Gabe walked over, picked up several of the books. All romance. Most were by an author named Scarlette LaFlamme.
“I don’t think you’ll like my mom’s taste in books.”
Gabe held out one of them. “Funny name. She famous?”
Jeff shrugged. “If you like romance, I guess. Supposedly she lives here in Lobster Cove. If the rumors are true, no one knows who she is.”
“So you have a mystery going on right here in town?”
“You got it.” Jeff went out the door. “Since this is your first night here, why don’t you get settled and come over for spaghetti? It’s about the only thing I can cook.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
Jeff waved an arm in the air. “What’s to impose? It’s spaghetti.”
Gabe couldn’t stop the chuckle. The guy was getting to him with his goody-two-shoes personality.
“I’ll see you in about thirty minutes. I’ll bring the money for the apartment then, if that’s all right.”
“That’ll work.”
Gabe watched him leave. He wondered about the guy. He had a nice open face that held no secrets. He wasn’t bad in the looks department, but he was way too trusting. Or was it a ruse?
If so, he was damned good at it.
Making sure his gun went with him into the bathroom, he took a quick shower. Despite the down-home niceness of the town and the few inhabitants he’d met, he couldn’t afford to let his guard down.
Thirty minutes later, he knocked on Jeff’s back door.
Jeff held the door open. “Make yourself at home.”
“Can I help?”
“Sure. Haven’t made the salad. Do your thing.”
Gabe chuckled. In minutes, he had a colorful salad in two bowls, ready and waiting. “Next?”
“That’s it. It’s a simple meal. I’m not into fancy.”
“Same here. Solid food is one thing though, sweets another.”
They sat at the small table in the kitchen and dove in. “Good,” Gabe said. Better than what he’d eaten before he went on the road and since. He tore off a piece of French bread, chewed. “Where did you get the bread?”
“Grocers. They make it fresh.”
“I make better.”
Jeff looked at Gabe with interest. “You’re a strange man. If I saw you in a crowd, I’d never take you for a pastry chef.” He leaned over the table. “If you can do better than this, you should go for it. Julie’s place will be swamped with customers.”
“You think?”
“I do. So, how about it, wanna tell me your story?”
“Not right now. How about you? What do you do?”
Jeff grinned. “Bank. I’m one of the loan officers. Three years ago I lived in Bangor, worked at the Bangor Bank and Trust. I saw an ad online about an opening here. When I interviewed they made me an offer. I was newly divorced and wanted to get out of the same town as my ex. Moving here was perfect.”
“Did your mom come with you?”
Jeff gave Gabe a you-have-to-be-kidding look. “Nah. Wouldn’t budge. Two years later, she found she had cancer. It wasn’t long until she needed help. That’s when I added the apartment. I wanted her in the house with me, but she wouldn’t have it, told me she didn’t want to interfere in my life. Zoning laws kept it small, but she was happy with it. No steps, for one.”
Gabe saw Jeff’s eyes cloud. He wasn’t over his mother’s death. “I’m sorry. Losing a parent can be traumatic.”
“It was.” Jeff stood. “I’ve eaten the chocolate cupcake. Best I ever had. All I have for dessert is that slice of cake you baked, but I’m not offering.”
Gabe smiled. How long had it been since he’d actually had something to smile about?
Standing, Gabe reached into his pocket, pulled out some bills for the rent. “I have to get up early, so I’m calling it a night.”
“What does Gabe stand for? What’s your real name?”
Gabe didn’t like the question and wondered at it. It wasn’t as if he were applying for a loan.
What the hell? For the duration he was stuck with a name that still didn’t sound like his.
Jeff waited expectantly. “Gabriel Michael Vaughn,” Gabe told him.
“Welcome to Lobster Cove, Gabriel Michael Vaughn.”
Gabe waved at Jeff as he walked out the door. “Thanks for everything.”
