Raspberry Kisses (The Bakery Romance Series Book 1)

by Cecelia Dowdy

  What about his profession? If Martin was attracted to her, too, and if they were to ever spend time together, romantically, would she ever be able to accept his profession? Such a deep struggle, it was kind of like playing a game of tug-of-war within herself.

  How could she be falling for a preacher, again? Hadn’t she learned her lesson the first time? Lord, I really don’t know what I’m going to say to Martin, but, please help me to find the right words. I like Martin, and I want to be with him, but, I feel so conflicted about it.

  Martin followed her into the office, his heavy footsteps plopping against the wooden floor. She dropped into a chair while Martin lifted Stan’s picture from the desk. He stared at the photo, his dark eyes intense.

  Did he want to know whom was in the photo? When she’d invited Martin into her office, she’d forgotten about him seeing Stan’s picture. The photo was of her late husband, standing in front of the church giving a sermon. She needed to appease his curiosity. “That’s my deceased husband, Stan.”

  “Your husband was white, and he was a pastor?”

  Did they really need to talk about this now?

  Chapter Fifteen

  That terrible frown had returned. Why did Rhea frown so much? Sometimes, it seemed like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. He leaned toward her, still holding the photo. What would happen if he took her into his arms and kissed her frown away?

  When he was with Rhea, he sometimes felt that she was attracted to him, too, but, he almost felt that there was an invisible wall between them. He wasn’t sure if she felt guilty because of Raven, or, if she were still grieving over her late husband. It had to be the feelings she still had for Stan that was causing her to hesitate. Rhea seemed so serious and determined, and she acted much older than twenty-five. He still found it hard to believe Rhea and Raven were sisters—their personalities were about as different as night and day.

  “Yes, my husband was white and he was a pastor,” she snapped, scratching the back of her neck. She grabbed her hair net, removing it from her head, throwing it onto the desk.

  What was the matter with her? She must still be in love with Stan for her to react so strongly.

  She blew air through her lips, and his gut clenched as arousal slammed through him. The thought of kissing her flooded in his mind. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea for them to stay in this back office. He gestured toward the front of the bakery. “Let’s go out front.”

  “Why?” She got comfortable in her chair, removing her shoes. He could understand why she’d want to stay back here, the front of the bakery didn’t have any blinds and anybody walking by could look into the bakery and see them, giving them little privacy.

  He needed to tell her. “I’m attracted to you and I want to kiss that frown off your face. I don’t think you want me to do that so maybe we should go out front.”

  Her eyes widened and her brown skin flushed while she stood. He followed her to the front of the bakery.

  She joined him at one of the tables, making herself comfortable. “I’m surprised you said that.”

  “You shouldn’t be. I feel like we’ve been skirting around the issue of our attraction.”

  She didn’t respond. She dropped her chin into her hand, giving him a pensive look. What was she thinking? “Why were you mad when I looked at your husband’s picture?”

  “Talking about my husband is…complicated.”

  “Why?”

  “She took a deep breath, sighing. “I loved my husband, but it was a difficult marriage. His family never accepted me. Remember I told you a little bit about the animosity between me and Stan’s sister, Mary?”

  Martin nodded.

  “Well, since Stan was ten years older than me, they thought I was too young for him, plus they didn’t like his marrying a black woman.”

  That sounded awful. “I’m sorry, Rhea.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I know, but if it means anything to you, I know how it feels not to be accepted.” He was having acceptance issues within his own congregation. “What happened to your husband?”

  She ran her index finger over the tabletop, as if gathering her thoughts.. She finally focused on him again and a sheen of tears gleamed in her pretty eyes before she blinked the moisture away. “Almost two years ago, he was shot. He was out delivering food baskets to the needy, and he got caught in the crossfire between two drug dealers.”

  “I’m sorry.” He scooted his chair a few inches toward her, before stopping. Rhea was obviously upset and vulnerable right now. He needed to keep his distance and listen to what she had to say. Maybe there was something that he could say to make her feel better. “That’s awful, Rhea.”

