Angel in Disguise

by Mitzi Pool Bridges

  Gabe liked the way she made the customers feel comfortable and at home. Not like Helen at the grocer’s.

  After a short conversation with a petite young woman Julie had told him was named Willa had left, she went back to the kid. “Made up your mind?”

  “Two chocolate cupcakes, three chocolate cookies, three chocolate chip ones.”

  “On a chocolate binge today, I see.”

  “Love the stuff. Can’t get enough.”

  She gave him his order, poured a cup of coffee and the kid went over to a table. It didn’t take him long to devour everything.

  On his way out, he stuck his head in the kitchen. “Damned good job. Keep it up.” He gave Gabe a thumbs-up before he went out the door.

  With a lull in customers, Gabe came out of the kitchen. “Who’s the kid? And why does he wear sunglasses all the time?”

  “Can’t answer about the sunglasses, but his name is Chad Stiner. He’s on college break.”

  “Sure likes sweets.”

  Julie chuckled. “He’s in here every day. Sometimes twice.”

  “Does he have a job? Other than school, I mean.”

  “Not that I know of. His family doesn’t have a lot of money, but he manages to always have cash for his sweet tooth.”

  “Humph!” Gabe grumbled and headed back to the kitchen. “Kids need jobs. Keeps them out of trouble.”

  “Speaking of which, Mia has the notion she’s going to help you bake every day. How are you going to manage that? She’ll get in your way, make a mess, or both.”

  “By the time Mia gets here, I’m mostly done for the day. Don’t worry about us, we’ll handle it.”

  Julie whirled around and left the kitchen. Clearly, she wasn’t happy about Mia doing kitchen duty. Was it because Julie didn’t trust him, or because she really didn’t want the child to get in his way?

  Neither excuse worked for him. He enjoyed the kid.

  Hell, if she were to take over the family business some day, she had to learn to bake, didn’t she?

  He hoped he was here long enough to instill a love for baking that would last a lifetime.

  Dream on, Gabriel Michael Vaughn. Dream on.

  Chapter Nine

  Three days later, Julie had a dozen caricatures on the wall. The regulars enjoyed the drawings so much, they were asking that theirs be added. Gabe was getting a kick out of it, and since it took only minutes to do, he was more than happy to oblige.

  Then Julie got the call Gabe was waiting for. “Message for you from Lou Davis at Jay’s Automotive. Said to tell you your package is here and he’ll be open until five.”

  Gabe was anxious to see if the bike would run with a new battery. If so, he had a pair of damned cheap wheels. And no paper trail for anyone to follow.

  A battery was heavy. Could he carry it the two miles to the house? Sure he could. But did he want to? Tomorrow was Sunday. He’d be able to spend the day on it if he could get it running tonight.

  He hated to ask a favor, but he had little choice. “Julie,” he asked, coming up behind her.

  She jumped. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were there. What is it?”

  “You’re closing at five today, right?”

  “Unless we run out of goodies sooner. The cupcakes are almost gone. The cake left the premises by noon. There are only a few cookies left. Why?”

  “I need a favor. I ordered a battery for the bike, which is what Davis called about, but he closes at five. Would you mind if I borrowed your car around four to pick it up? I’ll come back and help you close and clean up.”

  “You’re determined to get that old thing running again, aren’t you?”

  “Promised you a ride, didn’t I?”

  She glowered. “Won’t happen.”

  “We’ll see.”

  When Julie agreed to his plan, he went back to the kitchen.

  He couldn’t believe it, but he missed Mia, missed her endless stream of questions, her sweet smile, and that tone she got when she wanted her way.

  He glanced over at the free cookies for the kids sign Julie had put up. Under it she had added, Baked by Mia. The plastic covered tray was empty. Every day when Mia got off school, Gabe helped her make another batch of cookies. They tasted great, but didn’t exactly look so. Their shape was inconsistent—one larger than another, some crumbled at the edges. They weren’t anything he’d allow in the case to sell, but the kids who came in with their moms loved them. Not only because they were free, but also because Mia had made them.

