Authors: Andrea Laurence
“You dumb bastard,” Mack shouted, interrupting her thoughts as he charged toward them. She’d known Mack a long time and she’d never seen him look so angry before. His face was bright red and he was scowling. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.
Again.
You’ve still got your arm bandaged up from the last time.”
Pepper frowned at Mack and then turned to Grant. “What is he talking about?”
Grant smiled sheepishly. “I kinda ran into your house without any gear on and pulled you out of the fire.”
“Kinda?” Mack snorted with a reluctant smirk. “He did, straight up.”
“And what if I hadn’t?” Grant asked.
Pepper couldn’t imagine what would’ve happened if he hadn’t. She’d been sleeping on the couch just as she had been since the breakup. Two glasses of wine and emotional exhaustion had knocked her right out. She’d never heard a smoke alarm, although it wouldn’t surprise her if hers didn’t work, like so many other things in the house. She’d slept through the whole thing and would’ve likely died of smoke inhalation before the flames reached her. It made the loss of her house and belongings seem silly and insignificant. “You’re not even supposed to be back on duty yet.”
Grant shrugged. “Am I only supposed to save your life when I’m being paid to do it?”
There was no good answer to that, she supposed.
“From what we can tell, it started in the back bedroom,” Mack said. “My guess is that old wiring went bad. I got it working before, but we probably should’ve left it until we could rewire. Damn it.” Mack looked back at the smoldering remains of her house. “I’m sorry, Pepper.”
“It’s not your fault, Mack. You did what I asked you to do.”
He nodded and shook his head. “The good news is that it isn’t a total loss. The bedrooms and the bathroom are gone, but I’d say you can salvage the rest and rebuild it with the insurance money. It will take some time, but you can do it.”
That was something. She’d cling to that hope. “Thanks, Mack.”
“I’m going to get the guys packed up and out of here. You can’t go back into the house until the structural engineers from your insurance company clear the site as stable. Not even for your car keys or your cell phone,” he clarified. “Will you be okay? Do I need to call someone to come get you?”
Pepper opened her mouth to respond, but Grant beat her to it. “I’ll take care of it. She’s going back to my place.”
Mack nodded and walked away, leaving Pepper at a bit of a loss.
“Why would I go to your place?”
Grant looked at her with a serious expression. “Because that’s where you live now.”
A twitter of nervous laughter rose up in her throat. “Don’t be silly, Grant. We’re not even dating anymore. You don’t have to take me in like some refugee. If you can take me to Miss Twila’s, I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not taking you in like a refugee and I’m certainly not dumping you at the bed-and-breakfast. I’m asking you to marry me and move into my place until our renovated house is ready.”
Pepper sputtered at his sudden declaration. “W-what a-are you talking about?”
Grant sat down beside her on the bumper of the ambulance. “I’m sorry about before. I shouldn’t have pushed you about what was going on. I respect your decision to keep quiet about it. But,” he added, “I’m not going to let you use it as an excuse to push me away.”
“I didn’t—” she started but he held up his hand.
“I know everything, Pepper. I had a nice, long chat with your father and he explained the whole situation to me. All of it,” he said with emphasis. “I understand why your brother wouldn’t be my biggest fan, but I’m going to work on that. I’m not going to tell my family—like you, it’s not my place, but I’m going to extend an olive branch. If he chooses to accept it, we’ll start over and try to build our own relationship. But that’s got nothing to do with you and me.”
Pepper wasn’t sure if it was the lack of oxygen due to the smoke inhalation or if she was just having trouble following everything Grant had to say. She’d heard the words “marry” and “move into my place” mixed in among a lot of words about Logan and their families.
“Are you okay?” Grant asked with concern lining his sooty face.
“I think I might be in shock.”
Grant pulled a flashlight out of the nearby case and flashed it in her eyes. “Your pupils look okay. Are you cold?”
“No. I’m just having a really hard time trying to follow what you’re saying.”
