3
Holt’s skin prickled with anticipation. It was nearly go time.
“Menu board?” Holt asked.
Brax slid the sign with the day’s offerings and prices scrawled in block print onto the hooks on the side wall. “Locked and loaded.”
“POS system?”
Jonah stabbed a few buttons, causing the cash register drawer to pop out. He shoved it back in. “Up and running and full of change.”
Holt bent to slide the last tray of blueberry muffins into the display case that stood on the site of the original scarred wooden bar. The streusel topping glittered like edible diamonds. They looked good beside the orange cranberry scones and the apple cinnamon oatmeal bars. Brax had filled the other side of the case with gleaming, buttery pastries. The shelves on the wall behind them were loaded with baskets full of Jonah’s boules and baguettes. It wasn’t the full array of what they’d be offering, but it was a good start to begin testing their market and seeing what would sell.
He looked around the bakery in satisfaction. Beyond the counter sat a half dozen four-top tables they’d built themselves from reclaimed pallet board. More seating was available on stools beneath the narrow counter ledge wrapping three walls of the front. Large picture windows had been put in on the left and right, giving a view to the mountains beyond and a glimpse of the porch that wrapped around three sides and provided more seating.
No one who hadn’t seen it before would realize that the building had once housed The Right Attitude, the sketchy-beyond-belief bar that had been owned by Jonah’s late father. Mia had done one hell of a job on the renovation. Holt loved the rustic industrial vibe she’d given them. The shiplap walls and iron accents lent a masculine feel to what otherwise might have been an unnecessarily feminine space. But there was no mistaking that this was a place of men.
Each of them wore one of the custom t-shirts they’d had designed with the company logo, a military-style shield with a whisk and rolling pin crossed like swords to honor where they’d come from.
Jonah, usually the most optimistic of their trio, cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders in a rare betrayal of nerves.
“You okay, brother?” Holt asked.
He braced his hands on the counter and let out a long, slow breath. “What if they don’t come? What if I dragged you both down here, and we all invested all this money in this place, and they don’t come?”
“They’re gonna come,” Brax insisted.
“But what if we didn’t do enough?”
Holt laid a hand on Jonah’s shoulder and squeezed. “That’s what all this is for. The word went out on social media about the soft opening. Cayla saw to that. It’s spinning around town. This is just a test to try out different recipes, see how things go over. If it doesn’t work well, we’ve got time to adjust before the official opening.”
He sucked in another breath and nodded. “Okay. We can at least count on my mama and her friends for sure. That will probably make a decent dent in today, even if nobody else shows up.”
“Then let’s do this thing,” Brax insisted.
They all bumped knuckles, and Holt went to unlock the heavy front door.
People were everywhere. The parking lot was already nearly full, with more vehicles pulling in. A line of customers snaked through the cars, with people chatting in clusters, enjoying the gorgeous spring weather while they waited. He recognized some of the deputies from the Sheriff’s Department, along with a few of the other military vets he’d met since coming to town. But there were more, so many more. And the women. They made up the lion’s share of the crowd. Evidently, the whole Bad Boy Bakers thing really did hit that target audience.
“Holy shit,” he muttered.
Mia and her crew were the first to notice the open door. She let out a two-fingered whistle and waved them forward. “Morning, Holt. Hope you guys baked a lot because we showed up starving.”
He stepped back and people streamed in, the babble of their voices echoing off the wood and filling the building with life. They were officially open for business. Taking a position behind the counter, he found himself across from Brick Hooper, Mia’s foreman.
Short and thick, with warm, sepia skin and close-cropped black hair, Brick’s gaze was hopeful as he scanned the case. “I was hopin’ y’all’d have some of those sourdough breakfast sandwiches y’all brought to the job site.”
“Not today, unfortunately, but they are still on the menu for consideration when we get fully up and running. If you’re feeling something savory, why don’t you try these sausage and cheddar hand pies?”
“I do like sausage. Let me have one of those and one of those bar things as somethin’ sweet for later.”
“You got it.” He bagged up Brick’s order and rang him up before circling back to the other end of the display cases to do it all over again.
