by Shyla Colt
“Oh.” Kasey covered her mouth. “He didn’t tell you?” She mocked surprise. Her rosebud lips were begging to be punched.
Alaric tossed the paper on the table. “This is ridiculous.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Rosaleen said.
“I’ll let you two talk. See you later, Al.” Kasey wiggled her fingers, putting extra sway in her steps as she walked away.
“Wait, you haven’t even seen the paper yet, why are you upset?”
“Did you tell people I was having issues with Ryan?” she questioned through gritted teeth.
Alaric glanced away. “I might’ve said you had a pesky ex hanging around to let people watch out for you.”
“Why?”
“He confronted me at the shop. I felt like the warning was a legitimate next step.”
“Oh my gosh. He was the disgruntled non-customer,” she whispered.
He nodded.
“Why did you hide this?”
“Because I didn’t want to add to your stress that day. Later, it slipped my mind.” He shrugged.
“You don’t get to decide what information involving me is important and what’s not. I’m a big girl. I don’t need to be protected.”
“Need isn’t the same as should be. I protect those I care about, sugar. You should know that by now. You’ve warned him off a number of times. I figured it was my turn to take a shot and provide you with back up if he returns. The man’s convinced you’re going to return to him.”
The fact that he’d gone after Alaric set off mental alarms.
“Did he actually start a fight?”
“No. Just lip service.”
“Jesus.” She shook her head and glanced down.
“Battle of the Sexes this Pumpkin Bake Off.” The headline jumped off the page. Underneath, the pictures of her and Alaric placed side by side stunned her.
“This year, hometown born Alaric Bulley is challenging the gender standards as he entered the running for Pumpkin Queen. Should we look out for a king? If he bakes like his mother, Joan Bulley, reigning champion, we just might. Newcomer bakery owner Rosaleen Plath is new on the scene and looked at as a favorite to win. One thing is for sure, the bake off is going to be one to watch this year.” Tossing the paper onto the table, she shook her head. “Are you kidding me?”
“Well, you got some free publicity,” he said.
“Not what I had in mind.” She glanced around, feeling as if all eyes were trained on them.
His phone jumped on the table. Picking it up, he groaned.
“What?”
“Mom just saw the paper.”
“I’m sure Kasey was all too happy to text her the minute she left.”
“I’ll talk to Kasey.”
“’Cause that’s been helpful so far.” She glanced down at her watch. “Crap. I need to get back. Finishing off her coffee, she stood. “Never a dull moment here.”
“No,” he sighed. “I’ll call you tonight.”
She nodded. “Talk to you then.”
One step forward and two steps back.
She threw herself into work to keep her mind off Kasey, her smirking Whoville-like face, and the article that tried to turn the competition into gossip fodder to sell more papers. Deep down she knew half of the traffic was lookie-loos who’d read the paper and wanted to see her in person, but their money filled her tills and she’d like to think she was one step closer to being accepted. Nothing said one of our own like being whispered about around town.
As the last hour crawled by, she turned Stella and nodded toward the front door. “Go ahead and cut out of here early.”
Her almond-shaped brown eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. You have a term paper to write, don’t you?”
She laughed. “I do.”
“Go on. It’s been dead. I can handle things for an hour.”
“Thank you, Ms. Rosaleen.”
She laughed. Oh, to be a young, college-aged procrastinator. Amused, she watched as the girl gathered her stuff and rushed off, mind already on the paper. Scribbling notes onto a sheet of loose-leaf she kept behind the counter, she worked on possible recipes for pumpkin rolls. She’d made two so far, and the third was baking. Tonight, she would sample and compare. Then she’d allow the girls to sample her two picks. Pleased with her progress, she tidied up around the store as she thought of how to put a spin on pumpkin bread and pumpkin pie without pissing off the judges. Mid-westerns liked their traditional flavors. They’d walk on the daring side but only if the payoff was worth taking a dip in the unknown waters. I could try a pumpkin spice bread. She thought of mimicking a pumpkin spice latte complete with a decadent topping. Excited, she began to assemble ingredients and prepare the bread to rise.
The oven beeped, and she rushed to the back, donning her Sailor Moon oven mitts. Removing the pumpkin roll from the tray, she allowed it to have enough time to cool to handle. Carefully peeling off the baking paper, she rolled it up in a towel, and set it aside to cool. Keeping an ear out for the bell, she began to make the frosting. The spiced pumpkin praline roll called for filling and coating. After measuring out the cream cheese, she added the other necessary ingredients and allowed the pink mixer to do its job.
The bell rang. “I’ll be right with you.”
She set the mixer on low, washed her hands, and spun on her heel. Rushing out, she came to an abrupt stop as Ryan appeared in the doorframe.
“What are you doing here? You can’t come back into this area.”
“I’m not just some customer.”
She scoffed and brushed past him into the hallway. “No, you’re worse.”
“I’ve been punished enough, Ros. I know what I did won’t be tolerated again.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” She marveled at his ignorance. He was so smart he was stupid as her grandmother would say.
“Isn’t it? We both know that hayseed woodworker isn’t your type.”
