Valhalla Cupcakes
Authors: Cassidy Cayman
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
by Cassidy Cayman
Visit online at CassidyCayman.com
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Audrey Allen dipped her finger into the creamy pink frosting and closed her eyes before licking it off. The strawberry flavor burst on her tongue and she sighed happily.
“This is it. You did it, Maria, this is better than sex.”
Her assistant baker and frosting genius shook her head. “I worry about you sometimes, Audrey.”
“It’s the best strawberry frosting I’ve ever tasted. Not too sweet, perfectly light and fluffy. We’re going to be rich when word gets out.”
The older woman smiled indulgently. “I hope you’re right.
“I am. You know our cupcakes are amazing.”
Audrey looked at her shop, set up in the downstairs of a tidy Victorian house in the trendiest part of the cozy tourist town of Annabel, California. Every last penny she had, along with an unexpected inheritance and a big chunk of her mom’s life savings, went to converting the kitchen to professional standards, the perfect decor, and Maria’s salary.
One wall was exposed brick and she’d had the dainty fireplace built out to make it look more rugged and rough-hewn. The carved wood mantel was decorated with a variety of antique wooden and pewter candlesticks holding tall pink candles interspersed with fancy cut crystal votives. The seating area was scattered with several small plank tables, and the chairs all had an elaborate Viking ship bow dragon head carved into the backs, her very favorite and most extravagant items. The other walls were half paneled and half papered in a tiny rose print that she’d fell in love with and kept, and hung with all sorts of Norse knotwork a local artist had made out of gold string, pastel ribbons, and rope, fun little nature prints in gilt frames, a few antlers, and her baking awards. A snug nook held two forest green velvet armchairs with faux fur throw pillows, and a delicate, spindle leg side table sat in between them. It was an odd but relaxing mix of Medieval and girly frou-frou, and it made her happy every time she walked down the stairs and realized it was hers each morning.
The upstairs, where she lived, was far less impressive, but it was worth seeing her dream come true to put up with a leaky shower, creaky floorboards, and windows that were stuck tight from years of paint. None of the customers would ever see that. They’d only see the charming fantasy she’d worked so hard on for the last six months.
The little bell attached to the front door rang and she hurried to help her friend Seda, who came in weighted down under a package that was almost as big as she was. She managed to prop it against one of the tables and stood in front of it protectively.
“Hang on, first things first,” she said, slapping Audrey’s hand away from the brown wrapping paper.
She opened her bag and whipped out two Viking helmets made of pink felt and fake fur, the horns adorned with glitter. Valhalla Cupcakes was written across the front of each one in tiny rhinestones. She plopped one on Audrey’s head and handed one to Maria with a flourish.
“For your grand opening,” she said.
Audrey took hers off and admired how cute it was, touched at the gesture. She had decided they would wear t-shirts and aprons with the name of the bakery on it, and these would be the perfect finishing touch to the somewhat plain uniform. Maria looked only mildly disgruntled to be wearing it, which meant she secretly thought they were awesome.
“I love them,” Audrey said, hugging her crafty best friend, who worked as an interior designer and could make just about anything.
“And now, for the real gift,” Seda said. “I was at an auction the other day for that cranky client I told you about— the one who wants the old Venetian glass chandeliers? Anyway, it was a bust except for this brilliant find.” She stepped aside and motioned for Audrey to tear into the huge present.
With a squeal, she pulled away a corner to reveal an ornate gilt frame. She got excited, still not having anything hung over the mantel. Maria hurried around from the other side of the glass bakery display and helped her rip off the rest of the paper to reveal a giant oil painting.
Audrey was silent, her excitement slithering away like an offended cat, not certain it wasn’t a joke. It was hard to tell with Seda and her eclectic tastes. She glanced at Maria, who had her hand firmly over her mouth, either to keep from laughing or to hide her horror.
“Don’t you love it?” Seda asked, waving her hand around the frame like a game show host. “It’s at least five hundred years old. It’s perfect for your whole Viking theme you’ve got going on.”
“That’s a Viking all right,” Maria squeaked, finally giving up and fleeing to the kitchen.
The painting was an almost photo accurate portrayal of a very large, scantily dressed, extremely angry looking man with long, wavy blond hair that seemed to flow in an invisible wind, and blue eyes that seemed to pierce right through the canvas. He wore some sort of scruffy fur vest over an unbuttoned shirt that barely covered his well muscled chest, and tight breeches that also left little to the imagination. His bronze skin gleamed and he clutched a weapon in each powerful fist.
“Yes, that’s a Viking.”
All Audrey could do was repeat Maria’s sentiment, but she had nowhere to run. She looked at Seda and saw she was serious about this present, and based on how old it was, it had probably cost her a fortune. She couldn’t hurt her feelings, but there was no way in hell she could hang this painting in her shop, either.
“Yeah, for
Valhalla
Cupcakes. He’s a perfect mascot,” she said, sounding disappointed. “Don’t you like it?”
“He looks like he’s about to commit murder,” she said, certain anyone who saw it would lose their appetite from fear.
