

  Maybe getting her mad every now and again isn’t so bad.

  Besides, the making up is proving to be well worth it.

  Epilogue

  Lyndee

  I’ve never seen Burgers and Brew look like this. The place is empty, closed to the general public, on the busiest night of the year. Valentine’s Day. There are gorgeous white and red linens covering the tables and dark red rose centerpieces adorning every flat surface.

  In the bar are chairs, all facing the small stage where I once saw Jameson play. Right now, that’s where Walker stands beside a minister from a local church. The room contains family and friends, all here tonight to witness the union between husband and wife.

  Jameson sits off to the side, strumming a gorgeous melody on his guitar as the rest of the small group takes their seats. I’m here, with Jasper on one side and my brother and Dana on the other. Isaac sits directly in front of us, while the rest of the staff are scattered behind.