The Angler, the Baker, and the Billionaire (Destination Billionaire Romance)

by Day, Amberlee

  “I got lost at a county fair.”

  “Recently?”

  “When I was six.”

  “Is an Alaskan county fair different than county fairs in the lower forty-eight?”

  “I have no idea. Do you know a lot about county fairs? Did you attend county fairs in California?”

  “Fair question. No. If we had them, I didn’t know about them. My idea of county fairs is the old movie State Fair.”

  “Set in Iowa?”

  She smiled. “I think it is. Have you seen it?”

  He reached out and held one of her hands on the table. “I’ve heard of it. I think my mom likes it. Your hands are cold.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “You have goose bumps.”

  “It’s—”

  Jamie picked up his chair and moved it around the table so it was so close it was touching hers. He took off the too-small jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  “It’s okay,” she protested, “really. I should have thought ahead and brought a sweater.”

  I had one laying out, but one look at you and I forgot about it, she thought. Lucky I already had my shoes on.

  He put his arm around her too, pulling her close. It startled her how quickly he’d gone from being across the table to having him so near; his arm, his leg brushing up against hers. He smelled good, too. She breathed in the scent of him, along with the Sitka night air, and thought how intermingled the two were for her. She turned toward him, not willing to hold back the urge to snuggle in. His free arm curved around her too, and he pulled her even closer. Her breath caught at the attraction she felt, and at the same time she felt herself melting against his chest. It was a good fit.

  Inside the restaurant, a live band began to play a Lionel Ritchie song.

  “Fancy a dance, Sophie Molina?”

  “I do fancy a dance, thank you. Here or inside?”

  He stood up, pulling her with him. “Whichever you like.”

  They were alone on the deck, but she could see couples forming on the dance floor inside.

  “Here’s nice.” Before she’d finished speaking, he’d pulled her close again to dance. They fell into rhythm, swaying with the music, and Sophie thought it wouldn’t be hard to get hooked on dancing with Jamie. In fact, she was happy that when the song ended he just kept dancing until the next one started.

  “Hey,” she said when something caught her eye. “You have a neck.”

  She reached up and stroked the skin there, exposed with his beard tied in a ponytail. He shivered under her touch, so she did it again. He responded by pulling her closer, his hand on her back reaching all the way around her waist.

  Sophie caught her breath, wondering briefly if the people inside could see them and if the electricity between them was visible. Swallowing hard, she said, “You keep a crazy-long beard, but shave your neck.”

  “I did tonight.”

  “On my account?”

  “Of course. Had to look my best for our second date, part two.”

  “Thank you.”

  She glanced up, and, despite her own attraction, was startled at the look in Jamie’s eyes. For the second time in two days, Sophie was sure that he was about to kiss her, but then the waiter came through the doorway.

  “Your appetizers,” he said, putting a plate of steaming crab cakes on the table. “Fresh from the Sound this morning.”

  Jamie cleared his throat and led Sophie back to the table. He pulled his own chair back to the other side, which was reasonable if they were going to eat, she told herself. But she was starting to wonder if that kiss would ever happen.

  “I hope you like these,” he said. “I had them here once and thought they were delicious.”

  Swallowing her first bite, Sophie said, “Very good. I’ve had crab cakes before, back home, but these are superb.”

  “Mmm. Better than I remember.”

  “I actually tried making these once. You’d think it wouldn’t be that hard, but it was a terrible failure.”

  Jamie looked concerned. “You can’t cook?”

  “Not well. I spend all my time baking. Dinner’s usually a sandwich or take-out soup Mom and I traded with the deli next door for fresh bread.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  “Do you miss San Francisco?”

  “Yes. I miss my mom and our bakery. That was my whole life, really. I have friends, old neighbors. My dad’s there, but we only see each other once in a while, anyway. The house is on the market. I need to sell to pay off medical bills. Anyway …” She dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “It’s good to be here now. Helping Cathy start her new business is just what I needed. I was in high school when Mom started ours, and I know I helped a lot, but I wasn’t ready to be part of the decision-making. Now I think I’m able to advise Cathy with quite a bit, even in the business end.”

