Angel in Disguise

by Mitzi Pool Bridges

  Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

  Julie handed him an apron, watched him wrap it around his waist and head for the kitchen where he washed his hands. Good sign. Explored the kitchen. Opened cabinets, then the refrigerator where he pulled out a dozen eggs. Went to a cabinet and put a skillet on the stove. “First things first,” he said, then proceeded to fry up three eggs, threw two pieces of bread with butter on them into the skillet for toast. Leaning over the large work-island, he shoveled them in like a man who hadn’t had a decent meal in years, then looked up at her. “I was really hungry for eggs.”

  “Glad I could help.” She couldn’t help but smile. “Didn’t know breakfast was part of the package, but all right then, I’m game.”

  He washed the dishes, pulled out large bowls, gathered ingredients, and went to work.

  Despite his dark, disreputable looks, seeing him standing there did some surprising things to her insides. Damned if she couldn’t stand and watch her new employee all day. Not normal. Not for her.

  She grabbed the tray of cookies and turned back toward the counter just as the door opened and the second customer of the day walked in.

  The glass window her mom had insisted she put in so she could see the customers and say hello to those she knew had been a good idea. Now Julie could watch Gabe as well as he went about his work. She had to give him credit. He didn’t waste a minute or a motion. In no time he stuck several trays into the oven, set the timer, and began another batch of something or other she couldn’t wait to taste.

  She served up a muffin and coffee to two regulars, Calla one of the Coast Guard officers, and Greg Hanson, the park ranger. But Julie couldn’t keep her attention from straying to Gabe. What was he making in there?

  “New hire?” Greg asked.

  “Today. Name’s Gabe.”

  And so it went for the next hour. Every so often she’d hear a pot bang and look into the kitchen to catch Gabe working away. The way he moved, the way he looked—so sexy in an apron—was turning her on. Yep. She’d been focused on her business way to long.

  When she got a whiff of chocolate, she sent up a prayer of gratitude.

  Her gaze flew to her purse. She’d thrown it on the counter and it was in plain view. She stuck it under the counter so it would be out of the way. Did the new hire need cash enough to be tempted? And what about the cash register?

  If they worked together every day, she’d have to trust him.

  She just needed a little time to get to know him.

  At the first break of the morning, Gabe came out of the kitchen with a chocolate cupcake in hand. “For you.”

  She took it and examined it closely. It wasn’t just how good an item tasted, but also how it looked. It was a large cupcake made in her mom’s overlarge cupcake pan, piled high with chocolate icing, a small sprinkle of tiny chocolate chips on top.

  “You going to sniff it to death or taste it?”

  She gave him a sharp look. “Don’t get cocky on me.” She took a bite. Her eyes widened. She looked at the confection in her hand. “Are you kidding me?”

  “What? You don’t like it?”

  She took another bite, savored the texture of the cake against the smoothness of the pudding filling, which blended divinely with the sweet chocolate icing. Her taste buds genuflected. “What do you call this?”

  He shrugged. She almost gasped aloud at the breadth of those shoulders.

  “I don’t know, how about chocolate-on-chocolate?”

  “Not exotic enough, but it’ll do for now. How many did you make?”

  “Four dozen. Enough?”

  “I doubt it. Not when word spreads.”

  He chuckled and went back to the kitchen.

  “How about a cake?” she called after him.

  “You’re the boss.”

  More clatter followed.

  Julie inhaled the last bite of the cupcake before the next wave of customers hit. By then, the cupcakes were lined up in the case with an unwritten invitation on every one.

  By the time he brought in a scrumptious looking cake and set in on the counter, she was down to less than a dozen.

  The cake was beautiful. He’d used her mom’s ten-inch square pans and built an Italian cream cake in four layers. After one bite, she didn’t care where this man had come from. It was as if God had answered her prayers and dropped an angel in her lap.

  Customers filed in. Mostly locals. The grapevine was up and running.

  “Heard you have a new pastry chef. Hear his chocolate cupcakes are to die for.”

