Wilde Forever (Wilde Women Book 1) (4 page)

Holy cannoli. Would you get a look at this guy
, Amy thought when she caught sight of a seriously good-looking man climbing out of a truck parked in the first space at the end of the walkway to the bakery. She might be a happily married woman with a very hunky husband and two rambunctious kids but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the confident swagger or the bad boy head-to-toe black wardrobe on the man coming her way. Whoever the guy was, he certainly wasn’t a local, and judging by the fierce frown on his stubble covered face, he also wasn’t in the running for the happy camper award.

Amy hurriedly took her place at the bakery counter and slapped a beaming, welcoming smile on her face as he swung the door open and she heard the delicate chimes hung on the doorknob tinkle playfully.
Rhiann would so love this guy
, she chuckled silently. He had bad-ass Alpha Male written all over him. She wished she could pull out her phone, snap a picture, and send it to the budding romance writer for her inspiration board. Before he’d spoken a single word, Amy had already pegged him as perfect hero material.

“Hi there!” she gushed enthusiastically as the man in black yanked off his sunglasses and glanced around the shop. “Welcome to Wilde Bakery. You’re just in time too. The baker just put out a fresh tray of cinnamon rolls. They’re beyond yummy. Would you like a sample?”

The minute he opened the door and heard the faint jingle of chimes, Jax was engulfed with so much sensory input he had to stop and gather himself. Aromas that made his mouth water filled the air—cinnamon, warm bread, apples, vanilla sugar, coffee—and wrapped around his nerve endings.

Pulling off his Ray-Bans, his eyes were inundated with detail. Whoever did the renovation on this building had done some magnificent work. Reclaimed wood floors reflected the sunlight shining from ceiling to floor windows at the rear of the shop. The entire outer wall, running front to back, was exposed brick. A curved counter sat in front of the wall, faced in beadboard and painted a soft, muted sage. Large old-fashioned chalkboards hung along the brick wall detailing the day’s specials and modern glass bakery displays anchored either end of the long counter. Rustic wood tables and shelves were covered in baskets and wood crates filled with loaves of bread, rolls, and every imaginable baked good.

Behind him a wall had been opened up into the old barn he’d noticed driving in; the large open space was set with tables and chairs and featured wood beams, a tremendous stone fireplace, and more tall windows. The place was seriously amazing, and his appreciation helped rein in his annoyance at his father. Maybe his expertise really was needed. He kind of hoped so. Whoever was visualizing this transformation had a great eye, and he wouldn’t mind bringing his talents and skills to such a project.

Turning toward the very pretty woman behind the counter greeting him with a bright smile, Jax shoved his sunglasses into an inside pocket of his leather jacket and walked in her direction, his mind taking in a thousand small bits of information about the craftsmanship, on which no detail had been spared. Oh yeah, and the baked goods scattered around were making his stomach sit up and take notice. But that wasn’t why he was here.

“G’Morning,” he said politely. “Cinnamon rolls are the devil’s handiwork, y’know,” he told her with a straight face. The woman’s eyes lit up, and she laughed out loud at his remark.

“What?” she chuckled, with a confused snicker.

“Many a man has been lured to his doom by a gooey roll and its promise of heavenly delight.”

The woman had a good sense of humor and played along with a sly smile. “Ah, I see you’ve heard about our sinful buns.”

Jax had to laugh at her cheeky comeback. Sinful buns, indeed.

“I’m taking your comment to mean that you’d
really
like a taste. Of a sample, I mean.” She looked at him with a tongue-in-cheek innocence that made him smile. Catching sight of her gleaming wedding ring he mentally checked himself and silently applauded the man who’d been lucky enough to land the pleasant woman. This was another thing he’d found likeable about being so far from the city. The women in these towns were less artificial and had a down-to-earth charm he found easy on the nerves.

“You wouldn’t by any chance be the proprietor of this place would you?” Enough flirting, even if it was casual and harmless. Time to think about business.

She laughed and shook her head furiously. “Oh, God no. I’m hopeless in the kitchen. Drives my husband crazy! I’m Amy by the way and from seven to three every day, I run the bakery and manage the tearoom.”

Jax stepped closer and shook the hand she offered over the counter, aware the entire time that she was quite literally checking him out from head to toe.

Clearing his throat, he nodded, acknowledging the charming establishment and continued, “Nice to meet you Amy. My name is Jax. Jax Merrill. Is the owner around? While I’d love a cinnamon roll, I’m really here to see about a renovation project.”

