She needed to get some rest.
As she curled up to sleep, she heard the sounds of the surrounding farm. Paige led a very different life from hers but she could understand her fondness for it. There was a simplicity in the routine, although it was far from predictable, as today had proven.
Six
Peyton
Her days fell into a comfortable routine. Peyton did her best to keep up with the farm and the bakery, however, she found it wasn't as easy as she’s originally thought. Her respect and admiration for her sister, her business, and the multiple balls she juggled successfully on a daily basis had increased by several notches.
Peyton was almost embarrassed that she was a decorated FBI agent, yet found it downright challenging to keep up with her sister’s life. Of course, the near-constant pain in her leg and abdomen didn’t help much. Each morning she woke up early enough to do the physical therapy exercises she'd been given by her physical therapist. She repeated them again in the evening. Each night she fell asleep worried if she would ever see any improvement.
Saturday morning rolled around, and she awoke to her cell phone ringing. She picked it up, expecting the only person who would call her so early in the morning was Paige.
“Hello?” She rubbed her eyes sluggishly and sat up in bed.
“Peyton, hello. I’m really sick.” Helen Jenkins, the assistant manager of the bakery coughed loudly into the phone. “I'm not going to make it in today. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh—it’s okay, Helen. I'm sorry you're not feeling well. I'm sure I can handle it. Is there anything specific I need to know about today's orders?”
By the end of the conversation, she bit her bottom lip as she hung up the phone. She wasn't sure that she could handle this at all, but she had to. She'd been working side by side with Helen for the last week, but now that she was faced with opening the bakery herself and filling orders without Helen there to back her up on a busy Saturday, nervousness furrowed her brow.
Carpe diem. Peyton jumped out of bed and into the shower. There was no time to waste if she was going to take care of the animals, chickens, walk and feed Radar, and get to the bakery in time to begin the baking.
She finished all the chores with a sense of accomplishment. Her eyes narrowed, thinking back to the bad first impression she’d given Jax, annoyance flashing that she wished he could see her now — and that it mattered to her as much as it did.
Over the course of the week, she’d trained Radar to help her corral the goats whenever they escaped, as they inevitably did, mischievous creatures that they were.
Arriving at the bakery, she organized the ingredients for the cupcakes scheduled for that day when she remembered she needed more than just cupcakes for the display case. There were also several birthday orders that also had to be baked and iced.
She turned on the ovens and prioritized a list of orders and pick up times. She wiped her sweaty palms on her apron. These were cupcakes. She was used to taking down very dangerous criminals on a daily basis. She could handle baking cupcakes—she assured herself taking a deep breath, chin raised.
Despite her best efforts, she began to lose ground. She turned on her injured leg with a forty-pound bag of flour when a shooting pain ripped through her leg. The bag slipped out of her hand and began to spill all over the floor while she gripped the counter to keep from sharing the flour’s fate.
Flour was everywhere. In the air. On the floor. On the counters. And all over her. She coughed as she tried to brush the flour out of her hair.
“Great. This is just great.” She frowned as the timer went off and she limped over to the oven to get a tray of cupcakes out before they overcooked. Placing them on a cooling rack, she grabbed the icing tool to ice a few cupcakes that were already cool on the counter, gasping when the icing squirted out the opposite end all and over her apron and face.
She closed her eyes and counted to three; she licked her tongue along her bottom lip and groaned as she tasted the frosting. Her eyes grew wide. It was good. It was really good! Hmm. Maybe she wasn’t as bad at this as she’d originally thought.
Then she heard the jingle of the front door.
Drats. Another customer.
She looked down at her apron, covered in flour, and could only imagine what she looked like. All she could do was hope that whoever walked through that door was more interested in delicious cupcakes than the appearance of the baker. She also hoped that she wasn’t going to single-handedly ruin her sister’s bakery in the span of the two short weeks she was in charge of it.
She grabbed a tray of already iced cupcakes to add to the front counter display and hurried out of the baking area toward the storefront. As she turned the counter, her foot slipped out from under her and another sharp pain shot through her leg. The intensity took her breath away, and the tray of cupcakes slid out of her hand and toward the counter.
“Oh no!” She gasped, struggling to catch her balance. It was too late; nothing she could do would stop the tray from falling, so she did the next best thing and saved herself from landing on her butt.
“Got it!” The customer lunged forward at the same moment. His voice echoed through the bakery, and she recognized him right away. That face. Those eyes. Jax.
Of course, he would show up just in time to see her embarrass herself—yet again.
Worse yet, she balled her fists, he’d caught the tray of cupcakes and saved them.
Seven
Jax
Jax sauntered down Main Street of Four Corners, hoping to find something that would quell his boredom. He’d wanted this, right? He’d wanted life to slow down—an environment of peace, fresh air, and boredom after his tours in Afghanistan. Yes, boredom. But now that it was here, he was beginning to think he might go mad.
He'd been up at sunrise for an early morning hike and now was starving. On his stroll through town to find a breakfast place, he’d noticed that there were several new businesses in the area.