  “Since I know now that Cathy’s taking a maternity leave—” He winked at her. “—when do you think she’ll start? Once the baby comes, or earlier?”

  “I’m not sure. She runs out of energy fast; you can see it more every day. And we still have a lot to do before the Cookie Jar opens and the baby comes. I still haven’t learned how to make her rolls, or some of her other signature items.”

  “That’s why you’re here, I guess,” he said. “I know Cathy’s glad to have your help.”

  “She’s been so tired, she’s taken a few days off from baking. Did you know?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “We’re going to start again Monday. Up at three, working eight hours by eleven. Or me, at least. Cathy will work until she’s too tired, I guess.”

  “You’ll be busy.”

  “Yes. Actually, I noticed when I was there for the twins’ birthday last night that … well, Roger and the boys aren’t great to pitch in at home.”

  “No? They don’t help with dishes, that sort of thing?”

  “Dishes, laundry, cleaning. Cathy was doing it all. She let me help, but she was so tired.”

  “Sounds like those boys need to step up.”

  Sophie raised an eyebrow. “And are you one to do housework?”

  “I’ve been known to.”

  “Then maybe you should be the one to talk to them.”

  “Me?” he asked.

  “Sure. They need some motivation.”

  Jamie leaned back. “Not from me, they don’t. I might talk to Roger about the charter fishing business, but not about how he runs his own home.”

  Sophie sighed. “No, I guess not. Anyway, until something changes there, I think I’ll be stopping in afternoons and helping her around the house.”

  “Are you going to cook them dinner, too?” Jamie grinned.

  “I can make sandwiches,” she reminded him.

  “And you’ll be working baker’s hours, so in bed by …?”

  “In bed by eight o’clock.”

  Jamie whistled. His hazel eyes locked on to hers, reminding her that this fuzzy face that was so easy to talk to could also give her heart palpitations.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I think I’m not going to be seeing you much for a while. You’re going to be too busy.”

  Sophie moved the remnants of her crab cake around the plate with her fork. “Maybe not. No, I suppose not.”

  “You’ll be busy working—”

  “Yes …”

  “And learning—”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And going to bed early.”

  “That’s what I’ll be doing, all right.”

  Sophie saw something flash in Jamie’s eyes and realized how disappointed she sounded at the prospect of not seeing him. Actually, she realized how disappointed she felt at the prospect.

  “Well, maybe—” she began.

  “It’s just as well.”

  “It is?”

  “I actually have to be out of town for a while.”

  “On business?”

  “Ye
s.”

  Sophie sat up straighter, putting a polite smile on her face. “Well, then, you’ll be busy yourself. Nice that we both have so much going on, isn’t it?”

  Jamie nodded slowly. “Yes. It’s good we do.”

  The rest of the evening was nice, but for some reason, Jamie kept the spark between them at bay. She wished she knew why. They still enjoyed each other’s company, still laughed and talked. But there was no more dancing, and when he left her at her doorstep later that evening, to her utter disappointment, he only kissed her hand and said goodbye.

  12

  The Baker

  The next two weeks, Sophie later decided, was Cathy’s version of nesting. With the baby’s birth so close, she had a sudden urge to teach Sophie everything she needed to know to run her bakery and have everything up and running on site to do so. Sophie was beyond surprised to see the sudden rise in energy Cathy had to accomplish everything.

  To make the baking happen, Sophie did return to her baker’s schedule: bed at 8, up at 3:00 a.m. As work was still being completed at the bakery, she and Cathy met in the lodge kitchen and baked cinnamon rolls every morning, plus crusty bread for soup and bread for sandwiches. Once Sophie had Cathy’s recipes down, they moved on to donuts and cupcakes. Then, they really had some fun. One morning they made beautiful chocolate and blackberry scones, and the next day they played with a bread pudding recipe Cathy thought would be perfect for the Cookie Jar. Eventually, Sophie had Cathy’s repertoire down and even taught Cathy how to make a few new things, including gluten-free brownies and sourdough loaves that she and her mother had been known for in San Francisco.