  She stared at the wall. Her mind seemed a million miles away. “Stan did too much.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He was gone, volunteering…a lot. Plus, the congregation was always having some problem or other. He counseled people. You’d be surprised the number of times I had to reschedule outings with my husband because he was ministering to his church. Plus, the congregation got on my nerves.”

  That was no surprise. As the assistant pastor of his church, he’d been called during a number of crises. Doing the Lord’s will, helping others, reaching out as a shepherd was a big part of his life. However, he’d never been married, and he had no living children. He’d been heeding his call, alone. What would his life be like if he’d been married, with a family, while leading a church? Would that have affected his marriage?

  Good thing Rhea was telling him about her experience with the church, her husband, and her husband’s family. Getting a peek into her innermost thoughts and feelings helped him to understand why she’d been skittish about their attraction. Frankly, he couldn’t blame her. He’d been skittish, too, and far as he knew, he’d continue advising her about her bakery for at least a month. What would happen during that time? Would his attraction to her deepen? He pressed his hands together, focusing on what she had to say.

  He cleared his throat. “How did they get on your nerves?”

  “I was so young when I married Stan. I was just out of college, I was black, and a lot of the white congregation members were smitten with Stan. Some had even dated him for a while. Then I step into the picture, and I’m not easily accepted by all of the members.” She looked directly at him. “It was hard.”

  “I can imagine.” And he really could. Being the leader of a flock proved difficult, and it could really take its toll on a pastor’s wife. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine Rhea fresh out of college, marrying a pastor who was ten years older than she. “Was the congregation mostly white?”

  Rhea shook her head. “No, it was a mixed congregation, but some of the women still seemed shocked at Stan’s choice of a wife.”

  Rhea, treated like she didn’t belong by her husband’s church? What a rough life. Did Stan defend her? Did he realize how some of his congregation treated his wife? If Rhea were to marry him, and he caught wind of her being treated like that, he’d be sure to make those people aware that they couldn’t treat his wife like that.

  It was wrong and ungodly.

  Wife! Had he really thought of Rhea as being his wife? Sad, broken, vulnerable, that’s how Rhea appeared. He recalled what she’d told him about her mom being in a cult, getting out, and now she’d revealed information about her marriage. She’d been through a lot, and now she was trying to get her bakery on track, but, was she still in love with Stan?

  He couldn’t ask her that. He glanced at her hand resting on the table. He wanted to take her hand, kiss each of her long fingers, and tell her everything would be okay.

  But, he couldn’t do that. Not right now while she spoke of her late husband.

  “That’s why our attraction bothers me. I’m not getting involved with another pastor.” She looked away, folding her arms in front of her chest. “I was hurt too badly the first time. I’m not doing that again.”

  “Your husband has
only been dead for two years. You might need more time to grieve.” Again, thoughts of the baby he’d lost haunted his mind. That happened about fifteen years ago and he could truly say he still was not over it. But, he’d acted insensitively, and part of his problem was guilt.

  Would Rhea continue to grieve for her spouse for years and years? He had a few people in his congregation who’d revealed they’d never remarry because nobody could measure up to their deceased husband or wife. Did Rhea feel the same way?

  “Even when I am ready to move on, I’m not getting involved with another pastor.” She bit her bottom lip, her eyes pensive. “Besides, I’d have to deal with my sister. You know she’s attracted to you, too.”

  “Don’t let Raven come between us.” He paused for a few seconds. “Have you heard from Raven lately?”

  Rhea raised her eyebrows. “No, why?”

  “Remember what happened the last time I tried to talk to her?”

  “Yes, I remember. It’s shameful the way she acts.” Rhea glanced down at the table. “I love Raven, and have been praying for her for years. She’s not happy, Martin, and that bothers me.”