  One of the parents had asked for an empty coffee cup and put in some change. “For Mia,” she’d said. Julie left the cup next to the cookies and not all, but most of the customers left a bit of change.

  Of course, Mia was delighted. Not only was the six-year-old a pastry chef in the making, she delighted in counting the pennies and nickels every day. Gabe had taken an old empty glass peanut butter jar, cut a slit in the lid, and Mia had her own personal piggy bank.

  It was close to four when a guy walked in Gabe hadn’t seen before. He was in his mid-twenties and had a scowl on his face as if he wanted to be anywhere but here.

  He was too young to be sent by Mad Jerry, but Gabe watched closely just the same. His gun was in its holster at his ankle every day. The protection, so close at hand, was comforting. Julie would have a fit if she knew.

  The guy stalked up to the counter. “Grandma wants a tart and some cookies. Says she hasn’t had anything sweet in months.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Paul,” Julie commiserated. “Tell me what kind and how many cookies.”

  “A dozen—six of each kind.”

  “There’s not many left, I’ll throw a few extras in at no charge.”

  He grunted.

  No thank you. No nothing. Ungrateful little prick. Julie was too good to her customers.

  Gabe took a final swipe at the counter, added more flour to his starter, and headed out of the kitchen just as the door closed behind the jerk.

  “Who was he? Whoever he is, he doesn’t have any manners.”

  “His name is Paul Nelson. He came to live with his grandmother a year ago, right after she had a stroke.”

  “I’d hate to think that guy was taking care of me. He doesn’t seem the type.”

  “No, he doesn’t. But Jane’s friends check on her. She’s mobile and can mostly take care of herself. Thank goodness.”

  “Does he work?”

  “Nope. But he always pulls out a roll of bills when he pays.”

  “Did you ever wonder how he manages that?”

  “Of course I wonder. But it’s his business isn’t it?”

  “Don’t get huffy. I was just asking.”

  “All right, then, get your battery. You wouldn’t want them to close on you.”

  She was ticked. Time to get back on her good side. “I’ll buy the last cookies. Did you sell the last tart?”

  “Don’t you get enough to eat here? And yes, Paul took the last tart.”

  “Not for me. Thought Lou Davis might like them. He did me a big favor with the battery.” He didn’t mention the helmet.

  Julie pulled out the last half-dozen cookies, put them in a bag and handed them over. “If you try to pay, I’ll hit you.”

  He chuckled.

  She smiled and handed him the keys to her car, and he motored out the back door. When he got behind the wheel, he took a deep breath. How long had it been since he’d actually been behind the wheel? Too damned long.

  After a year long stint in the pen, he was more than glad to taste the freedom.

  When he handed over the bag of cookies to Lou Davis, his tired eyes lit up. “Heard your stuff was good. Now I get to find out for myself.”

  When Gabe left, his purchases safely in the trunk, Davis was sitting back in a chair, a cookie in one hand, and a Styrofoam cup of coffee in another. For the first time, he looked a happy man.

  When Gabe got back to the shop, Mia was sitting in a chair at a table. She got up and ran to him. “
Where were you?”

  “I had an errand.”

  “We’re supposed to bake cookies.”

  “Not every day, princess. Some days we simply can’t.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. Pouted. “I’m the supervisor. I want to bake cookies.”

  He looked over at Julie who gave him a you started this look and went back to her work.

  “Tomorrow should be okay. I’ll think of something good.”

  “We need to bake every day. The customers like my sweets.” She settled down to do her work at the table.

  He’d really started something. It troubled him how disappointed she would be when he left. Because as sure as he was standing here, he would leave. And a pouting child and her pretty mother wouldn’t stop him.

  It didn’t take long to clean up the shop. “Did you place the order I gave you?”

  “I did. Helen said it should be here Monday.”

  “Helen? The woman at The Lobster Cove Grocery Mart?”

  “The same. Have you met her?”