“Don’t be too fast with the thank yous. You might want to curse me before you get that bike to run.”
When Gabe went to his small room and shut the door, he was still wondering about the people in Lobster Cove. Were they all like Julie and Jeff?
If so, it was an extraordinary town.
It had been a long time since Gabe had spent the day whipping up confections in Mom and Dad’s bakery and was amazed at how fast everything came back to him—the ingredients—the recipes. He was worn out and had absolutely no trouble falling asleep.
Chapter Four
Julie didn’t remember ever being so nervous. She’d hired a complete stranger; one whose very appearance made you look twice. He had a tough, no-nonsense facial expression that made you wonder just what kind of man he was. And she’d given him the keys to the front door of her business.
She broke out in a sweat.
Had she gone completely mad? Had the fact that she had been looking for a pastry chef for the last two months and hadn’t gotten a single applicant make her jump at the first person that walked through the door?
If she walked in tomorrow morning and found the place ransacked, could she survive financially?
He’d had Mia giggling and engaged. Would a man bent on mischief bother?
Possibly. She’d made a big mistake and wanted that key back. Could she go to Jeff’s and ask for it?
And embarrass herself?
As if reading her mind, Mia said, “I like, Gabe, Mom.”
“Good.”
“He bakes really well.”
“He does.”
“What do you think he’ll make tomorrow?”
Julie wished she knew. Wished she knew if he’d even show up. Wished she hadn’t given him the keys. “I think he’ll surprise us.”
She pulled into the drive and parked in the garage. “Let’s see what Gram has for dinner.”
When they walked into the kitchen, there was nothing simmering on the stove, no wonderful aromas filtering from the oven. And no Mom.
“Where’s Gram?”
“Put up your things. I’m sure she’s in her room.”
Worry made Julie hurry through the house and straight to her mom’s room. The room was dark, the lights out. “There you are. Are you all right?”
Her mom sat up, turned on the table lamp. “What time is it?” She looked at the clock. “I didn’t know it was so late. I haven’t started dinner.”
Julie walked over and sat on the side of the bed. “How do you feel, Mom? Tell me the truth.”
“Not good. I’m taking the meds, but they don’t seem to work as they should.”
“Rest. I’ll whip up something for dinner and bring it to you.”
“You’ll do no such thing.” She started out of bed. “You’ve worked all day, the least I can do is fix a meal.”
Julie gently pushed her mom back in bed. “Not today. Really.”
“Where’s my baby girl?”
Julie laughed. “She’ll be here any second with a story to tell.”
“I can’t wait.”
Julie headed out of the room, but not before she saw the pain written on her mom’s face. Something had to be done. She couldn’t suffer like this the rest of her life.
She heard Mia jabbering away in Mom’s room. Julie chuckled. Mom would get an earful. Opening the fridge, she saw some chicken breasts swimming in a vinaigrette marinade. That would work.
Forty minutes later she put a plate of oven grilled chicken breasts, potatoes tossed with olive oil and basil, and a salad on a tray and took it to her mom’s room.
“That didn’t
take long.”
“I cut up the chicken so you wouldn’t have to. Mia, there’s a glass of tea on the table, why don’t you bring it to Gram?”
Mia ran off to do as she was told.
“What did she tell you?” Julie asked.
“Who is this stranger Mia says makes the best chocolate cupcake she’s ever eaten? I think she just insulted me.”
Julie chuckled but was pleased to see her mom eating. “The man just walked in off the streets. It’s as if God answered my prayers, because honestly, his confections melt in your mouth.”
“Can you trust him? Did he give references?”
Ouch. Her mom had just put her finger on Julie’s problem. Could she trust Gabe Vaughn? “I was too desperate to get to that.”
“Be careful, Julie. You are desperate, which makes you vulnerable, so take care.”
Mia brought in a glass of tea and carefully handed it over. “Can I eat now? I can’t wait to eat the rest of my cupcake.”