  He’d been bothered by Raven’s unhappiness, too. He supposed she acted shameful. Perhaps her behavior was somehow linked to the cancer she had as a child. Maybe she’d been afraid of being alone. Perhaps her caustic attitude was a barrier she’d created to keep herself from getting hurt. It was hard to tell why she acted as she did, but, he sensed he needed to meet with her in person and clear the air. Maybe then she’d get the message and stop fantasizing about their non-existent romance. “Raven called me and told me she has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

  Rhea’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re taking her to the doctor?”

  “No. She gave me the address to the doctor’s office. There’s a coffee shop in that building and I’m meeting her there after her appointment.”

  “You’re driving her home after you meet?”

  “No, a friend is coming to get her.”

  “What will you say to her?”

  What would he say? Man, that was a tough question. What did you say to a woman who lied about the nature of your ‘relationship’? “I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.”

  Pushing thoughts of Raven aside, Martin got out of his chair and walked to the door. He stared into the dark night. The street lights illuminated the deserted street. A stray cat ran by, mewling.

  So, Rhea didn’t think their attraction was a good thing? Martin wasn’t sure if their attraction was good, either. Rhea was still clinging to the ghosts from her past, but wasn’t he doing the same thing? If he told Rhea about his past, she probably wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him.

  Before he left, he reached toward Rhea, dropping his arms, not touching her. Taking a few steps toward the door, he focused on her. There must be something that he could do...he needed to be sure that Raven understood that he did not have feelings for her. Mentally groaning, he waved, rushing to his vehicle. His attraction to Rhea was too strong to resist. If he’d stayed one minute longer, he would’ve pulled her into his arms and kissed her until she was breathless.

  She was probably puzzled by his hasty exit, but, he couldn’t help himself. He was finding it harder and harder to resist holding and touching Rhea. He got into his car, and spotted Rhea hurrying to her car several minutes later, carrying several boxes. He assumed the boxes contained the cookies and tarts they’d baked that evening. After Rhea was safely inside her vehicle, he started the ignition, pulled away from the curb.

  Goodness, he cared about Rhea, cared about her so much. The first thing he needed to do was talk to Raven. There was no way that he wanted Raven causing any trouble for Rhea if they were ever to form any kind of romantic relationship. As difficult as Raven appeared to be, he really needed to be patient and talk to her, make her see reason. Lord, I need your help when I meet with Raven.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rhea opened her eyes and peeked at the alarm clock. Five in the morning. Staying up late the previous evening with Martin, baking desserts, and now getting up early, she really needed more sleep. What was she going to do? She’d been up, off and on, all night, thinking about the time she’d spent with Martin, working in the kitchen.

  She couldn’t get him off of her mind. But, there was no way she could allow herself to act on these feelings. She couldn’t make a move on Martin since Raven claimed she was in love with him.

  Or could she? She sat up, her feet dropping to the floor, the blanket tumbling off the bed. How could she even consider doing that? Just thinking about all that she’d been through, being married to Stan, proved a cold reminder as to why she needed to steer clear of Martin. They had a business relationship – that was it.

  But, if that was it, then why did it feel as if her and Martin shared a much deeper connection? She pulled the blanket off of the floor, rested her head on the pillow. Maybe she could get a couple of hours sleep in before church. But, torrid thoughts rushed through her mind like tumbleweeds blowing in the wind. She finally got up, trudged to her kitchen, started a pot of coffee. She approached her windowsill herb garden, and sniffed. The rustic scents of cilantro, basil and oregano filled her nose, making her feel a bit better. She fingered her herbs and watered them.

  Once her coffee had been percolated, she poured a cup and sat at the kitchen table and read her devotional. After consuming two cups of coffee and some toast, she got herself ready for church. She placed the previous evening’s cookies and tarts onto two huge platters, covering them in plastic wrap.

  When she arrived at her morning Bible study at church, she spotted Dana, one of the study group members, brewing coffee in the back of the room. As soon as Dana saw the treats, her eyes widened. “Those look delicious! I don’t want to wait until after the Bible study to try those.”

