Page 116 of Double Daddies (Dirty Daddies Anthologies #8)
Adam hadn’t taken the redistribution of his stuff well, hounding her to and from her way to work.
Calling her all hours of the day and night until she believed he wasn’t just angry about how things had ended, but devolving into stalkerish tendencies.
Blocking his number led to the discovery that he’d made a spare key of the one she’d given him; finding him in the apartment, confrontational and obnoxious, was the last straw.
She’d kicked him out a second time, fully dressed, and immediately asked for a lock change from the building supervisor.
Then she’d handed in her notice for the lease, accepted Evander’s offer, and started packing up her life into two halves; what she could take with her and what needed to go into storage.
For now, Serenity seemed like the safest place to be to regroup and assess her life.
She was now head baker, working alongside Allan the chef. She spent her mornings in the kitchen, baking her heart out before the restaurant team came in to prepare for the breakfast rush, and her afternoons boxing everything up to be dispersed around the club.
Complimentary baskets of her cookies were offered in the guest cabins on every turnover, while the gift shop and bar sold them to repeat customers. Her cakes were on display in the restaurant, served as dessert both in-house and with room service.
She was physically exhausted, but mentally and emotionally, she was thriving.
Stacey hadn’t forgiven her yet for leaving, but she’d understood that Avery’s circumstances had changed and she needed… more . Not just in her work, but her life.
Master Clay was doing his best to coax her to the dark side. He wanted to give her that more , recapitulating his offer to chaperone her if she felt like delving back into that mysterious place where her adult brain clicked off like a switch and the other side of her came out to play.
Out of all the Masters and Mistresses here, he was definitely one of the least intimidating.
Master Evander dominated with his size alone; his husband, Master Elias, simply radiated with a dark, sadistic edge despite being a nice man.
Master Grit was easy to talk to, as were Masters Liam and Maverick.
What Master Merrick had with his new sub-slash-wife was what Avery dreamed of having, even though his soft center was covered in a strict, dominant coating.
The Mistresses were another ballgame altogether.
After spending an hour with Violet—awkward in the beginning—on the drive home, Avery was pleased she’d made friends with the Southern Domme by the time they reached the city.
Violet was kind and patient, and her sense of humor was appealing. She gave advice without lecturing, helped Avery navigate the strange waters of the club so she didn’t drown in anxiety, and was an incredibly nice person in general.
Mistress Ericka was sharper, stricter, a little bit prickly for Avery’s liking. Her on-again, off-again partner, Mistress Felicity seemed to be good at her job, popular with the few Littles who were on site during the construction phase still going on at the far end of the property.
In the two weeks of Avery’s time there, a whole slew of new Masters and Mistresses had arrived. Most of them she hadn’t met, choosing to hide in the kitchen rather than socialize with a wall of dominance she wasn’t quite sure of yet.
Talking to strangers in a bakery was one thing.
Communicating with Dominants on their home turf was another.
Wrapping a basket with cellophane, Avery set it on the trolley with the others.
With the order complete, she wheeled it to the back door ready for one of the housekeepers to collect.
Because she knew they loved her cookies just as much as the guests, she added the plain white box full of treats that hadn’t met her rigorous standards to the stack.
It was a win-win-win situation in her mind.
The cookies didn’t go to waste, the housekeepers got a small reward for their hard work, and she’d made a whole team of allies in a very important sector of the club.
“Avery?” Allan popped his head around the doorway. “Busy as always.”
She smiled at the older man, genuinely liking him. He never made her feel uncomfortable or unsafe, even at four in the morning when it was just the two of them alone in the kitchen. “Hey. Lunch rush over?”
“Just. Not much of a rush though; I’ll be glad when the masses are back.” He tilted his head. “Liam’s asked if he can order another couple boxes of cookies for the bar. Chocolate chip, double chocolate, and the hazelnut crème ones you were playing with yesterday.”
Pride swelled in her chest. She had freedom to play with her creativity here without feeling like she was overstepping her bounds under Stacey’s watch.
Wakey Bakey was her friend’s masterpiece, along with all the recipes; Avery had just been an extra set of hands in the kitchen and on the service counter.
Here, she was the artist, and surprisingly, she’d discovered she had value. “Yeah, sure. I’ll box some up and take them over before I start the birthday girl’s cake.”