Julie rolled her eyes at her mom and followed Mia out the door.
By the time she’d cleaned the kitchen and put Mia to bed, Julie was ready for bed herself. For a fleeting moment, she wondered how Gabe and Jeff were getting along. Or was he still in Lobster Cove? He could already be back on the road.
After making sure her mom had taken her last pill of the day, she took a shower and collapsed into bed.
She was too tired to worry about anything. Mom and her arthritis—Gabe and whether she could trust him or not—whether he would stay, or if she could stay open without him—worry over her finances.
They left her mind the minute she shut her eyes. Tomorrow was soon enough to worry. And she planned on being there before Gabe.
When she hit the floor at two-thirty the next morning, those worries hurtled back in full force. The major one being what she’d find when she walked into her shop.
A shop she and her mother had built after James was killed in Afghanistan. Though Julie had lived in Lobster Cove all her life, she’d had to move out of the house she and James had bought. Too many memories and too big a mortgage. So she’d moved into her mom’s small house until James returned from the war. Only he hadn’t. She’d had to rebuild her life and start over.
She’d always wanted to have her own business, be her own boss. Her mom had always wanted a bakery where she could bake to her heart’s content. They made a good pair. Julie liked to bake, just wasn’t as good as her mom and never would be. She accepted her inadequacies and made up for it by being good on the business end.
Until her mom’s arthritis had gotten so bad, it had worked out wonderfully well. During the tourist season, they couldn’t keep enough sweets in the case. When the season ended, the locals continued to keep them busy enough.
They had never thought ahead to the time when her mom wouldn’t be able to do the baking. It had taken Julie by surprise. It stunned her to think she might have to close if she couldn’t find a pastry chef who lived up to the bar her mom had set.
She hurried out the door. Mom would get Mia on the school bus. This was the start of school, and Mia was just getting used to it. If Mom didn’t get better, Julie would have to bring Mia to the shop every day. Since Julie came in so early, she didn’t know how that would work out.
More problems.
She punched the accelerator, wanting to get to work as soon as possible.
Would Gabe be there working in the kitchen?
Or had he disappeared as quickly as he’d shown up? Would the place she was so proud of be cleaned out?
The speedometer climbed higher.
Chapter Five
By the time Julie parked her car, nerves had turned her stomach into knots. It was five minutes before three o’clock. What would she find?
She unlocked the back door. Though the shop lights were off, the kitchen was ablaze with light and the delightful scent of chocolate, sugar, and sweet blueberries.
Relief swept through her in a wave of pure gratitude.
Gabe stood at the island mixing up something, humming to himself. Her breath froze in her lungs. Awareness swept through her. She swallowed hard. She didn’t want to be this aware of any man. Certainly not one she knew nothing about—one who could have a checkered past, and one who could leave at a moment’s notice.
He looked up, smiled. Awareness spread.
This wasn’t normal. Not for her. She’d loved James with a passion, grieved so for his loss she didn’t know if she’d ever recover. Still didn’t. But this stranger had awakened something in her she hadn’t expected. It was so totally unlike her that for a minute she couldn’t think. When she did, she realized that a man had never cooked in her kitchen. It was an anomaly. One she could get used to. If he stayed long enough.
“Good morning,” she said. “When did you get here? It’s barely three.” She’d expected to be here before him. She flipped on the rest of the lights.
“Wanted to make an impression on the boss, so I got here earlier than I planned.”
“What are you baking?”
“Check the case.”
She wrapped a clean apron around her waist and did just that. The mini-blueberry tarts were lined up alongside two rows of cupcakes. “Oh!” Reaching inside, she brought out a chocolate cupcake, this one different from yesterday, then pulled the other one out as well. Cookies—one kind, but the oven was still going.
“What do you call these?” she held them up so he could see.
“The chocolate is a double chocolate cupcake topped with a mocha butter cream frosting. The other is a carrot cupcake with orange frosting. Hope you like them.”