  The time spent with Cathy in the kitchen was as light and fluffy as their cinnamon rolls and just as healing for the soul. After a day measuring ingredients and handling dough, Sophie found herself sleeping deeper and breathing easier than she had in a long time, since before her mother’s health declined. She even started waking a half hour early to do yoga, so she went into her day of baking feeling centered and ready to learn.

  Something was missing during those intense weeks of learning and working side by side with Cathy. She would have expected it was her mother’s absence that would leave a hole in her days, but in truth, her mother was there with Sophie in the kitchen. Every time Sophie eyeballed a teaspoon of salt or poured just the right amount of batter into cupcake tins, she felt her mother’s influence and presence. A happy realization came to her that, although she’d lost her mother, the time they’d spent together had been of the best quality, and Sophie would always have that with her.

  What really was missing took her a while to identify. It wasn’t until one morning as she finished melting butter on the stove that the missing element walked into the lodge kitchen and sent clouds of butterflies buzzing through her.

  “Jamie?”

  Jamie’s eyes found hers, and the twinkles above his beard—had that crazy beard gotten even longer?—lit up on meeting hers.

  “Did you say Jamie’s here?” Cathy came out of the pantry carrying a bottle of her cinnamon and sugar mixture. “Are you back in town? And what are you doing up so early? Rolls won’t be ready for a couple of hours.”

  “I know.”

  “Did Roger send you?” Cathy looked at the wall clock. “He’s probably not even up yet.”

  “No, I just … stopped in.” He still smiled at Sophie in a way that made her melt like the butter she was about to spread on the dough. “Haven’t seen you for a while. How’s the baking business?”

  Sophie tried to keep her head clear as he drew nearer. “It’s on the rise,” she said.

  “Nice one.” Jamie nodded at her pun. “What’s this you’re making?”

  “Cathy’s cinnamon rolls. Your favorite.”

  “They are my favorite. And you know how to bake them now?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “They’re my kryptonite. Hard to stay away.”

  Sophie had to will herself to break eye contact. She wasn’t imagining that he was talking about more than the rolls … although he did seem incapable of resisting those rolls.

  “It won’t do you any good being here now,” Cathy said. As focused as she’d been on training Sophie the last few weeks, she appeared to have missed Jamie’s flirtatious undertones. “Unless you’re here to help bake, you’d best go back to bed and come back when they’re ready.”

  “I’m not tired,” Jamie said, “so I guess I’m here to help.”

  Sophie shot him a look, her heart doing a flip. “What, you’re going to help bake?”

  “Why not? With two expert bakers to direct me, I should be able to be of some use.”

  Sophie looked at Cathy for guidance, but Cathy only shrugged and disappeared again into the pantry.

  “Okay.” Sophie wiped her hands on a towel. “You go get washed up at the sink, and I’ll find you a beard net. For Kyle.”

  She’d been teasing about the beard net, only because she doubted Cathy had one on hand. She found one, though, as well as a hairnet and apron. The confidence that seemed to radiate off Jamie dimmed a bit as he submitted to the new uniform.

  “Don’t look so worried,” Sophie assured him. Her arms circled around his waist as she doubled the extra-long apron strings around him and tied them in the front. “I’ll be gentle with you.”

  He laughed a little, but clearly Jamie was not in his element in the kitchen. To his credit, she had to admit a few hours later, he was both a quick and cheerful learner. She worried that he’d try to be silly and do something to mess up the cinnamon rolls, but everything she told him to do, he did to a tee.

  Not that he didn’t flirt. At one point she made him go wash up again after he touched his floury hand to her nose.