Grant smiled and took her hand in his. “I’ll make it really easy. I’ve asked your father for permission to propose to you. I hadn’t intended to do it tonight, so I don’t have a ring or a fancy proposal scripted out, but I’m going to say this anyway. I love you, Pepper. You’re the first woman in my whole life who gave me focus and meaning. You challenge me, irritate me, and motivate me to be a better man. I want to spend every day of the rest of our lives together.
“Earlier tonight, I was sitting home alone and I heard the call for the fire department. My heart leapt into my throat. I rushed here, praying to God I hadn’t lost my opportunity to tell you how I felt. Now that you’re here, and safe, I’m not going to let someone else’s secrets get in the way of our chance at happiness together. I want you to move in with me. I want us to rebuild your house and make it into a real home where you and I can live and start our lives together. Pepper, will you marry me?”
Pepper gasped as she listened to him speak. She followed every word and yet she could barely believe she was hearing them. This whole night was so surreal. She hadn’t quite come to terms with the idea of losing almost every single thing she owned. Of being temporarily homeless. Of nearly dying. So many things were flying at her so quickly, she didn’t know what to do or think about it all. But she knew one thing for certain—she wanted to say yes with every ounce of energy she had left in her.
She brought her hand up to his face, caressing the stubble of his cheek. Pepper thought she might never get to touch him like this again. “Yes,” she said.
Grant’s nervous expression melted away into a wide grin. “Yes?”
Pepper nodded and Grant scooped her up into his arms. She fell into him, feeling safe in his embrace for the first time since she woke up on her neighbor’s lawn. His lips met hers, gently sealing their agreement more officially than any ring could do.
When they pulled apart, she looked up at him and smiled. “I love you,” she said for the very first time.
“I love you, too,” he responded.
“I’ve never said that to anyone before.”
Grant grinned wide. “Good. I don’t want you to say it to anyone else, ever.” He took her left hand and brought it up to his lips. He kissed her bare ring finger. “We’re going to get you a ring tomorrow,” he promised.
Pepper chuckled, shaking her head. “I think we should start a little smaller.”
His brow drew together in confusion. “Smaller?”
“Yes. I’d love an engagement ring, but I’d also like shoes. And pants. A couple pairs of panties and a toothbrush. We can work our way up to diamonds, but we’ve got a lot of other things to buy first.”
Grant nodded. “Absolutely. We’ll get you everything you want. I’ll take you down to the insurance agent first thing in the morning.”
“In the meantime, I’ve got a little money,” she said. “Some little birdie refunded the four thousand dollars I paid for you.”
Grant looked a little stunned. “Did you ask for a refund?”
Pepper shook her head. “Not at all. I’d pay it again. Your grandmother can drop ice water on me any day.”
He took her hand and helped her up. Looking down at her feet, he frowned. “No shoes. I guess we have no choice but to go with the cliché fairy-tale ending to the night.”
Pepper looked at him in confusion, but before she could say a word, Grant swept her up into his arms. She cried out in surprise, quickly clinging to his neck. “You’re going to hurt your arm.”
“I can’t feel a thing other than how much I love you, Pepper.”
Pepper hugged him and rested her head on his shoulder as he carried them through the obstacle course of hoses and equipment to his truck.
“She said yes!” he shouted to the other firemen milling around as he walked by.
“Good for you!” someone shouted, quickly followed by “yes to what?”
Grant didn’t answer right away. He carried her over to his truck, not setting her down until he had to open the door. He helped her inside and leaned in to give her a kiss. “Yes to forever,” he said softly as their lips parted.
Yes to forever.
Don’t want to leave Rosewood just yet?
Keep reading for a sneak peek at Maddie’s story,
Stirring Up Trouble
the next book in the Rosewood series.
Coming fall 2015 from Pocket Star Books!
Chapter One
“Now, those are some nice-looking buns.”
Madelyn Chamberlain looked up in time to see Emmett Sawyer walk past the front of her bakery. He was up early for a night owl, but as always, the shaggy, laid-back owner of Woody’s, the local bar, was looking casually delicious. He managed to make a simple T-shirt and jeans look sexy. Of course, it helped that his well-worn jeans fit him like they were custom-made. “They sure are,” she muttered to herself.