He stopped in front of a bakery, salivating at the cupcake display in the window. His stomach growled. He almost never ate sugar, but the cupcakes in front of him looked amazing. They called to him. Carrot cake cupcakes are healthy because they contain carrots, right? He was rationalizing, and he knew it, but he wanted one.
Jax entered the bakery, his eyes on the display case filled with the prettiest cupcakes he’d ever seen. Who knew that almond sour cream vanilla cupcakes with ganache filling and white chocolate frosting were even a thing, he grinned as he continued reading the labels. A loud gasp pulled his eyes away from the cupcakes in the case just in time to see a tray of cupcakes flying through the air toward him. He reacted on instinct and lunged, his muscles straining to grab the flying object; he managed to get one hand beneath the tray and the other on an edge to stop the forward progress right before the cupcakes slid off.
“Got it,” he announced with relief, then looked directly into the eyes of the woman who had been monopolizing his thoughts over the last few days. “Peyton,” he smiled a slow, sly grin, “it looks like I came to your rescue again. Either that or you’re trying to kill me.” He bit his lip hard to squelch the laugh threatening to erupt as he took in the sight of her—honey-blonde hair covered with streaks of flour and green frosting smeared across the bridge of her delicate nose.
“I would have managed just fine—I don't need anyone to come to my rescue, least of all you,” she declared with a scowl.
“I didn't mean to imply otherwise.” His smile faded, not because of her comment, but because of what she did to him. He hated to admit it, but seeing her again sent a signal through his body that his mind immediately countered with big red warning flags.
“I'm sorry,” Peyton sighed as her shoulders dropped, “that's not entirely true.” She took the tray from him and set it on the counter. “Thank you. You saved the day, quite literally.”
“I'm glad I could help.” He studied her flushed cheeks. “It looks like you've been pretty busy this morning. You run the
bakery and the farm?” He leaned against the cupcake display counter and folded his arms across his chest, resisting the urge to brush frosting off her nose.
She nodded. “Oh, it's been non-stop.” She picked up a cupcake, placed it on a plate, and handed it to him. “Would you like some coffee to go with this for your troubles?”
He grinned. “If you wouldn't mind, that would be great.”
“No problem. How do you like it?” She poured a cup and paused, her eyes meeting his.
“With company.” The words slipped out. He bit his lip, hard. Had he really just said that?
She dropped her eyes back to the coffee she’d poured, but she responded with, “Ah, well. I suppose I could use a break.” She poured a second cup of coffee and pointed to a small table in the corner. He watched her carefully, expecting at any moment that she would realize what she’d done and scold him for something—anything. But she didn’t.
“This is the first time it's been quiet all day. I'm sure it won't last very long.”
“So you have a farm and a bakery?” He raised an eyebrow. “That's a lot to juggle.”
“Actually, I don't have either.” She sat down across from him. “It's my twin sister's farm, her bakery, and her ornery goats.”
He laughed. “A twin? That must be fun. I just have a younger brother.” The muscles in his jaw tensed as brother rolled off of his tongue. He met Peyton’s eyes, her eyebrows raised, and she studied him for a moment. She was insightful, he’d give her that, in addition to being completely adorable while wearing an apron covered in flour and a nose frosted with icing.
For half a second, life had felt normal; he was just a man having a cup of coffee with a beautiful and interesting—albeit stubborn—woman, instead of Jax Lawton, loser.
Peyton’s eyes narrowed, trained on his, but she didn’t ask any questions and he was grateful for that.
“It is fun, most of the time,” she agreed. “She's my twin and my best friend. I guess that's why I got a little defensive over the goats.” The corner of her mouth lifted. “I thought I could handle it, but obviously I'm not Paige, even if I look exactly like her.” Her brow knit together, as though she were still trying to figure out how to fix the problem, and he realized it was an apology, of sorts. She brushed her hair back over her shoulders, laughing as a cloud of flour billowed up into the air. “Clearly, I am not as skilled at multitasking as my sister.”
Her eyes sparkled, reminding him of the color of the Caribbean sea on a hot, clear day—it was his favorite place on earth—except her eyes were even more vibrant and an even more beautiful sea-green. They might be his new favorite place. He let the thought filter through his mind without judgment and followed her lead, “That’s why the goats were confused.” He nodded in agreement. “You look like her, but you don't smell like her.”
She guffawed. “Excuse me?” She raised an eyebrow, her mouth twitched.
“Not that you smell, that's not what I meant.” He chuckled. “I mean she would have her own unique scent—unlike lavender and lemon—and even though you look the same, you will never smell the same. The goats were looking for Paige, and they got a whiff of Peyton.”
He watched her shiver and realized he’d revealed too much.
“Oh, that still sounds awful.” She scrunched up her nose as she laughed. “Oh no.” Her eyes widened, and she touched the bridge of her nose. “What's on my nose?”
“Just a little frosting.” He couldn't help but smile as her cheeks flushed. “It looks delicious.”
“Oh, stop!” She tossed a napkin at him, laughing. It was unbelievable what her smile did to him. “This is ridiculous. I've got work to do.” She jumped up from the table and stumbled.
Instinctively, he reached up and caught her by the elbow to steady her.