  “Why don’t we try some now?” They usually ate a snack after Bible study, but, Rhea didn’t see why they couldn’t enjoy the sweets before the Bible study started. Knowing how anxious she’d been, she’d probably have a hard time concentrating on the Bible study. During the study, she’d be wondering if the group liked the desserts.

  Dana un-wrapped the platter and selected an apple tart. She bit into the treat, her red-painted lips curling into a smile. “Girl, these are delicious! That crust is so flaky that it melts in your mouth!” She gobbled the tart before selecting a cookie. “You’re going to make me break my diet.” She patted her ample hips, consuming the cookie in two bites.

  Wow, if everybody in the Bible study group enjoyed her desserts this much, then, maybe there was hope of revamping her bakery after all. Maybe her sales would skyrocket and she would no longer be in the red.

  Several of the Bible study members entered the room, spotting the tray of treats. In minutes, the 10-person group had consumed an entire tray of treats. Dana had to start another pot of coffee.

  One person in her study group arrived a bit late, seeing the others eating the desserts. “Those look good.”

  “Have some.” Rhea gestured toward the platter.

  She shook her head. “I can’t. I’m diabetic. Have you ever thought about making some sugar-free desserts?”

  Rhea nodded. She’d tried a few recipes using artificial sweetener, but, she did not think the flavor was as vivid as it should be. Maybe Martin could help her enhance her sugar-free recipe. “I’m still experimenting on a recipe.”

  “Well, as soon as you’ve perfected that recipe, I’ll be your guinea pig,” she said with a smile.

  The group leader arrived, and it was time to start the study.

  Since Martin’s desserts were a big hit, then maybe she should listen to him about his other suggestions. Could she really turn her tiny bakery into a café, serving desserts and sandwiches? The thought twirled through her mind during the entire Bible study, but she still could not get used to the idea.

  *

  Martin pushed the door open to the cabin-style, rustic coffee shop. Patrons lined
up at the counter, placing their orders. Young people, some he assumed were college students, occupied the rough, wooden tables, typing on laptops. Some had earphones in their ears, swaying to the rhythm of their music while they downed cups of coffee.

  He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. Would Raven ask him about his feelings for Rhea? Did she somehow know how he felt? How would he get through this meeting if she asked him about that?

  He scanned the small place. Where was Raven? Maybe her doctor’s appointment was running a little late. The door to the ladies room screeched open and Raven hobbled out, using a pair of wooden crutches.

  She glanced up and saw him. Dark circles were under her eyes. Why did she look so tired? Hadn’t she been sleeping well? She seemed thinner, more fragile. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she resembled Rhea so much that his heart tugged.

  Her cheeks appeared sunken and she wore a loose-fitting T-shirt and shorts. Her leg was in a brace. She grimaced.

  Taking his time, he approached her. “What’s the matter?”

  “My ribs hurt and I need to take my pain medicine. I’d forgotten about our meeting. I finally remembered when my friend reminded me when she dropped me off at the doctor’s office.”

  “Really?” She’d forgotten about their meeting? That was weird. She’d been so pressed, calling him, wanting to speak with him, that he’d assumed she’d been looking forward to seeing him. Maybe she’d been feeling sick, and that’s why the meeting was no longer a priority for her.

  Maybe her forgetting their meeting proved that she no longer had feelings for him! Could that possibly be? What a relief if she finally understood that they’d never had a romantic relationship. Inwardly, he cheered, relief flowing through him like warm honey. Maybe they would not be talking about his feelings for Rhea after all!

  She patiently stood with her crutches, grimacing.

  “I’m sorry.” He’d been so preoccupied that he’d forgotten his manners. “Come on, let’s sit.” He chose the table closest to the bathroom so that she wouldn’t have far to walk. He pulled out her chair and she plopped into it, her mouth set in a tense line. He took her crutches, leaned them against the wall.