“Maddie, do these have nuts in them?”
Emmett disappeared from view and Maddie turned to look at Miss Dotty as she perused the bakery case. Apparently Miss Dotty had been referring to the honey buns, not Emmett’s fine ass. “No nuts. If you want nuts, get the sticky buns instead. They have toasted, candied pecans.”
“Oooh . . . sticky buns.” Miss Dotty moved down to the next case and got engrossed in the daily selections.
Maddie was always dumbfounded by the customers who came in and stared at the choices as though they weren’t the same every day. When she bought Rosewood Bakery from the late owner’s daughter, Maddie had worked with her father to put together a solid business plan. Part of that was being smart about supplies and offerings. When she reopened as Madelyn’s Bakery & Tea House, she decided she wanted to serve a standard set of baked goods available on a regular basis. Each day, she featured one special item. That was in addition to any special orders.
It had worked well for her so far. Some people came in and got the same treat for breakfast or dessert every day. Others came in the same day each week for their favorite special. She normally sold out of white chocolate raspberry cheesecake bars by noon every Wednesday.
Miss Dotty was one of her daily visitors. She had a sweet tooth and no desire to actually bake any longer. Since she’d had a stroke, it was probably just as well. Her mind was a little scattered anymore and she’d probably burn her house down if she tried to bake something. Each day, the older woman would wander into the shop and stare intently at the bakery case. She typically spent upward of fifteen minutes in the shop, and no matter how many questions she asked and how many times she eyed other items, she left with a cinnamon roll, without fail.
“You know, I think today I’ll just take a cinnamon roll,” Dotty decided.
Maddie smothered a smug grin. “Sure thing.” She slid the back of the case open and pulled out a cinnamon roll. She already had a small pastry box ready to go. She met Miss Dotty down by the register. “That’s three fifty.”
Miss Dotty fussed in her purse for a few minutes and then finally pulled out a few rumpled bills. There seemed to be an endless supply of wadded-up bills in the bottom of Miss Dotty’s purse. It was a leather Coach bag, so surely Miss Dotty could afford a wallet, but it seemed that everything just gathered in the bottom of the purse: a stockpile of tissues, pennies, receipts, and stray dollar bills.
Maddie was handing back her change when her soon-to-be sister-in-law Pepper Anthony came into the bakery. Pepper worked at the hair salon next door.
“Morning,” she said, moving past Maddie and Miss Dotty to peruse the case.
Although they were on the verge of being family, Pepper and Maddie were not close. According to her brother Grant, Pepper’s fiancé, it was because Maddie was a stuck-up brat. Maddie resented that. She had high standards and she held everyone—herself included—to those standards. Some people just didn’t make the cut. She felt no reason to play nice with people she didn’t have an interest in.
Of course, now those people were her customers and some of them would soon be members of the Chamberlain family. Grant had told her that if she was going to run a successful bakery, she needed to be nice to everyone. And she was trying. But it was hard. For all the grief she got from people for being mean to them, she’d had her fair share of mistreatment from others. Being a young, single daughter of the great Chamberlain family had made her a target for gold diggers and haters alike.
“Hey, Pepper,” Miss Dotty said as she dumped her change into her purse and scooped up her cinnamon roll box. “Do you have any openings this week?”
Pepper’s brow drew together in thought. “I’m not sure, Miss Dotty. I’ll have to check my calendar. I’m going to pick up some treats to take over to the firehouse, but if you want to come by this afternoon, we’ll see what we can find.”
“That sounds good. I think I need a new look.”
Maddie got a large cardboard container out for Pepper’s order. Regardless of how they felt about each other, Pepper was a good customer. Grant had a sweet tooth and Pepper wasn’t inclined to bake, so she stopped in fairly often to get treats for him and the other guys at the firehouse.
“I like your look,” Pepper said. “What’s prompting the change?”
“Well,” Miss Dotty said with a conspiratorial look in her eye, “I think I want to start dating again.”
That froze Maddie in her tracks. Miss Dotty was a widower in her late sixties. Her stroke several years back had taken her from eccentric to downright kooky. Maddie kept waiting for the day Miss Dotty decided to streak nude through the square. The idea of her dating was a little disconcerting.