Goodness, what was wrong with Seda? How could anyone think this barbaric, rage-filled beast would be a good idea for a place that sold desserts? Really, how this painting made it five hundred years was beyond her, unable to imagine walking past it every day. She’d have to close her eyes and run, if she even hung it in her upstairs hallway.
“It’s true he looks like he didn’t exactly want his picture taken,” Seda agreed, running her fingers down his torso. “But he’s so hot, isn’t he? All these ripply muscles. I want to put icing all over him and just—”
“Okay, I guess so,” Audrey interrupted. The subject of the painting did have some pretty extreme abs. Whoever had painted him had certainly taken their time in getting every little detail right. If she didn’t look at his terrifying expression, she could see where Seda was coming from. She turned her head to the side and found herself licking her lips as her eyes traveled lower. “He is pretty, um, well-built.”
“He’s the perfect specimen. When I saw this painting, I finally realized you had the right idea, being obsessed with these guys your whole life. He’s just yummy. Seriously, Audrey, hang him up over the mantel and women will be drooling over him as much as your cupcakes.”
The more she studied the portrait, the more she thought she was right. His intense blue eyes, though they seemed to get angrier the longer she gazed into them, were so masterfully painted, it felt as if she was looking at a real man. Honestly, she hadn’t been this close to a real man in ages.
It might be nice to have a masculine presence around the place, grumpy as he was. Maybe she’d name him Harrold. She imagined them standing in the bow of his longship, Titanic style, the ocean spray misting his chiseled body … Okay, she needed to stop.
“It’s really a great painting, Seda. Thanks.”
Seda looked at her watch and frowned, already heading for the door. “I’ll send Petey over tomorrow to help you hang it, it weighs a ton.” She ran her hand over the elaborately carved frame and sighed, clearly not wanting to leave her new paint crush.
“You don’t have to go yet, do you? We just perfected our strawberry frosting, and I made some mini banana cakes that need to get eaten.”
“I do have to leave, and you have to stop cramming sweets down my throat every time I come here. I already can’t fit into any of my pants thanks to all your testing.”
“You’re coming tomorrow, though, right?” Audrey asked nervously, plagued by nightmares the last few nights that no one showed up for the grand opening.
“I’m going to be the first one in line,” she assured, then dashed out the door with one last lingering look at their Viking mascot.
Audrey wedged the painting over in a corner, in case anyone else came in. She’d told the businesses around her that she’d have a slew of test cakes if anyone wanted to come in pre-opening and try them. She was hoping to get them all addicted so they would tell their customers and friends where to go for their cupcake needs.
“I’m still not sure about you, pal,” she said. Standing so close to the painting, she felt like the subject would reach out and grab her into it, and it wasn’t exactly fear that rippled through her at that thought. “Don’t worry, though. If I don’t hang you up down here, I’ll find a place for you upstairs.”
Maybe in her bedroom? She’d never sleep again, he was such a mix of fearsome and sexy. Feeling slightly silly, she reached out and touched his hair, half expecting to feel the soft strands under her fingertips. Nope. Just thick gobs of paint. Still, she ran her hand down the waves, stopping at his broad shoulders.
“You really should smile more,” she told him. “I bet you’re drop dead gorgeous if you smile.”
“Made friends with him already?” Maria asked wryly, coming back into the room brandishing a spatula as if she needed a weapon.
Audrey grimaced and jerked her hand away, embarrassed to be caught fondling the thing. She was so worried about the opening she’d been having a one sided conversation with a painting.
“I guess it’s growing on me,” she admitted. “He’d probably look all right over the mantel, don’t you think? Hey, you know how people alter thrift store art? Maybe we could paint a little pink helmet on his head, like the ones Seda made us.”
“I think if you tried that, his spirit would find you and haunt you.”
“Agh, Maria, I have to live here! Don’t say stuff like that, it gives me the creeps.” She rubbed her arms and looked at the wild man in the painting, silently promising not to paint any hats on his glorious mane of blond hair.
“He gives me the creeps,” Maria said, turning away from it. “I like my men skinny and weak.”
Audrey laughed, thinking of Maria’s stork-like engineer husband who never did anything more physically exerting than give their kids an occasional piggy back ride.
The doorbell rang again, and they both called out, “Welcome to Valhalla Cupcakes,” as three burly men, all dressed in black suits, barreled in.
Audrey didn’t recognize them as any of her neighbors, and their grim faces didn’t connote people who wanted sweets. No one wore suits in Annabel, even her banker had been tieless the last time she’d gone in to sign papers. They stood clumped together, taking up half her sitting area. Still, she moved toward the counter with a chipper smile.
“What’s your pleasure, gentleman? I’ve got chocolate cupcakes with marzipan frosting, banana minis with straw—”
“We didn’t come for any cupcakes,” the biggest one in the middle said. He stepped forward, crowding her alarmingly, and she saw Maria out of the corner of her eye, taking her phone out in case there was trouble. “We came for our money.”