Charmed by Chase

by Theresa Paolo

  A few short months later, she opened Sweet Dreams Bakery and was an instant success, selling everyone on her upbeat personality and her now famous maple bacon cupcake—a cupcake that won top billing at the annual Town Festival, beating out Terry, of the Happy Apple, and her famous apple tart.

  He’d avoided the tiny section of Main Street as best he could. He had nothing left to say to Shay Michaels. There’d been occasions when they bumped into each other—small town and all, it was kind of impossible not to, especially when she was good friends with his sister.

  With all those years between them, he was surprised she even remembered him. The boy from Red Maple Falls she made believe was her future before she stomped on his heart and turned him bitter.

  It didn’t matter she was the last person he wanted to see. She was a citizen of the town now, and her business was a part of the community. He had no choice but to push aside their past and make sure everything was all right.

  He took a deep breath, clearing his head and getting back into the right mind set.

  “Did you call Shay?” Matt asked a moment later. When building alarms went off in Red Maple Falls, nine times out of ten it was an accident and nothing to be concerned about.

  “I did. It wasn’t her.”

  While break-ins were rare, it did happen on occasion, which meant he needed to approach this as if it were a viable situation, just in case.

  “She’s on her way there now.”

  Matt’s heart kicked into overdrive, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “What do you mean she’s on her way?”

  “I told her I’d send you over, but she said it’s her shop and if someone had the… the um… balls to break into her shop, she was going to make them sorry.”

  The girl might only stand at an inch or two over five feet, but she packed a lot of punch in that tiny, tight body of hers. He’d almost feel bad for the intruder if she got there before he did.

  Wait. What if it was an intruder? A trained criminal who would take no prisoners, and she’s storming in there like Joan of Arc ready to fight a war? A rush of panic shot through him, causing his hands to tighten even more on the steering wheel.

  “Son of a bitch,” Matt mumbled under his breath as he slammed his foot on the gas and headed toward Sweet Dreams Bakery.

  In Red Maple Falls time, Main Street was only five minutes away, but in real time it was a good twelve minutes from where he was. Shay lived roughly ten minutes away and already had a head start.

  Matt flipped his lights on and flew down the road, kicking up dirt and rocks in his wake. It was a quarter to ten and most businesses on Main closed at seven. If Shay got to the bakery before him, there’d be no one to help her if she needed it.

  Violating too many traffic laws, he made it to the bakery in nine minutes. The street was empty except for Shay’s bright red Mini Cooper, and he pulled his cruiser right beside it.

  He flung his door open and, with his hand on his gun ready to hurt anyone if they hurt Shay, he ran to the front entrance. The door was unlocked so he let himself in, immediately wishing he wore sunglasses for the sensory overload caused by the pink and white everything.

  Unable to focus, he squinted against the brightness, taking in the flipped chair to his right. He retrieved his gun and moved quietly toward the register. The shelves were covered in flour, chocolate chips scattered across the counter, and pans knocked from their perch lay haphazardly across the floor.

  A slight sniffle caught his attention, and he rounded the counter to the kitchen to find Shay sitting in a mess of flour and a path of destroyed cupcakes, her head hanging in defeat.

  “Shay, are you okay?” he asked, squatting down to her level, but on alert in case the culprit was still lurking. “You aren’t hurt, are you?” He rested his hand on her, but she stayed quiet. “Dammit, Shay, answer me.”

  She blinked up, tears glistening in those beautiful hazel eyes, and suddenly, all those years between them didn’t exist. God, he wanted to take her in his arms and protect her and, find a way to make the tears his own so he could bear the pain for her.

  Her hands fell limply to her sides as she let out a loud puff of peppermint breath.

  “It’s ruined.”

  A tear escaped her lid and slid down her cheek. This time he couldn’t help himself. He reached out, swiping a finger across the wet streak. “Don’t cry.”

  She inhaled deeply and straightened her shoulders. “I’m good,” she said, getting to her feet as if she flipped a switch. She wiped her hands against her thighs, leaving white streaks of flour across black leggings. The material was practically molded to her skin, highlighting every perfect curve.

  He shook his head, reminding himself he had a job to do, and that job was not checking out Shay Michaels.

  “Did you see the person who did this?” he asked.

  She shook her head then glanced around to the disaster that was her kitchen. “No. I checked the register. They didn’t take any money.”

  Did they take anything?”

  “No.”

  “They just destroyed the place and left?”

  “Appears that way.”

  “Do you have surveillance cameras?”

  She cocked her eyebrow and her hip. “What do you think?”

  His eyes lingered on the soft curves of her lips long after she stopped speaking. He had a lot of thoughts running through his head, like how they were the softest lips he’d ever kissed. How she was the single most beautiful woman he had ever seen. How he still couldn’t believe after all those years of not seeing her, knowing where she was in the world, she was right there in front of him that very second.

