Page 48 of Rogue's Path

The house might look old, but there isn’t a single creak as we step onto the porch. All around the porch in little vignettes are groupings of furniture covered in florals and lace with doilies under vases full of what looks like real flowers and other knick-knacks.

We step into another world upon entering her house. Smooth woods, old rugs, and antiques fill each room that we walk through.

Cordelia stops by a cabinet. “You can leave your bags here. The dumbwaiter will take them upstairs.”

Dumbwaiter?

She opens the cabinet, which isn’t really a cabinet. It’s a façade for a dumbwaiter that’s big enough to be a small elevator.

The shelves inside fold up, and all my bags fit.

She closes the cabinet. “This way is the kitchen.”

Cordelia runs a business cooking in this house? It’s impossible to think of it ever getting messy.

She could be one of those people who keep everything spotless.

“Is that a wood-burning stove?”

“Sure is. I only cook with it in the winter, but it was too lovely to walk away from.”

But there isn’t another stove in the room. “How is that possible?”

“They’re quite safe and easy to use. They might not have any modern conveniences, but I assure you they were well designed.”

“What I mean is, where are the cakes?”

“Oh.” She grins. “Follow me.”

Off the pantry, which is stocked with enough food to feed a small army, there’s a set of stairs.

The scents wafting up the stairs are indescribably delightful. It’s like a bakery met a fruit stand. At the bottom of the stairs, yet another new world starts. The modern space is filled with rows of industrial mixers, rolling shelves, basically everything needed to run a medium-sized bakery. But what sets it apart from the ugly feel of most commercial spaces are the hot pink tiles, white marble and steel counters, and white leather stools with so much padding you could probably sit on them for hours.

It’s like two totally different people live in this space.

Who is Cordelia? An unmarried trad wife or a wild baker?

****

Even though I had barely arrived at Cordelia’s house, I had to rush out to go to Ivy Café. This wild addiction to kissing Rogue is getting out of hand.

But I don’t know how to control it.

As soon as I get my laptop open, my phone rings.

Taylor! “Hello.”

“Sorry it took so long for me to call.”

So long? It feels like a minute ago that we talked last. “You sound like you’re far away.”

“That’s because I’m on the other side of the world in a remote village. The satellite I’m bouncing off of isn’t ideally located, so we might get disconnected at anytime.”

Tell him. Ask him for help. He’s the security guy. “How was your trip?”

“Uneventful so far.” You can practically feel the pout in his voice.

That’s such a little boy thing to do. “Disappointed?”