  Julie looked around as friends and customers filled the tables. A couple of hardy souls took their lattes outside to sit at the tables under the awning. The weather was getting cooler. But for now the sun kept it warm enough.

  At four o’clock on the dot, the door opened and her Mia ran in. “Something sure smells good in here, Mom.”

  “C’mere, you.” Julie bent down to hug her six-year-old. “How was your day?”

  Mia shrugged. “Good enough, I guess.” She looked through the window. Pointed. “Who is he?” she whispered.

  “Our saving grace.” She took her daughter’s hand. “C’mon. I’ll introduce you.”

  But Mia squirmed out of Julie’s hold and ran into the kitchen. “Hi. I’m Mia, who are you?”

  She pulled a bar stool up to the island and climbed onto it. “Name’s Gabe. What’s your job here?”

  Mia giggled. “Don’t have a job.”

  “Gotta have a job or you can’t be in the kitchen.”

  “Mom…” she called out.

  Julie was right behind her and couldn’t help but smile when she saw the mischief in Gabe’s dark eyes.

  “I guess we can call you the supervisor.”

  “See. I have a job. So tell me what you’re doing in the kitchen?”

  “If you’re the supervisor, you should know I was hired as the new pastry chef while you were out playing.”

  “Wasn’t playing. I was in school.”

  “Well, then. See what happens when you’re not on the job?”

  Mia turned to Julie, who tried to keep her face straight. “Did you really hire him?”

  “I did. Wait until you taste his confections.”

  Mia was off the stool and at the counter in seconds. “Did he make the chocolate cupcakes?”

  There were only two left. “He did. But you can’t have one until after dinner.”

  “Mom…how will I know if he’s good enough to keep?”

  “She has a point there, Ms. Julie,” Gabe agreed.

  “Call me Julie. And I can see I’m outnumbered. Okay. But I’m cutting it in half. The rest after dinner.”

  “Deal,” Mia said.

  After she tasted her half, Mia walked back into the kitchen. “You can stay.”

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice solemn.

  Julie choked back laughter before she sent her daughter to the table in the corner to practice her writing. She had to give it to him. The man’s actions were totally contradictory to his appearance.

  Which was exactly what almost every customer whispered when they saw him.

  By the time she was ready to close, there was only one slice of cake left and one cupcake.

  The door opened. Jeff Knox walked in. As usual, Julie got that weird twist in her stomach. Jeff was a good guy. He’d been her husband, James’ best friend. But every time she saw him, she saw the two men together, laughing, playing jokes, having fun. It still hurt. She knew she had to get over this, but after three years she hadn’t. Since the town was so small, and he loved her pastries, she saw him often.

  Forcing a smile, she welcomed him in. “How are you, Jeff?”

  “Good. Heard some folks raving about your new pastry chef, thought I’d get a sample.” He waved to Mia who waved back and kept writing.

  “You would,” she teased, turning to the case. “We’re almost out. There’s one chocolate-on-chocolate cupcake left and one slice of the Italian cream cak
e. Which will it be?”

  “Can I have both?”

  “Of course.” She was glad to be busy. Jeff was divorced. Once he’d asked her out. She’d been so stunned she could barely utter an I don’t think so. Thankfully, he hadn’t asked again.

  Gabe came out of the kitchen.

  “Gabe, this is Jeff Knox. A regular.”

  “One with a sweet tooth.” Jeff grinned.

  The men shook hands.

  “I’ve cleaned the kitchen, is there anything else?” Gabe asked.

  “Can you be here at four in the morning? I like to get an early start.”

  He nodded and started to leave.

  “I know you’re new in town; do you have a place to stay?”

  “Not really. I stayed at the Lobster Cove B&B last night, but I’ll have to find a cheaper place soon.”

  “Won’t be easy,” Julie said. “There are few rental houses here. There’s more in Bar Harbor, but you’ll want to be closer.”

  “Maybe I can help,” Jeff spoke up. “I have a small apartment I added to the back of the garage for my mom. She passed away six months ago. I was wondering how I could rent it out but figured not many people would want a place that small.”

