Page 2 of Bake You Mine (Port Fortune #1)

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Aubrey had to squeeze in a school pickup before getting the details behind Gary’s latest scheme. It should be more than enough time to get her shit together.

But hey, if Liam kept acting like a jackass, all the better. That stupid crush of hers would clear up like a rash.

She pulled up a half inch until she was bumper to bumper with the car ahead of her. At this time of day, cars looped out of the Port Fortune Middle School parking lot onto Ford’s Parkway, the main drag through the city.

When she’d met Liam, she’d been fresh off a divorce, her self-esteem at an all-time low.

Petit Chou had been open for roughly six months when Liam burst back into Port Fortune.

In the three years since he’d opened Elevation, Liam had become an outlet—a way for her anxious brain to focus those romantic feelings she didn’t have the energy to deal with.

Her divorce had wrecked her self-confidence.

Now, it’d been so long since she’d dated, the idea of downloading a dating app made her want to take a blow torch to her phone.

Besides running a business and being a single mom, who had time to date?

She was quiet, if polite, to Liam. Occasionally, they’d engage in chef shit-talking like they had this morning.

But generally, they were wave at the mailbox level acquaintances.

He’d probably gotten the vibe that she didn’t care for him, and she couldn’t blame him.

It was too late to walk that back. Which was probably for the best, as keeping him at arm’s length was easier than tripping over her tongue every time they talked.

She spotted Daphne in the crowd and opened the van’s door. Her twelve-year-old daughter hopped into the back seat. Daphne shared Aubrey’s dark hair, but that was where the similarities ended. She got her poor eyesight, height, and extroverted personality from her father.

“Hey, Daph, how was your day?”

Daphne flung her things onto the seat next to her. “Meh.”

“Meh? Who are you, Lisa Simpson?” Aubrey stretched back and patted Daphne’s leg.

Daphne sighed as she buckled herself in. “Last-minute homework assignment. I hate those.”

“You normally don’t mind homework.”

“Not when I thought I wouldn’t have any tonight!

” Usually an even-tempered kid, Daphne was frustrated more easily since she’d moved up a grade shortly after the start of the school year.

In seventh grade, she’d been bored; now, she was challenged.

It would take more than a few weeks for her to settle in.

Middle school was a nightmare as it was.

“I have something that might make you smile. A chocolate raspberry petite gateau.” Aubrey passed back a signature pink Petit Chou cake box with a wooden fork tucked into the top.

Daphne murmured thanks as she began to fuss with one of the folds on the box. “Did Dad talk to you about Myrtle Beach?”

Aubrey tried to keep her conversations with Chris, her ex-husband, strictly text-based. It wasn’t that she was hung up on the doofus. Keeping their communication to text messages was also handy for proving that he failed to fulfill his obligations.

“What about it?” She looked both ways and pulled out of the middle school parking lot onto Ford’s Parkway.

“He and Kayla rented a house there for Thanksgiving with her family. They want me to come.”

Kayla, the woman Chris had cheated on her with. At the time, Aubrey hated her. Now, she couldn’t help but be thankful since Chris wasn’t her problem anymore—except when he tried to press boundaries with their kid, which had started happening more frequently.

“I have you for Thanksgiving this year.”

Daphne let out a happy grunt as she bit into the gateau. “Yeah, I know. That’s why Dad needed to talk to you.”

Aubrey clenched and unclenched her jaw. She hated that Chris had dragged their kid into this. “What do you want, kiddo?”

She paused while she chewed. “I want to have Thanksgiving with you and Grandpapa. I already told Dad that, but he didn’t listen.”

Aubrey never once talked poorly to Daphne about her father. Now that she was older, her daughter came to her own conclusions, which saddened her, as Chris had once been a wonderful father.

“We have a while until we’ve got to worry about Thanksgiving, eh?”

Daphne nudged her glasses up her nose. “Mom, when are you going to meet someone new? You and Dad have been divorced for eons.”

She’d only dated a few times since the divorce, so her daughter was right on that front.

“You know I’m Mrs. Petit Chou. I don’t have time for anyone else in my life.”

It was a lie she held near and dear to her heart .

In the rearview mirror, she caught her kid giving her a skeptical glance.

It was a short drive from the school to the house Aubrey shared with her father.