  All the animosity he felt toward what they once had vanished as he looked into her sad eyes. He cleared his throat, bringing him back to reality and warning himself to keep it professional. “I can see if they left any fingerprints on the door.”

  “What’s the point? They didn’t steal anything. Just made a mess and ruined all the cupcakes I made for Tommy Kramer’s sixth birthday party tomorrow.”

  The point? Nobody destroyed a bakery for no reason, especially if they didn’t steal anything. In his line of work, he learned that there was motive behind everything. Somebody broke into Shay’s shop tonight, and the question was, not only who, but why?

  Retaliation was at the top of his guesses. Someone who felt Shay had wronged them and wanted to hurt her in the best way they knew how. The little bakery on Main was Shay’s life, according to his sister, and if someone wanted to find a way to unnerve her this place was an easy target. “Do you have any enemies?”

  Her eyes widened. “I get along with everybody here. Why would you even ask that?”

  “If they didn’t steal anything then it would appear that whoever did this was trying to send a message. Maybe you don’t have any enemies here, but what about in New York?”

  Chapter 2

  Shay sucked in a startled breath at Matt’s question. Who the hell did he think he was? Sure, his shirt said Sheriff, but that didn’t mean he had to use the opportunity to go probing into her past. When she’d left New York, she’d left everyone and everything behind her. There was no reason to bring it up after all this time.

  He tilted his head in her direction like he knew she was hiding something. Maybe she was, but that was for her to know, and her alone. She didn’t care that his freakishly green eyes had an extra sparkle in them as he looked at her or that his lips were so damn kissable she deserved a medal for not attacking them.

  No, it didn’t matter that Matt Hayes was sex on a stick dressed in a tan uniform that screamed dominance. She wouldn’t tell him about her enemies in New York because, quite frankly, it was ancient history… just like the two of them.

  “Nobody I can think of,” she said, bending down to pick up a pot from the floor. She placed it in the sink. Even though she kept her store cleaner than a hospital, she wasn’t taking any chances. All of the pots and pans needed to be washed before she could use the
m again.

  So much for her early night in front of the TV with a glass of chardonnay and her Kindle. It’ll have to wait for another time. Right now, she had a shop to clean and five dozen cupcakes to rebake and refrost.

  “You could be washing away fingerprints,” Matt said as she plunged her hands into the warm water.

  “It’s fine. Probably some stupid kid who has nothing better to do than wreak havoc.”

  The truth was she didn’t want Matt dusting for fingerprints… or any evidence for that matter. If it was somebody from her past, she didn’t want Matt to get involved. He didn’t need to know about that part of her life. It was better to forget about it.

  “I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough.”

  “And I think your badge is getting to your head.”

  His jaw ticked and, as silly as it was, she found satisfaction in his annoyance.

  “My badge has nothing to do with it. I’m the Sheriff of the town and whether you like it or not it is my duty to protect you and your shop.”

  She knew this, of course, but hearing him say it—declaring that the only reason he was there was because he had to be not because he wanted to be—cut a little deeper than she expected.

  Pushing aside the disappointment that someone could ruin what she’d worked so hard for, she squared her shoulders and glared at Matt with all the irritation she could muster. “Glad to see you care.”

  “I do,” he grunted in heated anger.

  “Because it’s your duty, right?”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  It didn’t matter what he meant. All that mattered was the fact that the clock was ticking and if she didn’t get to work she’d have a very upset birthday boy tomorrow.

  She squirted more soap on the sponge and scrubbed harder at the bowl in her hand.

  “Let me help you,” Matt said, reaching for the sponge she was holding, his fingers grazing her skin and causing a flurry of sparks to ignite along her arm.

  After all this time his touch still set her ablaze. She ignored her burning skin and focused on the water, the bowl, anything to keep from looking at him.

  “Give me the sponge,” he said, his voice low and demanding.

  The only reason he was offering was because he felt bad. She didn’t need his help, and she damn well didn’t need his pity either. She started this bakery from the ground up with little to no help. She could handle a few dishes.

  “I have it. You should go. I’m sure you have speeders to catch and a town to keep safe. I don’t need you cleaning up my mess.”

  He didn’t step away. His hand tightened on the sponge until she let go of it. She looked up, catching those gorgeous eyes of his. Her body betrayed her, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth as she lost herself in his gaze.

  “I’m not asking.” His tone was commanding and insisting, but she knew him. Or at least she once did. Despite everything, he was kind. It was all he knew. He was raised to be a gentleman, a quality so rare in the men she dated since him. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to have a man offer his help without expecting anything in return.

  There was no denying that Matt Hayes was a good man, but he was also a living, breathing reminder of the mistake she made—walking away from him so many years ago. They had been teenagers, but she’d loved him with every fiber of her being.