  “She doesn’t seem the cheerful type. Does she manage the place?”

  “Owns it. Her husband Joe owned it and when he died of cancer a year or so back, Helen took over. She’s not as cranky as she seems, you know. I really like her.”

  “She must be one of those people who grows on you then.” He paused a minute. “Jeff told me about the town’s ongoing mystery. Helen must be the author?”

  “Are you talking about Scarlett?” Julie laughed. “I can’t think of a worse misfit. You’re way off base.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Helen lives vicariously through her books. There she can be the opposite of who she really is.”

  Julie shook her head and laughed again. “No way, Gabe. Try again.” She picked up the bank bag and headed for the back door. “We’ve had a good week, thanks to you.” She opened the bag, pulled out an envelope. “Here’s your pay. You might want to open an account later.”

  Gabe wouldn’t be opening an account. He’d deal in cash. Spend what he had to, and squirrel away the rest. Only the Good Lord knew when he’d have to pick up and haul ass out of here.

  He looked over at Julie. Even after a long day, she was still beautiful. He could sit here and look at her for hours. He glanced at Mia, happily tripping alongside them.

  So sweet, so sane, so normal.

  He blinked. Turned away.

  Normal would never happen for him.

  Regret whipped through him in unforgiving waves.

  Chapter Ten

  It didn’t take long for Gabe to install the battery, adjust the carburetor, and check the tires. Everything looked right on. He wasn’t an expert mechanic but had learned plenty in the pen. He’d been assigned as a cook in the kitchen, a dishwasher, a mechanic in the garage. You name it—he’d done it.

  Now it was time to find out if he’d learned enough to get this baby going.

  His spirits high, he straddled the bike, gave it a hard punch to start. Nothing. He tried again and there was a slight rumble. “C’mon, baby. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Taking a deep breath, he stomped on the starter again. Maybe this had been a waste of time and money.

  There was a loud potato-potato-potato rumble off the Harley that made him smile. He patted the bike. “Sweet.”

  He grabbed the helmet, opened the garage door. With a twist of his hand, the bike roared even louder as he swung out and into the street.

  Gabe wanted to shout.

  The ride was exhilarating. He turned left at the corner and made the block.

  As he slowed to turn into Jeff’s driveway, he saw Jeff’s car coming down the street. Instead of turning in, Gabe whipped back into the street and hurtled toward it.

  When he was a few feet away, he pumped his arm in the air. Once. Twice. Before he could make it a third time, he’d passed car and driver.

  Circling back to the house, he met Jeff in the driveway.

  “Son-of-a-bitch, you did it.”

  “Wanna ride?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  “You sure? You’re in your banker duds.”

  “I’m sure, but I need a helmet.”

  “Check the workbench.”

  “Why an extra one?”

  Gabe laughed. “Julie. She didn’t think I’d get it to run either.”

  “That I’d like to see.”

  Jeff put on the helmet. “Not a good fit, but it’ll do.”

  He climbed on in back of Gabe. In seconds they were roaring down the street, both men shouting from the sheer joy of having the wind in their face and a powerful machine between their thighs. One that did their bidding with little effort.

  After fifteen-minutes, Gabe pulled to a stop in the Grocery Mart’s parking lot.

  “Why stop?” Jeff asked.

  “Checking the tires. Don’t want a flat going fifty.”

  “How do they look?”

  “Good. I’ll check the pressure when we get back to the house.”

  But they were in no hurry to get back. It was an hour later before Gabe pulled into Jeff’s driveway.

  “I’ll open the garage,” Jeff said and hopped off.

  When the car and the Harley were safely inside, the garage doors down, Gabe picked up the pressure gage and checked the tires.

  “Well?” Jeff asked.

  “Good.” He stood, looked over at Jeff, who, against his better judgment, was becoming more and more a friend, and grinned. “She’s better than I thought. Ready to sell?”

  “Not yet,” Jeff said with a trace of regret in his voice. “I forgot how the speed, the air whipping at you, and the power of the machine beneath your butt made you feel.”

