7
A dull throb pulsed behind my eyes as I flipped the sign in my shop window. The memory of last night’s wine hit harder than the hangover. My lips still tingled from where they’d pressed against Dominic’s. The ghost of his broad chest against mine, that intoxicating blend of pine and spice...
“Pull yourself together.” I fumbled with my keys, nearly dropping them.
Fresh air. That’s what I needed. And maybe one of Rosie’s blackberry scones to settle my stomach. The cobblestones clicked under my boots as I crossed the street toward the warm glow of Wilson’s Bakery. Each step sent little jolts through my skull, but the morning chill helped clear my head.
Not clear enough to banish the phantom pressure of those strong hands at my waist. Or the way his steel-gray eyes had softened just before?—
My boot caught on an uneven cobble. I stumbled, but managed to catch my balance before crashing onto my face. Right. Scones. Focus on scones.
I pushed open the door to Wilson’s Bakery, the familiar jingle of bells announcing my arrival. Fresh bread and cinnamon scented the air, teasing my senses.
“Morning, Rosie,” I called out, scanning the shop.
The morning sun streamed through the display window, casting long shadows across the empty pastry cases where freshly baked scones and danishes should have tempted early customers. Rosie stood behind the counter, her usually flour-dusted apron pristine and starched. Her hands, typically busy kneading dough or frosting pastries, lay motionless on the countertop. Dark circles shadowed her eyes. She looked tired, as if she hadn’t slept.
“Good morning, dear,” she replied, her voice lacking its usual warmth. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m afraid I got a late start this morning. I do have a batch of muffins about to come out of the oven.”
I frowned. Since the vandalism, Rosie hadn’t been her usual self, but this... this was different.
“Everything alright?” I leaned against the counter, studying her face. “How are things holding up?”
Rosie’s gaze flickered to the window, then back to me. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, shaking her head. Her shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of her worries visible in the lines around her eyes. “Oh, you know. I’m managing.”
But something in her tone told me she was lying. “Rosie,” I said gently, “is everything okay?”
She hesitated, then sighed heavily. “I suppose there’s no use hiding it from you, Leo. The truth is, I’ve been struggling for a while now. Even before the vandalism.”
My heart sank. “Financially?”
Rosie nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “The rising costs, the new health food craze... it’s been hard to keep up. I’ve been dipping into my savings just to keep the doors open.”
A cold tendril of suspicion coiled in my gut. Could Rosie have orchestrated the vandalism for insurance money? The thought felt like a betrayal, but I couldn’t ignore the possibility.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.
“Pride, I suppose,” she admitted. “And hope. I kept thinking things would turn around.”
The weight of Rosie’s confession hung heavy in the air. My mind raced, trying to reconcile the warm, motherly figure I’d known all my life with this desperate woman before me. Rosie had a potential motive for the vandalism, but it felt wrong. The Rosie I knew would never resort to such tactics... would she?
“Rosie,” I began, choosing my words carefully. “I wish you’d confided in me sooner.”
She dabbed at her eyes with her apron. “Oh, Leo. You’ve got your own troubles. I couldn’t burden you with mine.”
She signed. “You’ve got such a big heart, Leo. Just like your grandfather. You’d give someone the shirt off your back without thinking twice. Just look at you now—you’ve been dropping everything to help.”
I reached across the table, grasping her weathered hand in mine. The skin was rough from years of kneading dough. “That’s what friends are for. There must be something I can do?”
“Sweet boy.” She patted my hand. “You’ve already done more than enough.”
“Someone’s targeting you... specifically you. And I’m going to find out why.”
“Leo Sterling-Hart, don’t you dare put yourself in danger over this.” Rosie’s hand squeezed mine, her grip surprisingly strong for a woman her age.
“I’m already involved.” I corrected with a half-smile. “And I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”
I pushed open the door of The Hideaway Café, the bell’s familiar tinkle mixing with the aroma of fresh coffee and pastries. My steps faltered when I spotted Penny in our usual corner booth. That grin. That damned shit-eating grin stretched across his face meant trouble. He practically vibrated in his seat, pink curls bouncing with barely contained excitement.
News traveled fast in the Historical District. I slid into the booth, bracing myself.
