1
SAVAGE
I stoodoutside Becca’s house, my stomach churning with the knowledge of what I was about to do. I’d been awake for hours, gone for a punishing run, showered, dressed, and hopped on a ferry before the sun was even up. Now the manila envelope in my hand felt like it was a fucking explosive as I held it and waited for this fiery little blonde baker to open the door.
Hopefully I’d caught her before she and Scarlett began baking for the day. She’d said things got going early, but I hadn’t thought to ask exactlyhowearly. By the scent of melted butter and sugar filling the air, I was clearly too late.
I rang the doorbell, hoping she’d answer and I wouldn’t have to deal with her wide-eyed sister. But no one came to the door.
“Bloody fucking hell,” I muttered as I adjusted my cap and zipped my jacket to my chin. It was baltic this morning without my cold weather running gear on.
I banged on the door, calling out, “Becca, let me in, lass. I’m freezing my bollocks off out here.”
Something hit me in the back of the head, making me spin around to find the culprit. There she was, the one who got away. More like the one who never gave me a fair shake at winning her.
Becca Barnes stood behind me with a yellow apron tied around her front, her hair in a bun atop her head, and flour streaking one cheek. She also had a wad of dough in her tiny wee fist.
“Did you just assault me with... cookie dough, lass?”
“Yeah, I did. What are you going to do about it, Taylor?”
“That’s a real waste. I thought you were meant to be a baker. Bakers... bake, don’t they?”
She cocked her hip and lifted her chin defiantly. “Normally, yes, we do. This morning is an exception. What are you doing here?”
“I needed to see you.”
“Why? We’ve said everything we need to say.”
“No, we haven’t.”
“You could have texted me.”
“Aye, but then you’d have been able to ignore me.”
Her gaze traveled my body until she stopped on the envelope in my hands. “Oh God. Are you suing me for some bullshit reason? Taylor, I can’t afford to be sued. I’m barely keeping things going as it is.”
“No, I’m not suing you. Why would I be suing you?”
Her shoulders loosened and she looked relieved. “Then why are you here?”
“Can we go inside? I’m fucking frozen.”
She rewarded me with an expression that said I was full of shit. “You’re a hockey player. It’s thirty-five degrees out here. Don’t you have, like, superhuman powers of cold deflection?”
“While I love that you think I’m a superhero—”
“Villain.”
“I’m not dressed like a hockey player. I still get cold. Besides, if memory serves, you like a bad boy.”
Her cheeks went pink, and she huffed out a breath. I could see it in the air, a little puff of annoyance at herself for her reaction to me. This could work. This might be the in I needed.
“Let me in, lass. I need to ask you something.”
She sighed. “Fine. I was about to take a coffee break anyway. Follow me.”
We walked around the little house until we reached a converted garage, complete with a bakery truck with a logo splashed across the side that readBSB Bakery.The delicious scent of baked goods was stronger over here, and my stomach growled.