“I like how those boys spoil their wife. She deserves some love.” Allan frowned as someone shouted for him from the main kitchen. “If you want Petey to deliver those cookies, let me know.”
“Thanks, Allan.”
Avery reached for three more boxes, selecting a dozen of each of the requested treats from the rack and carefully presenting them on a sheet of tissue paper lining as her mind flicked over to the cake.
It was already baked and cooled, ready to assemble and decorate.
Sierra—resident stuffie restorer, wife and Little to Masters Liam and Mack—was celebrating her birthday on Sunday, just two days away, and her husband-Doms were planning a party, unbeknownst to her.
Avery felt honored to be included, especially in such an important manner. Being trusted with the cake meant a lot when she was just getting to know everyone, but then she had a feeling Clay might be responsible for that.
Humming to herself, she stacked the three boxes and cradled them carefully in her arms, leaving her lovely piece of seclusion to wind through the main kitchen where the team were cleaning up after lunch, and then made her way through the dining room to the hallway beyond.
She crossed over to the glass doors leading into the bar, where there were a handful of customers seated at various booths and tables.
Two couples, she noted absently, talking to each other as though nothing else existed but them.
A lone man nursing what appeared to be a beer at the bar, and another sitting in the back corner, his drink unidentifiable.
Master Liam was busy polishing glasses behind the bar, one eye on the TV screen on the side wall. When he glanced her way, his attention switched fully on to her, then the boxes she carried. “Perfect timing, Avery. I didn’t think you’d bring them so quickly.”
“I had a few minutes to spare.” Carefully, she set her precious cargo on the bar and nudged them toward him. “Choc chip, double choc, hazelnut crème.”
“Just what the Littles ordered.” His grin flashed through his beard.
Big, tall, and blond, Liam resembled a Viking warrior.
It was easy to imagine him in leather and bare skin, an axe in his hand and a shield strapped to his arm; she’d heard the subs at his last club had dubbed him the Viking Master.
“Elias is trialing a new daycare routine for the Littles. They should be leaving the Nursery in about ten minutes, which means it’s snack time, and they do love your cookies. ”
“I’m glad.” She was, truly, although a quick spurt of jealousy filled her veins.
Liam leaned closer, flicking his eyes toward the doors briefly, then pinning her in a beautifully earnest gray stare. “Have you started the cake yet?”
For some odd reason, heat prickled the back of her neck. She squirmed slightly, feeling as though eyes were on her from behind. “As soon as I get back to the kitchen, it’s next on my to-do list. The cakes are baked and ready to put together.”
“Raspberry and vanilla?”
“Yes, sir. Just as requested. Raspberry frosting, pink, for the inside.”
“Perfect. Are you sure we haven’t made the rest of it too difficult?”
The rest of it was covering the whole cake in green marzipan, creating a picnic area, making a teddy bear from Rice Krispies and melted marshmallows, and using whatever edible treats she could find to recreate one of Sierra’s beloved rescue stuffies.
Avery had been baking overtime this week to make sure her supplies for the club were well stocked over the weekend. She was planning on spending tonight, all day tomorrow, and possibly even Sunday morning in the kitchen, just to work on the cake.
“Just… don’t get your hopes up too high,” she cautioned, her mouth dry with nerves. “I mean, don’t expect it to be worthy of the cover of American Cake Decorating ?—”
Liam frowned and laid his hand over hers where she gripped the edge of the bar with white knuckles.
“Avery, relax. Whatever you make will be wonderful, trust me. Left to me and Mack, Sierra’s cake would pretty much be a pile of muffins with a candle stuck on the top.
We appreciate, very much, how much time and effort you’ve already put into doing this for us, for her. ”
She exhaled softly, releasing some of the panic trapped inside her chest like butterflies. “You really love her, don’t you?”
“She’s our everything.” Giving her hand a pat, he eased back. “Seriously, Avery, don’t worry over the cake. Sierra will love it, I promise.”
“Okay. I’d better get back to the kitchen…”
“Of course. Oh, Avery?” He called after her when she’d taken a few steps away.
“Yes, Master Liam?”
He grinned. “Master Clay extended an invitation to you for Monday’s Little daycare session. He’s on monitor duty so you’ll have a familiar face. Afternoon session starts at one, so be punctual. Dress casual. Have fun.”
“Oh, no, I can’t?—”