  “What’s next?” he asked when the rolls were rising and fragrant bread baked in the ovens. “Cookies? Pastries?”

  Cathy answered, since she was nearby. “That’s it for this morning.”

  “That’s all? Are you just saying that to get rid of me? Because I’ve never made a chocolate chip cookie in my life, but I bet I could make a mean one.”

  “I’m sure you could,” Cathy yawned, “but I have an early doctor’s appointment and then final inspections on the bakery this afternoon. We only have time for the basics this morning.”

  “I’m disappointed,” Jamie said. “Just when I was getting the hang of things.”

  “You did a great job, too.” Sophie finished wiping down the countertop, and smiled up at him. “If you ever need a second job—or third?—I would definitely recommend you as a baking assistant.”

  “Why, thank you,” Jamie said. “I’ll try not to be hurt that I don’t qualify as journeyman baker yet.”

  “Speaking of jobs … if you’re back, don’t you need to get ready for the boats?” Sophie asked.

  Jamie glanced up at Cathy, who just shook her head and turned her attention to the sink. “I’m not really needed on the boats today,” he said. “I just jump in when they’re shorthanded.”

  “Or when you want to,” Cathy muttered loudly.

  “Roger’s very good to find a spot for me as often as he does,” Jamie said. He turned his attention back to Sophie. “So, what now for you?”

  “Cinnamon rolls need to bake, then I’ll put on that delicious frosting you helped make. Cathy, leave those dishes. I’ve got them. Why don’t you go back to bed for a while? I’ll have the rolls ready when Roger comes for them.”

  “Are you sure?” Cathy yawned.

  “Positive. Jamie can help.”

  “Yes.” He stood up straighter. “Yes, I can. Sophie’s right, you go rest before your appointment.”

  “You know, I think I might just do that.”

  They saw her off, then set in together to tackle the dirty bowls and utensils.

  “Wash or dry?” Sophie asked him.

  “Doesn’t matter. Which one do you want?”

  “I don’t care. Rock-paper-scissors?”

  Despite his insistence that he had “busin
ess,” Sophie still didn’t know if Jamie was homeless or dangerous—no, not dangerous, she’d gotten past that, at least—or if he’d ever been in prison; but at least he knew rock-paper-scissors. He lost, so Sophie made him wash.

  “You look happy,” he said, handing her a freshly washed dish. “Do you like working with Cathy?”

  “I do, more than I expected. I thought it might be too hard after losing my mom.”

  “You must have spent a lot of time together.”

  “We did. She always said it was too much time, that I should be out socializing more. The bakery was my social time, though. Once the morning work was done, a lot of my day was spent with customers.”

  “A lot of regulars, I suppose?”

  “Sure. We were right in downtown, so there were businesses all over the place. Plus it was a touristy area, so lots of different people.”

  “Any men come in on a regular basis?” Jamie asked.

  “Men? No. Only women. Men in California don’t eat pastries.” She managed a straight face, concentrating on the spatula she was drying. When he didn’t respond, she snapped her damp towel at him.

  “Ow!” Jamie’s hand went straight from the water to where she’d got his hip.

  “Oooh, that was a good one! And, whoops.” She pointed to his hip. “You got your pants wet, there.”

  She broke into giggles, until she saw him coming at her with a pile of soap bubbles in one hand, ready to blow them at her.

  “Hey! Don’t you dare. Cathy runs a clean kitchen, and—”

  Finding she’d backed herself up against a cabinet, she yelped and darted sideways. She only made it a few feet before his free arm wrapped around her waist, and she found herself pulled close against his chest. Her body responded with fireworks, and she had to catch her breath. The bubbles were still in his free hand, and his eyes were dancing.

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “I think you’ll find I’m someone who very much dares, Sophie Molina.”

  “Then you must spend a lot of time looking over your shoulder, Jamie … I don’t even know your last name.”

  “Why would I have to look over my shoulder?” His eyes were smoldering, and his voice deepened.