“And I suppose you are?” she asked, exasperated, as her blood boiled.
He smirked. “We know I am.”
“Alaric is everything I need.”
“Please don’t insult me.” Stepping forward, he pressed her back against the wall. He struck like a snake, pressing his mouth to hers.
“Ugh.” Disgusted, she moved her face to the side and shoved him backward. “This is not a game. I don’t want you. I’m happy with Alaric. He’s everything I didn’t realize I wanted. He’s kind, considerate, and good with his hands. I love him.” Holy hell, I love him.
Ryan blinked, jaw flapping open and shut like a marine creature dying on land. “You’re kidding, right? Haha. Way to make the ex jealous.”
“I’m not, and I want you to leave,” she said firmly.
“I spent ten-grand—”
“And no one asked you to do that,” she countered, refusing to be guilted.
“You must have had a great time laughing at me. You and your new boy toy,” he sneered, morphing his fair face into something monstrous. Anger flashed in his eyes and fear slithered into her belly.
“It wasn’t like that. You know me.”
“You’ve shown me how little I know this new Rosaleen. Did it make you feel good? Getting your revenge?”
“Stop this,” she commanded.
“Do you know how foolish I’m going to look returning home with my tail tucked between my legs, still single.”
“Of course.” She threw her arms up into the air. “This is about appearances, not love.”
“You leave everything you’ve worked for to run to the middle of nowhere, and you think you’re better than me?” he seethed. “You used to be on board with everything you pretend to scorn.”
“All I ever wanted was your love, Ryan. You were the one who needed the perfect persona.” He opened his mouth, and she held up her hand. “Uh-uh. None of this matters because that was the past. Move forward and don’t come back or I’ll be forced to report you to the authorities.”
<
br /> His eyes narrowed into slits. “You think you can threaten me now?”
Swallowing hard, she mentally measured the distance to the front entrance. Is he truly capable of hurting me? She didn’t want to hang around and find out. Drawing up to his full height, he loomed over her, tense and tightly coiled. She moved a split second before he exploded into action. Racing for the front, she cried out when his long-legged stride caught up with her. Grabbing her arm, he spun her around, nearly jerking her arm from its socket as he forced her to face him. The violent jingle of bells rooted them both to the spot like trees.
“Take your hands off my women.”
She’d never been so grateful to hear Alaric’s voice. Taking advantage of the interruption, she stomped on Ryan’s foot.
When he released her with a cry, he bent over, and she kneed him in the crotch. Gasping, he fell to the tiled floor, clutching himself. A knee came up in a blur. Blood exploded from Ryan’s nose. Placing a work booted foot against his chest, Alaric toppled the man four inches his height, and pressed his weight down on Ryan’s rapidly rising and falling chest.
Alaric snarled, “If I ever catch wind of you even fifty miles from here, this will be a love tap. You say a damn word about her defending herself, and we’ll smear your good name through the mud. You’ll be ruined. We’ll sit back and roast marshmallows on the dumpster fire your career becomes. You understand me, city boy?”
“You can keep the whore.”
Alaric pressed down harder, and Ryan cried out.
“What was that?”
“I-I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. You won’t have any more problems from me. Just ... just let me go.”
“Bullies always show their true colors when they face someone their own size.” Removing his foot, he stepped back. “Go before I change my mind.”
Scrambling to his feet, he limped off.
Alaric turned to her, grasping her hands gently. “Are you all right?”
Throwing her arms around his neck, she pulled him close, trembling as the adrenaline left her. She sagged, trusting him to support her weight.
“Hey. I got you. I won’t let anyone hurt you. The minute the guys at the shop saw him walk down, they told me.” He moved toward the front door. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs.”
She tightened her hold. “Don’t leave me, please.”
“I won’t. Come on. We’ll lock up and hit the lights together. We can get the rest after you’ve calmed down.
“But—”
“Rosaleen ...” he began, his voice stern.
“Okay.” Tonight had shaken her badly. The man she once thought she would spend her life with had intended to do her bodily harm. She’d been minutes away from fighting for what might have been her life. Her world was on fire, and through it all Alaric remained her fortress.
ALARIC
Taking the keys from her trembling hands, he unlocked the front door and guided her inside. Glued to him, she kept their bodies in constant contact. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he guided her to the kitchen.
“How about a cup of chamomile?”
She nodded her head. Her demure persona scared him. Taking her arms, he held them out to study her more closely in the light. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Dark smudges in the shape of fingerprints had begun to form on her arm. He growled, and she flinched. “I’m sorry, sugar. I can’t stand the thought of him touching you.” She bowed her head. “Hey.” Gentling his tone, he placed two fingers under her chin and carefully lifted her head to meet his gaze. “You did nothing wrong. This is on him, okay? If you want to report him to the police, I’ll go to the station with you right now.”
“No.” She shook her head frantically. “I don’t want us to end up in legal trouble. He won’t be back. It wasn’t really emotion that drove him, just pride.”
“What a piece of work.”
Rosaleen shivered. “I feel filthy.”