“So,” Penny leaned forward, eyes bright with mischief. “A little birdie told me someone was seen getting into a certain alpha’s silver Aston Martin yesterday.”
Blood rushed to my cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh please. You practically oozed chocolate when Mr. Steele took the podium at the meeting. And just now? Your scent spiked at the mere mention of his name.” Penny leaned toward me, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. “So spill… what’s going on with you and Mr. Tall, Dark, and Alpha?”
I cleared my throat, fumbling for my water glass. “We’re supposed to be solving a crime here.”
“Mhm. And I’m solving the mystery of why you’re suddenly so interested in corporate real estate practices.” Penny grinned. “I mean you even stormed into his office to interrogate him.”
“I didn’t storm.” I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t quite hide my smile.
My fingers traced the condensation on my glass, avoiding Penny’s knowing look. The memory of being pressed against Dominic, his pine and sandalwood scent overwhelming my senses, made my skin tingle. But I wasn’t ready to share that particular detail, even with my best friend. “Focus, please.”
“Very well.” Penny sighed dramatically. His fingers absently toyed with the lucky penny dangling from his necklace. “What about that cufflink you found?”
I hesitated, my hand instinctively reaching for the back of my neck. “About that... I might have... given it to Dominic.”
“You what?” His voice hit a pitch I didn’t know was possible.
“He offered to help trace its origin. Said he had connections.”
Penny’s eyes narrowed. “Leo Sterling-Hart, you handed over evidence to a suspect? And since when are we on a first name basis?”
“He’s not a suspect, I think,” I protested weakly. “He’s... helping.”
“Right. And I’m the King of England.” He shook his head, pink curls bouncing. “What were you thinking?”
I sighed, the weight of my decision settling on my shoulders. “I don’t know, Pen. There’s just something about him. I can’t shake the feeling he’s on our side.”
“Or he’s got you wrapped around his finger.” He paused, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Though I can’t say I blame you. Those eyes of his alone could melt steel.”
I felt heat creep up my neck. “Can we focus on the case, please?”
“Sure.” Penny’s grin was unapologetic.
“Rosie’s bakery is in trouble.” My fingers traced the worn edge of the booth’s table, following a groove worn smooth by decades of use.
Penny’s expression turned serious. “Wait! What?”
“The bank’s threatening foreclosure. She missed six payments already.” The rich flavor of coffee and blackberry scone couldn’t mask the sour taste those words left in my mouth. “If she can’t come up with thirty thousand in four months, she’ll lose Wilson’s.”
“Sweet heaven! Thirty thousand ?” Penny’s warm brown eyes clouded with worry. The scent of cotton candy and citrus turned slightly sour. “Did Rosie mention what’s causing her financial troubles?”
“No, nothing.” I pushed my half-eaten scone aside. “But something about it doesn’t sit right with me.”
Penny leaned forward. “You don’t think she’d actually...”
“No,” I cut in, shaking my head. I paused to drum my fingers against the table. “Jake acted strange when we spoke before the Town Hall meeting. And now, he’s disappeared without a trace...”
Penny shook his head. “Jake couldn’t vandalize a sandcastle. What about Minnie? That woman’s got more ambition than scruples.”
I nodded, thinking about how Minnie and Rosie had professionally butted heads for years. Minnie’s frustration had always been evident, stemming from Rosie’s consistent edge over her. Year after year, Rosie claimed the Millcrest Baker’s Award—a prize Minnie had set her sights on since day one of opening her bakery in town. “True. She’s been gunning for Rosie’s spot for years.”
“Let me get this straight—we’re looking at Rosie herself, Jake, Minnie, and Dominic Steele as potential culprits?” I watched as Penny ticked off each name on his fingers.
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed. A text from Dominic lit up the screen. My eyes widened as I read it.
“Speak of the devil,” I muttered, a hint of excitement creeping into my voice. “Dominic’s traced the cufflink to some fancy men’s store downtown. He wants to meet at his office in an hour.”
Penny’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, intrigue! Want me to come along? I could be your Watson.”
I chuckled, already standing up. “Not this time, my dear Watson. But I’ll fill you in later.”