  Julie stared in disbelief. Jeff was a private kind of guy. Except for James he hadn’t made a lot of friends. Now he was inviting a stranger to live in his vacant apartment? Clearly she wasn’t the only one in danger of losing her mind here.

  Gabe was a complete stranger. She wanted with everything in her for him to be an upstanding individual.

  But was he?

  Would a man without a spotty past want to be paid in cash?

  Jeff took her by the arm and led her out of hearing range. “Look, don’t get excited over this, but if the guy is going to work for you I intend to keep an eye on him. It will be easier if he’s where I can do it without his being suspicious.”

  Why Jeff thought she needed protection she didn’t know. But since James had been killed, he made it a point to check on her regularly. “Anyone who can bake like that can’t be all bad.”

  “You may be right. But I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you because I didn’t do my duty.”

  She’d never convince Jeff that she and Mia were not his responsibility—that being James’ best friend didn’t mean he had to protect them. But it would be a waste of time to remind him of that.

  Her glance went to Gabe.

  Tall, dark, and dangerous looking.

  Though he baked like an angel, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea if Jeff did keep an eye out. Jeff’s tiny apartment would be just right for Gabe.

  And would give him a reason to stay.

  Chapter Three

  Who was this guy? Was he for real? The only thing Gabe had been offered in the past year was not something you mentioned in polite company. He’d had his nose broken twice. Both times with a warning. You’d think he’d learn. He mentally struggled for a reason for the offer. Maybe the guy was hiding something. Clean-cut. Nice brown hair, eyes that didn’t suggest anything overt. His business suit looked a little tired, but he’d probably been in it all day. Maybe he was one of the rarest of rare creatures; a truly nice guy. Hadn’t seen any of those in a long time. Still, his choices were limited. He could just thank the guy, tell Julie and Mia it was nice to have met them and keep trucking.

  That was his best option. Get the hell out before the inmates got to him.

  He started to do just that.

  “You saved my life today, Gabe. I want to thank you.”

  Man alive! How did he deal with gratitude? “It was nothing. Look. I shouldn’t have led you to believe I’d be here for any length of time. I should move on.”

  The stark look on Julie’s face made his conscience prick. He hadn’t realized he still had one.

  “You’re not serious.”

  Her face was pale now, the sprinkle of freckles on her nose more visible. She was as cute as her daughter. “I really should leave.”

  “If your pay is a problem, we can discuss it.”

  Julie really was desperate. He could understand that—her livelihood was in jeopardy.

  “What the hell, I’ll give it a few more days.” He could leave any time. “Keep the sign in the window, though.”

  Julie’s smile gave his heart a little bump.

  Now that was a complication he really didn’t need.

  He nodded at Julie, their conversation over, and backpedaled over to talk to Mia. “Will I see you here tomorrow? You are the supervisor. I hope you’re here to check me out. You can’t be too careful with what you serve the customers, you know.”

  “I’ll be here every day.”

  “Good.” He turned back to Julie. “I should start earlier than four to fill the cases by six-thirty.”

  Her mouth twisted into a grimace. “You don’t need to come in that early.”

  “If you give me a key, I can let myself in.”

  Julie wasn’t too sure about that idea. Smart woman. He was a stranger, after all.

  “There has to be another solution,” Jeff put in.

  Gabe could read their minds; see the distrust in their eyes. Stranger. Key. Thief. He’d just have to get here at four and work like hell to get the pastries ready on time.

  “I understand. I’ll be here at four.”

  She reached behind the counter, grabbed a key. “Here. I’ll see you tomorrow. The signature pastry is mini-blueberry tarts. I make the crusts during spare time and keep them in the freezer. The blueberries are put in the freezer during the season. We have plenty. I serve them with a dollop of whipped cream. The customers love anything chocolate, so that has to be on the menu daily. We always have at least three kinds of cookies. In the mornings they like muffins. During festival times we make a sugar cookie in the shape of a lobster. It’s a big hit.”