“Ever since the bachelor auction at Valentine’s Day, I’ve been thinking about trying my hand at romance again. I was disappointed, of course, when you outbid me for Grant, but I know he’s too young for me. I need to find someone like Bert. He and Vera have really hit it off.”
“Bert and Vera are dating?” Maddie couldn’t help but ask.
“Yes,” Pepper answered. “For about a month or so. They got together at the Fourth of July picnic and have been nearly inseparable since then. You haven’t heard?”
“No,” Maddie said. She didn’t like Pepper’s tone, implying she was stupid somehow for not noticing. Did people not notice that she had spent all summer trying to get her new business going? She’d completely overhauled the old Rosewood Bakery. Madelyn’s was on a whole other level. It was elegant and refined, featuring a new selection of French pastries she’d mastered while studying in Paris. The interior was redone with intricately designed blush-and-cream wallpaper, and new wainscoting didn’t put itself up. The crystal chandelier overhead was imported from Marseille.
That was just the beginning. She was working on opening a teashop in the room over the bakery and was already hosting little girl princess birthday parties there. She didn’t have time to worry about what others were doing, especially when it came to two old people making out like teenagers all over town. “I don’t work in the beauty shop, so I’m not privy to the town gossip. Not that I really care.”
“You should care,” Miss Dotty said. “You might be young and beautiful now, with your choice of suitors, but that won’t always be the case. Someday you may end up like me—an old, withered-up widow with
needs
. Bert and Vera have given me hope that maybe that itch can get scratched.”
Oh dear Jesus. That was the last image Maddie wanted in her head. She took a deep breath. No, no. She was not going to let those pictures settle into her brain. It was bad enough when she found out that the previous owner of the bakery had died from a heart attack brought on by a night of passion with Bert Swenson.
“What can I get you today, Pepper?” Maddie desperately tried to shift the subject away from senior sex.
Pepper turned back to the case with a twinkle of amusement in her dark eyes. She seemed to get some pleasure out of Maddie’s discomfort. Someone should enjoy it, she supposed. “Give me a blueberry and an apple cinnamon muffin, a slice of the orange pound cake . . .”
“That’s Grant’s favorite,” Maddie piped up brightly.
Pepper looked at her with a deadpan expression indicating that she apparently wasn’t impressed with Maddie’s knowledge. “Yes, I know. A cinnamon roll,” she continued, “and a Bavarian cream horn. That’s for me, so could you put it in a separate box?”
“Sure thing,” Maddie said, although she didn’t really want to. Her pastry boxes were custom-made, pink with embossed lettering on the top. They weren’t cheap. Every time she handed one out, she watched that money slip away. She probably needed to invest in some bags for smaller items and some plain boxes, saving the nice ones for more important things. She just hated to do it. It was one of the touches that made Madelyn’s special, and it was good advertising. Advertising her father insisted she didn’t need, given that she was the only bakery in town.
Shaking off her father’s doubts, she boxed up Pepper’s order and rang her up. She ignored Pepper and Miss Dotty’s idle chatter while she ran Pepper’s card. She was slipping the signed credit card receipt into the cash drawer when the chime on the front door announced another customer. It was quite the busy Thursday morning.
Maddie looked up in time to see Miss Francine, the owner of the local flower shop, Petal Pushers, rushing through the door. She came by every morning with a bouquet of fresh flowers that Maddie displayed on the counter. She was clutching a bouquet of pale pink hydrangeas and white dahlias, but she didn’t seem particularly interested in the flowers.
“Oh my heavens, have you all seen it?” Miss Francine was red-faced and absolutely horrified. She thrust the bouquet across the counter at Maddie and shook her head in dismay. “It’s disgraceful.”
“Seen what?” Miss Dotty asked.
Miss Francine took a moment to recover before speaking of the dreadful thing. “Someone has spray-painted a giant penis on the side of the Piggly Wiggly.”