“Easy there.” He swept his gaze over her leg and back to her eyes, his filled with concern. “Are you supposed to be on it this much?”
She cocked her head at him, curious. “I’m fine, and I can manage.” She pulled her elbow free of his grasp. Defensiveness returned to her eyes, the lighter moment disappeared. “I need to get back to work. I hope you enjoy the cupcake.”
He couldn’t stop himself. He should have. But he didn’t. “I get it, you're tough and strong, I've seen it in so many people — soldiers who are injured. But being strong or tough won’t matter when you permanently disable yourself by not taking proper care of an injured leg.” He stood up from the table, surprised that he suddenly cared very much what happened to her.
He'd argued with men many times her size, armed with weapons that the government wouldn't even admit existed, and never had he felt more nervous than when she turned to face him.
The fire in her eyes would have intimidated a man who hadn’t seen and experienced all that he had, and her eyebrow lifted when he didn’t back down. The fact that her anger was in complete juxtaposition to the frosting on her nose may have helped but regardless, he didn’t regret telling her the truth.
He wasn't sure why he cared about this woman that he barely knew, but he did, and she deserved to know the truth—what she risked by being foolish and prideful. He'd seen far too many people hurt themselves beyond repair simply because they refused to admit the truth or follow direction.
There was no question in his mind that Peyton had a severe injury, one that was recent, and even though she preferred to lie to him about it, he’d decided he wouldn’t keep quiet—regardless of how unbelievably adorable she looked with frosting on her face and a fierce glare that would scare an average man away.
Eight
Peyton
Peyton struggled to control the flash of anger, more than a bit surprised that he didn’t back down when she expressed every bit of it through her eyes. “Those are some big assumptions you're making, Jax. I'm not sure what has given you the impression that I need your advice—or your help—but I don't.” She narrowed her eyes at him, barely able to control the quiver of indignation that spread up her spine. “I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”
“Are you?” He took a step toward her, forcing her to look up and straight into his pale blue eyes—the flecks of gold scolding her. “Just because you know in theory, doesn't mean you're practicing it, Peyton.”
Peyton’s eyes bored into his, her voice carefully controlled. “Jax,” she practically hissed, “we barely know each other and beyond that, I don't have time for this. There are cupcakes about to burn in the oven and a birthday order that needs to be iced before—” She looked up at the large cupcake shaped clock on the wall. “Oh no! I have ten minutes!” She whirled away, scrambling back toward the bakery counter.
“Wait, Peyton.” Jax followed her to the counter, reaching for her elbow. “I'll make you a deal.”
“What deal?” she spat as she spun back around and pinned him with her eyes, jerking her elbow from his grasp. Her chest heaved with anger but she paused by the counter. “I don't have time, remember? I'm about to lose my sister’s customers,” she admitted, licking her lips as her brow creased. It was a real possibility.
“I'll tell you what. I’ll help you with the cupcakes if you promise to meet me in the morning for some… training.” He held her gaze.
She stared back at him, stunned by the offer. Her head cocked to the side as she studied him. Why was he so focused on her injury? Nothing about him gave her the impression that he couldn't be trusted, yet at the same time, he barely knew her. Regardless, the clock continued to tick down, and she wanted Paige to come back to a bakery that still ran as successfully as it had when she left, with the same number of loyal customers.
“Fine. You’re on.” She turned and rushed through the swinging door that separated the bakery from the storefront. He followed after her, and she spun back around with a scowl on her face, pulling every inch of her 5’9” frame as straight as possible, giving him a frosty look before she glanced at the clock again. At this point, she had to accept the help of anyone who was willing.
She hated the fact that he appeared to have won this battle, too, but there were more important matters that required her focus. She lined up the cupcakes and the icing. “Have you ever iced a cupcake before?” She glanced at him as he moved beside her.
“Um, sure, when I was five.” He offered a lopsided smile.
“That's as good as a no.” She released a breath through pursed lips. “Start by washing your hands, and then join me over here,” she instructed, moving toward the left bakery counter.
He did as she asked, moving a bit too close for comfort as he joined her by the frosting bar. She gave him a sideways glance and put some distance between them.
“Ready, able, and willing,” he announced, his voice low.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” she retorted, as the heat rose from her toes to the very top of her head. Keeping this guy at arm’s length was proving to be more of a challenge than she’d anticipated. What was it about him that intrigued her—made her vulnerable?
She didn’t want to admit it, but moments ago Jax had voiced the exact concerns that had been keeping her awake at night. What if her leg never healed? What if she could never do the job she loved again? What would that mean for her future? Her inability to bear children aside, she really believed that the work she did was important and made a difference. She'd saved lives, she'd caught the most hideous, violent criminals, and she’d been instrumental in putting many of them away for good. But all of that would come to an end if she couldn't pass the physical test. He’d zeroed in on something private, brought her worst fears into the open, and it hit a sensitive nerve.
“I didn't realize it was such an art,” he interrupted her thoughts, and she snorted. His eyebrows knitted together in concentration as he attempted to ice the first cupcake.
Circle 0f Trust_K-9 Unit Page 3