Page 5 of Bad Boy Bakers, Vol. 2

Chapter Three

Cash woke long before dawn, his mind and arms full of Hadley.

He ought to have used the time to plan the best approach to talking to Holt.

Instead, he lay in the dark, breathing in her sleep-warmed scent, lingering in the feeling of absolute rightness, having her sprawled beside him.

Even the fact that she took up more than her half of the queen-sized bed made him smile.

She never questioned her right to be anywhere, ever.

That unapologetic nature was something he’d always loved about her.

So much of his own life had been spent fighting for his place.

Would Holt make him fight for his place with her?

And if it came down to it and Cash was forced to choose, which way would he go?

The idea of losing either of them cut him deep.

But it wasn’t a choice. Not really. He loved Holt as a brother, but he was in love with Hadley.

Of course, all that presupposed she chose him if given the same ultimatum.

Some men might make that call for her, simply walking away in some self-sacrificial gesture.

Even if he hadn’t known better—and he did—he was too selfish for that.

If there was a chance in hell Hadley would choose him, he was taking it.

And he’d spend the rest of their lives making sure she didn’t regret it.

As daylight crept across the foot of the bed, he carefully eased away from her.

She merely rolled into the warm spot he vacated, curling up like a cat.

Grinning to himself, he tugged on jeans and a sweater, running his hands through his hair.

They were on no schedule today, with nowhere to be.

He’d leave her sleeping. Slipping out of the room, he silently shut the door behind him.

A sound had him whipping toward the stairwell.

Ari Bohannon, the innkeepers’ daughter, stood by the window, one dark brow arched and a knowing smirk on her face.

Putting on his best bland nothing-to-see-here face, Cash strode toward the girl, nodding a greeting. Ari nodded back, barely swallowing a grin, before trotting down the stairs ahead of him.

Damn it. He should have made Hadley go to her own room last night.

But he’d missed her. Missed having her in his bed beside him, knowing she was close enough to take care of.

Not that she’d appreciate the sentiment.

She valued her independence and the fact that she could take care of herself.

With her history, she’d never want to be a burden on anyone.

But that wasn’t what this was. He just wanted to look out for her.

She wasn’t a morning person to begin with, and she’d been extra tired lately.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise. They’d essentially traded orgasms for good nights’ sleep for months.

But this seemed like more than that, and he was low-key worried about it.

Maybe she needed more iron. She was prone to living off pasta and not much else when she got busy at work.

When was the last time she’d had a physical?

As it was midweek and still early, no one else was in the dining room. Cash helped himself to the coffee laid out on a sideboard before settling at one of the tables by the window, his back to the corner. Some habits couldn’t be easily broken.

A tall, willowy blonde came in. “Good morning! You must be Cash. I’ve heard… well, honestly, not an enormous amount about you.”

Recognizing Jonah’s fiancée from the surveillance he’d done, he answered her smile. “That’s a calculated move. I’m a man of mystery. You must be Rachel. Congrats on the engagement.”

She beamed, happiness practically radiating out of every pore. “Thanks! Jonah and I are gearing up for a winter wedding to avoid the busy season at the bakery.”

Cash wondered what constituted the busy season for a bakery. “Seems sensible.”

“What are you in the mood for this morning?” She nodded toward a narrow folio tucked in the condiments.

“Those are our regular options. But since it’s just you, I can whip up something off-menu, if you like.

Eggs of some kind, if you’re not looking for something baked.

If you’re still here by the weekend, we’ll have the full Southern available. ”

“What exactly is that?”

“Biscuits and gravy, bacon or sausage, eggs, and grits.”

Knowing she was from upstate New York, Cash lifted a brow. “Can you actually cook a full Southern?”

Rachel dimpled. “I promise I’ve been taught by true Southerners how to make proper grits. And I’ve had biscuits in the bag for years.”

“Good to know. Could I get an omelet?”

“Sure thing. What would you like in it?”

“Meat, veggies, and cheese. I’m not fussy about what kind. Surprise me.”

“You’ve got it.” At the door, she turned back. “Does Holt know?”

“Does Holt know what?”

“About you and Hadley.”

Cash froze, the mug of coffee halfway to his mouth.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Evidently, Ari had shared what she saw in the kitchen.

“I’m not letting the cat out of the bag. I’m just confirming the status and whether I need to keep my mouth shut. Even from Jonah.”