Miss Dotty giggled. Pepper smothered a snort of laughter. Maddie just sighed. This town was so unrefined sometimes. She worked hard trying to bring some culture and elegance to Rosewood, and just when she’d started to make progress, a ten-foot wiener showed up on the side of the grocery store and set her back months.
“I could see it right out the window of my shop this morning. I went to turn the Open placard, and there it was in bright red paint like a damn neon sign. Some teenager’s prank, I’m sure. Pat Kincaid, the manager of the grocery store, is out there painting over it right now, but the damage is done. The elementary school bus already went by and all the kids saw it. Clark Newton at the newspaper even snapped a few pictures for the front page of the
Rosewood Times
tomorrow.”
“There will be some interesting discussions around the dinner table tonight,” Pepper noted.
“Indeed. I’m so rattled by the whole thing, I think I might get a little something, Maddie. My blood sugar feels low from the shock of it all.”
She must really be rattled. Miss Francine was not the kind to indulge in sweets and empty calories. For a woman in her sixties, she hadn’t yet fallen prey to the ravages of time. She was nearly six feet tall with the body of an Amazon and a head of neatly coiffed red-gold hair. Miss Francine gazed at the morning’s offerings while Maddie put the flowers into the crystal vase and arranged them.
The hydrangeas were a particularly lovely shade of pink today, a pale, rosy color that went with the wallpaper without overpowering it. They were perfect. Yesterday’s gerbera daisies had been a little too bright for her taste, but part of the agreement she made with Miss Francine was that it was florist’s choice in exchange for a reduced rate and a placard on the counter that noted they were from Petal Pushers.
“Well, I’d better get these treats to the boys before my first appointment,” Pepper said. “I’ll see y’all later. Thanks, Maddie.”
Maddie raised a hand as the redheaded hairstylist slipped out of her shop. That just left Miss Francine and Miss Dotty, although she didn’t really know why Miss Dotty was still there. She had nothing better to do, apparently.
Maddie didn’t have that problem. Sunday was her only day off. She got up at 3 a.m. every day, arriving at the shop by four to start baking the day’s goods. By the time the sun came up, she had trays of cinnamon rolls and sticky buns cooling, muffins and breads baking, and pastry cream whipping up in the mixer. When she opened at eight, most things were ready to go for the day.
The shop closed briefly for lunch, then reopened and stayed open until five thirty. It was nonstop, every day but Sunday, when she went to church, had dinner with her family, and spent the evening working on the shop’s books. Math wasn’t her forte, but she couldn’t afford an accountant. She’d get an assistant before she got an accountant.
With a sigh, Maddie leaned against the back counter, which was lined with faux cakes. It was only nine in the morning and she was exhausted.
“Maddie, dear?”
She perked up, moving down the counter to where Miss Francine was standing. Miss Dotty was nowhere to be seen, which meant Maddie must have half dozed off and not noticed her leaving the shop. “Yes, Miss Francine?”
The woman tilted her head, looking down her long, narrow nose at Maddie. “Are you getting enough sleep?”
“No,” she replied before she could stop herself. “I try to be in bed by seven or eight at night, but sometimes I just lie there while my brain spins. And lately, when I do fall asleep, I get woken up by the noise at the bar.”
Miss Francine narrowed her gaze. “That’s right. You bought the old Victorian across the street from Woody’s, didn’t you?”
“I did. And I love that house, I really do. But between the noise at the bar going until all hours and the stench of the pizza place always in the air, it’s turned out to be less than ideal.”
“Can you move?”
Maddie’s eyes widen. “No. I just bought the place. What little money I do have is tied up in it and the bakery. I already owe my father and my grandmother my firstborn. And really, the house is perfect. I wish I could just pick it up and drop it in a different part of town.”
She’d gotten used to the smell of Italian food constantly wafting through her open windows, but she couldn’t get past the noise at the bar. During the week, it was open until eleven. Fridays and Saturdays, it was open until two in the morning. Not even earplugs and a sound machine could muffle the music, laughter, voices, honking cars, and drunks shouting in the street. One morning, she actually found vomit on her lawn.
“Have you spoken to Mr. Sawyer about the noise?”