Spotting Jonah’s mother, Rebecca, on the other side, he broke into a grin. “Hey, Mama Ferguson. What can we get you this morning?”
She beamed back at him. “The way to my heart today is muffins. I’ll take four. I promised Candice I’d bring something back to the shop since she couldn’t get away. But I had to come check on my boys.”
“We sure appreciate it.”
They didn’t yet have the boxes they’d ordered. Holt made a mental note to check on that when things slowed down and carefully loaded the muffins into two bags so they wouldn’t get squashed. She paid for her purchase and slipped around the counter to give all three of them big hugs before disappearing.
Customers kept coming. He’d helped a dozen before he realized he was looking down the queue for a familiar blonde head. With all the work Cayla had done helping them get the word out, he figured she’d be one of the first to show up. That little pang he felt at not seeing her wasn’t disappointment. It was just indigestion. Or something.
But a different familiar face stood out in the throng. Holt recognized the woman as one of the friends Cayla had been out with at karaoke night. Tall and slim, with skin the shade of warm, rich caramel and a riot of red-brown curls, she had her hand linked with another woman with fair cheeks and a short cap of brown hair that reminded him of Audrey Hepburn.
As they reached the front of the line, her bright white smile widened. “Well, if it isn’t the king of karaoke.”
“I see my reputation precedes me. I remember seeing you there that night, but I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”
“I’m Astrid Corneau, and this is Lena.”
“Nice to meet you, ladies. I’m Holt Steele. What can I get you?”
“A blueberry muffin for me, one of those gorgeous scones for my wife, and the inside scoop on when you’re gonna ask our girl Cayla out.”
Holt went brows up. “Come again?”
“Oh, don’t play coy. We all saw you two up there.”
He was grateful for all the training he had on resisting interrogation. It kept him from dropping his mouth open like an idiot fish. But really, what did he expect? He’d flirted with her on stage, in front of probably half the town. Of course they’d assume he was interested. And he was. He was just… still trying to talk himself out of it. Not that he was having the slightest bit of luck on that front, and his actions certainly hadn’t done a thing to dispel the idea that he was into her.
“Well, now, I don’t sing and tell.” As Astrid and Lena laughed, he bagged up their order and rang them up.
“We’re keeping an eye on you, Sergeant Studly.”
“Noted.” Holt counted himself lucky when they left without further comment. But his relief was short-lived because yet another of the bachelorette party crew was next in line.
Zara, the ballsy-as-hell matchmaker who’d asked him to sing with Cayla, stepped up with a wide smile.
“Hey Zara. Can I recommend a chocolate croissant?”
“Already out,” Brax put in.
“Oh.” Holt glanced down at the display cases, which were looking pretty sparse. “What about an apple cinnamon oatmeal bar?”
“Yes, please.”
He added one to a bag. “Anything else?”
“One of those baguettes and a promise that you’ll come back to karaoke night next month. It’s so much more fun when people who can actually sing get up there.”
“Thanks. We’ll see.”
Her smile turned sly. “I can promise to drag Cayla out to sing with you.”
“She might not want to be dragged.” After what she’d told him about her ex, he wasn’t about to be pushing her into anything. Especially when he didn’t know what he wanted himself. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He wanted her. But he wasn’t looking for more than that. He was still getting his new life together. So was she. A casual affair or friends with benefits didn’t fit into the life of the kind of single mom she was. He respected that. So he’d be her friend. That was all.
“Oh, I don’t think it would take that much convincing,” Zara opined.
Rather than reply, Holt gave her the total. She just shot him a knowing smile and took her breakfast.
The morning rolled on, but Cayla didn’t show. He couldn’t help but wonder where she was. She probably had a client meeting or had to make a trip to a vendor. As the crowd finally began to thin enough that they could breathe, he stepped outside under the auspices of getting a little fresh air. If he happened to glance across the street to see if her car was at the office, well, it was in front of his face, wasn’t it? The Camry was parked in front of the little porch. She was probably busy. Maybe he’d just take a little something over. If there was anything left.