“Then we’ll get you clean.” Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead. Her bathroom was her sanctuary from the world. It was evident in every colorful bath salt, bar, and bubble bath. Placed along the shelves with her hand-crafted lotion, it formed a wall of soothing comfort she could choose from with ease. Leading her to the bathroom, he eased her down onto the covered toilet lid. While the water ran, he opted to use lavender scents to help her calm down. Adding bubble bath, and salts to help with any lingering aches and pains, he knelt in front of her.
“Can I help you get undressed?” He waited patiently.
“Please.”
Worshipping her with gentle kisses on the skin he revealed, he willed her to feel his love. Love? Yeah, love. The understanding hit him like a fastball to the temples.
Turning off the faucet, he tested the temperature with his elbow.
She snickered. “I can tell you’ve been babysitting.”
Hearing her humor lessened the knot formed in his chest.
“I declare your bath fit for her royal highness.” Standing, he extended his hand. His heart swelled when she took it without hesitation and allowed him to help her into the tub.
“So, I’m royalty now?”
“You always were to me.” He helped her sink down into the frothy water. She sighed, and he knelt beside her, grabbing the washcloth. Dipping it into the water, he built up a lather. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” Lifting her arm, he soaped up her smooth skin.
“Hey, you already went above and beyond. Promise me you’ll never stop reminding me what a real man looks like.”
“I’ll do my best.” No words were spoken as he cleansed her with a tender hand. Comfort flowed between them as he silently tended her needs. When the water grew tepid, he sat back on his heels.
“Why don’t you towel off while I set out pajamas and make that cup of tea?”
“God, I left the blender on downstairs, the drawer still needs to be balanced, and the deposit dropped.”
“Once you’re settled, we’ll go down together, and I’ll take care of everything.” He smoothed her hair back from her hair.
“Alaric—”
“The last thing you need to do is count money right now.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” He rubbed her trembling bottom lip with his thumb. “Remember what I said about getting used to being cared for?”
She gave him a small smile. “Yeah.”
“I’ll get started on my part. You take as long as you want in here.”
He wrestled down the urge to stay when she skimmed her fingers over the darkening bruises. Don’t smother her. The last thing you need to do is come across as controlling right now. There was a thin line between control and care. Gathering her clothing, he tossed them into the hamper, removing the potential triggers.
In her bedroom, he laid out sleepwear and then moved to the kitchen. Grabbing her Sailor Moon mug, he brewed a kettle and made a honey-sweetened cup of tea. She walked out in her black cat pajamas and accepted the mug.
“Thank you.” They both knew it was for more than the drink.
“Any time. Why don’t you carry this down with you?”
“You want me to go like this?”
“Who’s going to see?”
Biting her lip, she considered it a moment before nodding.
Moving down the stairs, they entered the kitchen area first.
“My filling.” She turned to the bread wrapped up on a tray. “My roll,” she cried brokenly.
“You can remake it tomorrow.”
Huffing, she brought the mug to her lips.
“Don’t worry. I won’t steal your recipe.”
“You’d better not,” she scoffed, sounding more like herself.
“Do you want me to save this?” he asked, gesturing to the filling
“No, toss the filling. It’s beat to hell. The roll I’ll salvage to make a bread pudding.”
His mouth watered. “Any chance I’ll be sampling that?”
“Not until after the bake
off.”
He sighed. “I had to ask.”
Cleaning up, he moved to the front of the store where he removed the register, and they headed into the office. Seated at her desk, he found his mind returning to the incident. It took everything in him not to chase down the bastard and beat him to a bloody pulp. He’d folded like a cheap lawn chair the second he had to face another man. Even considering what Ryan might’ve done sent him into a blinding red rage.
He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. What the woman curled in the seat across from him right now needed was clam. Keeping her unaware of his anger, he counted the drawer and wrote up the deposit slip. The thought of anything happening to her made him sick to his stomach. She’d crept into his bloodstream and been carried throughout his veins. There was no walking away, and denying the depth of his feelings was a waste of time.
Finishing, he allowed her to sign the slip, and they placed everything into the safe and walked back to her apartment.
“All I want to do is curl up in bed next to you and try to shut down my brain.”
He squeezed her hip. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
Lying beside her in bed, he wrapped his body around her, holding her as she broke. The gut-wrenching sobs tore at his heart.
“I’m never going to let anyone hurt you, sugar.” Now wasn’t the time to admit his love. He wouldn’t allow that blond asshole’s memory to taint the first time he said those three words. Soon.
Chapter Nine
Rosaleen
Waking up in Alaric’s arms the morning after her incident with Ryan felt like coming home. The storm had passed, and though she continued to process the horrific situation, her trust in him never wavered. She would never forget the sight of him bursting through the front door like a true hero.
They kept the events of the night between themselves. She spent a tense couple of weeks anticipating blowback before she stopped looking over her shoulders and waiting for an assault charge. Calmed significantly, she threw herself into preparation of the bake off. They kept their baking competition life and couple life completely separate. The secret put a strain on their normally open relationship. Not being able to share everything with her best friend had dampened the situation slightly. She’d forgotten how much she truly enjoyed creating and experimenting with flavors.