  Every guy she dated since then had fallen short…not just short, oh no, a football field length short of ever living up to Matt and the connection they’d shared.

  No guy turned her body to liquid heat the way Matt did from only a single look. Or ignited an explosion of fireworks up her arms and straight to her core from a simple touch. And no guy could ever make her feel like she was the most beautiful girl in the world—even after falling in a murky creek—like he did.

  Their summer together was so long ago, yet the memories were burned so vividly in her mind it was as if she could still smell the basil growing on his parents’ farm, feel his hands roaming up and down her body, his lips pressing hungrily against her own as they made out behind the tractor, trying to hide from his three sisters and two brothers.

  Memories—that’s all they were, she reminded herself as she grabbed a rag and started wiping down the counters. Anything so she didn’t have to look at him and get sucked into that intense gaze again.

  “Rub any harder and you might just put a hole in it,” he said a few moments later, snapping her out of her head and back to reality. She looked down at the stainless-steel counter that shined as brightly as polished silver.

  “You sure you’re okay?” His voice like silk wrapped around her in a warm caress.

  She forced a smile, even though she wasn’t feeling very chipper at the moment and lied. “I’m fine.”

  “‘I’m fine’ as in you are fine? Or ‘I’m fine’ as in ‘I’m not fine but I’m going to say I am so I don’t have to talk about it?’”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “Remember I have three sisters. I know when I’m being blown off.”

  He shut the water off and turned toward her, resting his backside against the sink. The muscles in his arms pressed firmly against the tan sleeves of his uniform as he crossed them over his chest. She swallowed down the desire the movement stirred inside her.

  She forced her eyes away from his biceps, fully aware that she’d been staring and staring hard. She only hoped she wasn’t slack-jawed and drooling. If she hoped his expression would key her in, she was sadly mistaken. A knowing smirk flitted across his mouth, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

  Refusing to play into his boyish charms, she continued scrubbing the counter. “I’m not blowing you off,” she finally managed.

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  They spent the next hour working side by side in silence until her kitchen was finally back to normal.

  “Let me walk you out,” Matt said, tossing a towel onto the edge of the sink. He had shed his top shirt at one point, and was down to a white undershirt, that only managed to accent his hard muscles even more. She swore he did it on purpose after seeing how crossed arms got her all hot and bothered. He scooped up said shirt and pivoted toward her.

  “You go,” she said, tying her hot pink apron with white polka dots and black frilly trim around her waist. “I have five dozen cupcakes I have to make.”

  “Now?” Matt glanced over to the vintage cupcake clock. “It’s after eleven.”

  “And Tommy Kramer will be six years old tomorrow, and he’s expecting five dozen dinosaur themed cupcakes.

  “You still have plenty of cupcakes in the case up front. Tell his parents what happened. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

  “I can’t let him down.”

  “He’s six. He’ll get over it.”

  “Six or sixty-six, he’s still my customer, and I always aim to please. I will accept nothing less.”

  “You’re a good person, Shay.”

  A slight smile lifted at the corner of her mouth. Maybe she was then and now, but it didn’t make up for the in between years when she wasn’t. “Thanks for coming down here. Sorry to have wasted your time.”

  He stepped toward her, his gaze dark and serious. “Any time with you is not wasted.”

  She tried to ignore the butterflies taking flight in her stomach, swirling around in a joyous frenzy. Afraid she was blushing, she let her hair fall forward, creating a curtain to hide behind.

  “I should get started,” Shay said and hurried over to the cabinets, pulling down the sugar and flour. It was late, and she was bone-dead tired, but once she started mixing ingredients, she’d come alive just like she always did.

  Matt slapped his hands down on the counter, startling the ever-living hell out of her.

  “What do you need me to do?” he asked, taking the containers out of her hand and placing them on the counter.

  Her eyebrows pulled down. “What?”

  “We have five dozen cupcakes to m
ake, don’t we?”

  “We?”

  “Did you honestly think I would bail on you?”

  “You’ve already spent so much time here. Don’t you have to get back to the station?”

  “Shift’s over.”

  “You’re the Sheriff. Your shift is never over.”

  “I have my phone on me in case of emergency.”

  “But you’re probably tired. You should go home and get some sleep.”

  “Are you going to stand here all night trying to get rid of me, or are you going to give me something to do?”

  He was always a straight to the point kind of guy—something she’d appreciated. No bullshit, no beating around the bush… It was refreshing.

  She gave him a sassy tilt of her head. “You know how to crack an egg?”

  “I think I can manage.”

  She slid a bowl across the counter to him. “In the fridge, top shelf.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  She might not have been that girl anymore, but right now she was a girl in need, and she would take the help he was willing to give.

  Besides, it was just baking. It’s not like he was going to scoop her up and have his way with her on top of the fondant.

  ~End of Excerpt~

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