Nestled on a hill overlooking the Rappahannock River, the old house was one of the prettiest in Port Fortune.

A grand Colonial with canary-yellow siding and jet-black shutters that set it apart from the neighboring houses.

It’d been in her father’s family for generations, but had sat empty for years while they’d moved around during her father’s career in the Marines.

Since he retired, he’d affectionately nicknamed it the money pit.

After the divorce, she and Daphne moved in.

She put the van into park in the circular drive and took the empty cake box from Daphne.

Her father stepped out onto the expansive wooden porch.

Springing out of the van, Daphne ran right for him and tackle-hugged him.

Being a retired Marine Officer, he’d worked a lot during Aubrey’s childhood, so he loved having them living with him now.

Without his help, she’d never have been able to open Petit Chou.

She exited the van to hand off Daphne’s book bag and the cake box to her father.

“You’re not staying? I made tea and scones.”

She tried to hide her smirk when she imagined her stern father puttering around the kitchen in a flowered apron with flour smeared on his cheek. He’d mellowed since retiring and the death of her mother.

“I have to get back for a meeting with Gary.”

“What is that wild man up to now? Do you think he’s decided what to do about the space?”

“Either that, or he’s found a new way to torture us. I get that it’s a big ask—taking two spaces and making them one. But if he wasn’t interested, he never should’ve entertained it when I brought up the idea. ”

That was another recent point of contention between Aubrey and Liam.

According to Gary, they’d both presented identical ideas to him within days of each other.

After all, it was a unique proposition for one of his tenants to tear down a wall and combine two spaces.

Although in his usual fashion, he “couldn’t remember” who’d come to him first. Liam swore it had to be him, but of course, he did.

She’d allowed herself to dream about what she could do with that space. As it was, they had to perform a sort of ballet to work around each other in the small kitchen space.

How could she take on more contracts when her space was already bursting at the seams?

She loved the idea of hiring a chef and running a full breakfast or lunch service, too.

Those dreams were beyond reach right now, but moving wasn’t viable, either.

Not when the patisserie’s future felt as delicate as a gossamer string.

She’d been in business for nearly four years, starting out of her kitchen and selling at the farmer’s market.

She’d hit so many milestones since opening her doors.

But the anxious fretting had yet to end.

She’d worked herself into a bit of a tizzy by the time she got downtown.

She parked her van in the alley behind Petit Chou. A box propped open the door to the space. Pushing her way inside, she found Liam and Gary in quiet conversation.

“The previous tenants did a nice job decorating. Shame their fusion cuisine was a bit too avant-garde to last for long,” Gary said. “Port Fortune may be a city, but it takes the trends a while to trickle down.”

The space was white and modern. It would match Petit Chou’s white-pink-gray aesthetic well. Unfortunately, it would also work with Elevation Eatery’s white-woodsy-modern look.

Aubrey cleared her throat .

Both men turned in unison. Gary broke into an easy smile. Liam’s gaze was more scrutinizing. He was scrumptious in his chef’s whites and a baggy pair of kitchen pants, although he probably looked positively delightful in a potato sack, too.

She exhaled and tried to keep her hopes level and her foolish heart firmly in her chest.

Every time Aubrey moved, her lopsided bun bobbled atop her head. It reminded Liam of one of those terrible aspic puddings he had to make during his time in London while under the tutelage of a pompous celebrity chef.

Aubrey changed out of her chef’s pinks and into a Washington Commanders hoodie and a pair of leggings. The hoodie was oversized, except that it stretched tight across her generous assets.

Liam cleared his throat. “Now that she’s here, can we get this over with? I have a dinner service to prepare for.”

“I have a few cakes to finish decorating before customer pickup,” Aubrey added in a clipped tone.

“Yes, yes, we’re all busy.” Gary clapped his hands together. “We had a city chamber of commerce meeting this morning. It was quite a boring affair, to be honest. Until the last five minutes.”

“Gary, for the love of God, please get to the point,” Liam groused.

Gary clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Fine. Tourism was the topic of the day. How to raise our profile as a regional destination. This could result in bringing in more tourist dollars into the city, along with investment for development.”

Aubrey palmed her face but said nothing as Gary continued .

“Long story short, we had an idea for a competition of sorts. Well, by we, I mean me , but I’m nothing if not generous.”