She gave them the eye test first. Both looked scrumptious. Instead of taking a bite, she grabbed a knife and cut off a slice of each.
One bite and she sank onto the stool behind the register and let her acute sense of taste tell her she’d never tasted anything so good. She sliced another sliver off of each and took another bite. They couldn’t be as good as she thought. But they were. Her taste buds went into shocked and pleased approval.
When she got her legs back, she went to the kitchen where Gabe had just brought out three layers of chocolate cake and put them on the rack to cool.
“You’re extraordinarily good at this. Where did you learn?”
“Parents.”
Gabe wasn’t very talkative, but she was curious. “How did that come about? Not many men pick up an apron and help in the kitchen.”
“They owned a bakery.”
“So why aren’t you working for them?”
He looked up at her, his dark eyes holding a trace of sadness. She knew the look well. “I’m sorry,” she started to say.
“It’s all right. It was a long time ago.”
She couldn’t seem to stop the questions, but she wanted to know more about this man who dropped from heaven right into her lap. “What happened?”
Gabe had to swallow twice before he answered. She was sorry now she’d brought up the subject since it was obviously still hurtful.
“They were killed. Shot.”
He wasn’t elaborating on the story, and she wouldn’t push. “I’m so sorry, Gabe. I shouldn’t have brought up such sad memories.”
“There were good ones, too. Being here, baking like this, reminds me of those times.”
“I’m glad. Now. What can I do to help? The case is almost full, but I can see you’re not finished.”
“You can make a list of the items I need. I don’t know where you get your supplies, but you’re running low on some things.” He paused. “Have you ever thought of having a few sugar-free items on the menu?”
“Mom and I discussed it, but we stayed so busy we never got around to doing anything about it.”
“Do you mind if I do?”
“Not at all. But you have to sleep. What time did you get here anyway?” He had to have been here early to have so much in the case.
“Around two, I think.”
“For goodness sakes, leave early. We shoul
d know by noon if we have enough in the case. Take off then.”
“Let’s play it by ear, okay? I don’t want you to run out of anything. I have another idea if you want to hear it.”
“So far, your ideas have been good ones.” But she’d watch him closely. She couldn’t have a pastry chef who thought his way was best. She’d been at this for three years now, and she knew her customers. He didn’t. “What is it?”
“What do you think of having a blackboard listing the day’s choices? Along with the blueberry tarts, I thought maybe have two or three different cupcakes on different days, the same with cookies and cakes. That way you have a variety, and, except for the tarts, every day is different. What do you think?”
Good idea. “I think the customers will love it.” She chuckled. “Of course, you’re going to have to listen to a few complaints when a customer comes in for one specific item and has to settle for another.”
“They might not be disappointed once they stretch their taste buds.”
“You’re right. I think I have a blackboard in the back, I’ll get right on it. First, tell me what the name of the chocolate cake is so I can list it?”
“It’s a German chocolate cake, baked my way.”
“I’ll call it Gabe’s German Chocolate Cake.”
The look he gave her was priceless. Shock. Amusement.
After setting the coffee machines to do their job at six a.m., she went in search of the blackboard. Gabe was as versatile as he was mysterious. Julie wondered how many more stories he had hidden in that head of his. As many as he had recipes?
****
Gabe watched her go. She was a lovely lady. He liked the way her red hair couldn’t seem to stay under control. Wisps of curls stuck out in spots making her look like a little girl. Not like Mia, though. Julie’s daughter had light brown hair with red highlights and though her eyes were green, they had a trace of blue in them. Mia was not only a pretty little thing, she was precocious as hell. And he liked her. He didn’t know how that happened, as he’d never interacted with a kid before. But this particular kid fascinated him with her inquisitive mind, her zest for life. Over time, maybe he’d get back some enjoyment in his own life as well. But not here. He dared not risk it.
Angel in Disguise Page 3