Keeping that same bland expression in place, he settled back in his chair, as if he wasn’t secretly freaking out. “No, he doesn’t know. That’s why we’re here.”

Rachel nodded. “Understood.”

Only after she’d disappeared back to the kitchen did he release the breath caught in his chest. He didn’t like having any more people in the circle of knowledge before he had a chance to talk to his friend.

That meant more people who could inadvertently spill the beans. They really needed to get on this.

He was halfway through his cup of coffee when Hadley stumbled into the dining room, looking only half-conscious. Dropping down on the opposite side of the table, she folded her arms and put her head down with a bit of a whimper.

“Are you okay?” Dumb question. Clearly, she wasn’t.

“I don’t feel great. I was in a hurry to get down yesterday, and my lunch was a gas station hotdog. I’m thinking that was a grave mistake.”

Rachel swung through the door on the tail end of this explanation. “Oh, you poor thing. Can I get you some ginger ale? Some peppermint tea? Maybe a little oatmeal to settle your stomach?”

Hadley lifted her head, focusing on the other woman with heavy eyes. “That would be great. All the above, if possible.”

“I’ll be back in just a minute.”

Cash studied her closer, noting the puffiness beneath her eyes and the slightly wan cheeks. “Maybe you should go back to bed.”

That she didn’t snark back with something sexy proved she wasn’t herself.

“I’m sure I’ll feel better with food. Whatever this is just needs to work its way out of my system.”

Rachel returned with a tall glass of iced ginger ale and a steaming mug with the string of a tea bag hanging down the side.

“You are a goddess.” Hadley pounced on the ginger ale, gulping it down.

“I’ll have that oatmeal right out. Do you want it plain? With fruit? Maple brown sugar?”

“She likes cinnamon and apples.” The words were out before Cash could think better of them.

Hadley, now with her nose practically buried in the tea mug, offered a thumbs up.

“On it.”

When they were alone again, she curled her hands around the mug, studying him over the rim. “You know how I like my oatmeal.”

He shrugged. “You always stole the apple cinnamon from the multi-packs of instant when we were kids.”

Her lips curved. “It was your fault. You got me started on it. Before then, it was all Holt’s maple brown sugar. Finding out there were other flavors kind of blew my mind.”

Eating flavored oatmeal at all had been a luxury.

They’d all grown up in such poverty, it was a wonder they had any fond memories at all.

But she was at the center of so many of his.

A huge part of his mission in life back then had been to make her smile.

To distract her from her mom’s latest bender or the fighting with her latest beau.

And part of it had been diverting her with food, giving her the apple cinnamon oatmeal because she loved it, even though it was his favorite, too.

Rachel returned once more, a bowl and plate in her hands. She slid the oatmeal in front of Hadley and set a fluffy, golden omelet in front of him.

Cash couldn’t resist a sniff. “This smells amazing. Thank you.”

“Enjoy! And let me know if you need anything else.”

She disappeared, and Hadley took a testing bite, letting out a low moan that had Cash’s body stirring. “This is amazing. I wonder if I can sweet talk them out of the recipe.”

Jonah owed him a favor. If Rachel didn’t outright share it, he’d call it in.

Cash dug into his omelet, enjoying the blend of smoked ham, cheddar, onions, and peppers. “I was reading on the menu that most of the food is provided by Maxwell Organics, here in Eden’s Ridge.”

“Oh yeah. Logan Maxwell is married to Athena Reynolds. She’s one of the quartet of sisters who opened this place. Award-winning chef. Used to have some fancy restaurant in Chicago before coming back here. Now she’s got an online cooking show and a cookbook.”

Impressed with the summary, he arched a brow. “Where’d you get all that?”

Hadley spooned up more oatmeal. “Ari. She told me all about it on my previous stay.”

“So, she’s a talker.” He’d been afraid of that.

“A good-natured one. Why?”

“She knows where you spent the night last night. Hence, so does Rachel. Who offered assurances she’d keep her mouth shut.”

“It’ll be fine.” Unperturbed, Hadley kept eating her oatmeal.

The phone she’d set on the edge of the table vibrated with a text. She nodded toward it. “You wanna check that?”

Cash tipped the screen up to read the message. “It’s Cayla. There’s apparently gonna be a big group dinner with everybody tonight at six. Cookout with the whole bakery crew and their significant others.”

“Tell her we’ll be there.”

He went brows up. “You want me to answer for both of us? That’s a hell of a couply thing to do.”