  “Too bad,” Gabe laughed. “But if you change your mind, she’s promised to me.”

  “Deal.” Jeff turned to go to the house.

  “Hey, I’ve got a couple of steaks, if you have a grill, we’re in business.”

  Jeff perked up. “What else do we need?”

  “I’ve got it tonight. I owe you for the gas, remember?”

  “And for the bike?”

  “Right!”

  The two men laughed, slapped each other on the shoulder, and went their separate ways to prepare for the meal.

  When was the last time Gabe had had a male friend? In the pen he’d had to stay aloof at all times or risk getting killed. Being here was far removed from that. Still, it wouldn’t be wise to let his guard down.

  Two hours later, Gabe sat back and rubbed his stomach. “Best meal I’ve had in I can’t tell you when.” Not since over a year ago when he went to the pen. But hey, who was counting?

  “Same here. I don’t cook a lot.”

  “Don’t go out a lot either. Don’t you like women?”

  “I’m not gay, if that’s what you’re asking. I like women just fine.”

  “Don’t mean to pry.”

  “Didn’t take it that way.” Jeff sighed. “I’ve been divorced a little over three years, but no matter what I do, I can’t get over my ex, Amy.” He put his head in his hands. “I was crazy about her. She was everything to me. I still worry about her.”

  “Why worry? She’s a big girl, and she was apparently the one who asked for the divorce.”

  Jeff shrugged. It was obvious he wasn’t going to go there.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, why the divorce?”

  Jeff lifted his head. “Maybe we married too young. She wanted her freedom. I loved her enough to give it to her. I’ve regretted it ever since.”

  “Have you tried dating other women?”

  Jeff chuckled wryly. “Of course. The thing of it is, I compare them all to Amy so any potential relationship is doomed from the start.”

  “Too bad.”

  “I asked Julie out once. Her husband was my best friend so it was rather awkward.”

  Gabe’s chest tightened. He knew nothing about Julie’s private life. Right now, he felt as if he were intruding.

  “Did the two of you hi
t it off?” Gabe had to ask the question even though he dreaded the answer.

  A grin split Jeff’s face. “We didn’t go out. Julie wouldn’t hear of it. I’m not positive, but I don’t think she’s dated anyone since James.”

  Gabe wouldn’t ask another question about Julie. Not one.

  “Where is her husband?” Dammit, he had to know.

  “Died in Afghanistan. Julie crumbled. Opening her coffee and sweet shop saved her.”

  No more questions. It wasn’t right.

  “We’ll have to do this again,” Gabe said as he stood to say goodnight, surprised that he half meant it.

  He took the last of their paper plates to the garbage, brought a dishrag back, and wiped the table. “I’m out of here early in the morning. Julie doesn’t know it, but she’s in for the ride of her life.”

  Jeff laughed loud and long.

  “I’d love to see that.”

  “Not on your life, and you won’t make a call to warn her either.”

  “And spoil the surprise? No way.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Gabe, accustomed to getting up in the early morning hours, was dressed and ready to go before six the next morning. He had enough sense to know Julie wouldn’t appreciate his arrival this early, so he settled back with his third cup of coffee and enjoyed the realization that he could call this his first day off in over a year—the first day he didn’t have to answer to anyone but himself. The first day he refused to worry about the mob.

  But all he could think of was Julie.

  By six-thirty he was out the door. The Harley roared to life the first time he hit the starter. “Sweet baby,” he murmured, loving the sound of the engine and the power of the machine.

  He tooled down the road toward Julie’s. He’d seen her address on her checkbook she’d left on the counter one day.

  His heart lighter than he’d ever remembered, he pulled into her driveway and turned off the engine.

  In seconds the door flew open. “I could hear you coming.” Julie laughed.

  Her face was free of make-up; she had on a pair of faded jeans, and a T-shirt that had seen better days. To Gabe, she looked wonderful.

  She walked around the cycle. “She looks good.”