  “Got it.”

  “You’re not taking notes.”

  So the woman had a little fire in her. Interesting. “Don’t worry. I won’t disappoint you. I’ll be here in the morning,” he promised.

  There was a you had better be in her eyes when they said goodnight.

  Gabe walked out with Jeff. “Tell me where you live.”

  Jeff looked around. “Are you on foot?”

  “Yep. I was just passing through when I went in for a cup of coffee this morning.”

  Jeff laughed. “And ended up as Julie’s pastry chef. Wonders never cease. My car is over here.”

  Though Gabe didn’t understand the trust these people seemed to have, he followed Jeff to his car. It felt strange after a year behind bars to have his freedom. To sit in a car going to what would be his apartment, instead of sitting on another bus heading anywhere was a relief. “I’ll need to pick up my bag at The Lobster Cove B&B. Why don’t you drop me off there, and I’ll walk to your place.”

  “No need. We pass right by it.”

  Where Gabe came from, by now this guy would be minus his billfold and his car. He’d be lucky to get through the night without a bullet in his head.

  What was it with this place? Had he really run into people who actually trusted one another? He felt as if he’d suddenly ended up on a different planet.

  After picking up Gabe’s duffel, they turned down Pine Street and drove until a row of houses came into view. Gabe gave the area a quick once-over. Middle income, neat, nothing fancy. Jeff pulled into the driveway of a small brick home that sat back from the street.

  “We’re here. I’ll put the car up and show you the apartment.”

  Jeff hit the automatic opener and the double-car garage door lifted. What a mess, Gabe thought. Didn’t the guy put anything away? There was stuff crammed in every space possible with barely enough room for the car to squeeze in.

  Jeff parked and Gabe got out. The first thing he spotted was a Harley sitting in the second space. He walked over, gave it a quick once-over. “Tires are flat.”

  “Probably needs new ones.”

  Gabe kicked a couple of b
oxes out of the way and walked around it. “How long since you’ve ridden it?”

  Jeff stood with his back against his car watching Gabe. “Three years or longer.”

  ‘Why not air up the tires and take a ride?”

  Jeff scrubbed his face with a hand. “Personal reasons.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.”

  “Aw, it’s nothing. My ex-wife loved the damned thing. We were on it every weekend either riding around for the fun of it or taking a picnic into the park and lazing the day away. After our divorce the fun went out of it.”

  “You haven’t ridden it in three years?”

  “Or longer.”

  “Is anything wrong with it besides the tires?”

  “Most likely. Other than needing two new tires, it won’t start.”

  “Know why?”

  “Not a clue. At this point it would probably cost more than it’s worth to fix it.”

  “Wanna sell it?”

  “You buying?”

  Gabe checked again, lifted the seat, and checked the motor. If he could fix this baby, he’d have a sweet pair of wheels. It got really cold in Maine. He’d need a ride to go to and from the shop for now. Later he’d head for a warmer climate. “I can use some wheels. It looks to be about ten years old.”

  “About.”

  “I’ll give you two fifty if you throw in the helmet.”

  “You serious?”

  “Sure. If I fix it up, I’ll have a cheap way to get to work.”

  “You’re offer isn’t bad, it’s just that I’m not sure I’m ready to sell it yet. How about if you fix it up at your expense, and I’ll let you ride it while you’re here?”

  Gabe’s head jerked up. “You don’t think I’ll be here very long, do you?”

  “Not from what I gathered. If it makes you feel better, you can add a little extra to the apartment rent for bike rental. Of course I’m not sure you’ll get it to run.”

  “I’ll get it on the road.” He hoped.

  “Try on the helmet. If it fits you can use it, too.” They shook hands. “Now, let’s take a look at your new digs.”

  The one room apartment had a bed and nightstand on one end, a small couch in the center, and a tiny kitchen on the other. A small TV was on a table opposite the couch. A bookshelf next to it still held a handful of paperbacks. It wasn’t the Ritz, but then it was three times larger than the cell he’d occupied.