He thought that by clearly stating what his business was, he’d be sending a hands-off signal, but that didn’t seem to be the case. When he asked about the owner, Amy flashed a quick expression that looked like she’d just won the damn lottery. He had no idea what was going on in her mind, and it threw him a bit.

“Oh my goodness!” she chirped excitedly. “You need to speak to the baker then.”

“I guess so,” he answered with a half roll of his shoulder. “Is he the owner?”

His grumpy morning suddenly turned interesting when the woman eyeballing him clapped her hands together in glee. “This is awesome,” he heard her mutter.
Shit.
He hated it when there was a subtext in the air, and he didn’t know what it meant.

“Would you mind letting him know that I’d like to see him?”

“Absolutely,” Amy chuckled. “Why don’t you go grab a coffee in the tearoom and I’ll stick my head in the kitchen and announce that you’re here.”

She vanished in the next breath, having dashed though wide swinging doors before he could react.
Just fucking great
. He briefly wondered if the owner was the woman’s husband and cringed. Last thing he needed was a wife with a wandering eye and a husband on a leash. Yeah. He needed a coffee. Maybe even a double.

“Brynn!”

She startled when she heard her name being called and turned toward the sound.

“What?” she grumbled at Amy. “I’m busy.” Apparently she wasn’t quite ready to make nice with her assistant and forget about the troubling thoughts weighing down her mind.

“Well, get unbusy. There’s someone here to see you.”

Brynn frowned at this news. She didn’t have any appointments scheduled and wasn’t expecting anybody. Bad bloody timing too. In her present frame of mind she was anything but friendly and would have a hard time being businesslike.

“Hey!” Brynn wailed as Amy whacked her butt with a kitchen towel. “What the hell was that for?”

“Oh. Sorry boss. My bad. You’ve got flour on your ass. I was just helping get it off.”

“I’m a baker, Amy. Having flour on my clothes is part of the deal. What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Brynn’s eyes narrowed when she saw Amy glance at the door to the shop. What the hell was going on? Her assistant had a weird expression that hovered between mischief and total innocence. She had two sisters dammit and wasn’t stupid when it came to female meddling.

Suddenly, her assistant morphed into a mother figure, pulling off Brynn’s apron and even using the towel to swipe at something on her face.
Oh, come on,
she thought. What in the world was all this fussing about?

“I don’t have time for any nonsense Amy so stop with the mother hen routine. Unless you tell me what’s really going on, you can just go send whoever is here to see me on their merry way.”

The assistant laughed. “Oh, you have time for this nonsense.”

“Planning on telling me why?”

The grin coming back her way got even bigger. “Does tall, seriously cute, and dressed all in black qualify as
why
?”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Brynn snarled. “Seriously? You want to drag me out front because of a guy? The customers are your job. I like being in the kitchen, and that’s the way it’s going to stay.”
Fuck.
Even to her own ears she sounded like a mud-stuck spinster too set in her own ways to indulge in a little fun.

“Brynn Wilde,” Amy pouted. “You are a pain in the tochus! You know that, right?”

“Yeah, well …. my tochus is fine the way it is. Stop with the Hello Dolly matchmaking, would you? I do not have time for every hot piece of ass that stops by.”

“Someday I’m going to make you eat those words, but right now you have a visitor so stuff a sock in the whining. He’s here to see
you
. Not stop by the bakery for a treat. He mentioned something about the renovation project. Whatever the case, stop yer bitchin’ lady and get out there!”

Slamming her hands on her waist, Brynn growled and stomped a foot.
Anything else
, she wondered. At the moment all she could concentrate on was her own problems; about the last thing she wanted to deal with was a reminder of the projects she needed done at the house. If some guy was here to see her about the work, that meant she’d have to step away from the kitchen and make nice when losing herself in the baking was all she wanted to do.

“Fine,” she sniped none too happily. “Why the hell not?” Smoothing her hair into a tight ponytail, Brynn glared at Amy as she brushed herself off. “You’ll have to listen for the timer and pull those challahs out of the oven when it dings. And if this conversation takes more than ten minutes, I expect you to interrupt and give me an out, okay?” When Amy didn’t say anything her temper flared. “I’m dead serious. Ten minutes Amy and then you cut in.”

Stomping like a sulky toddler, she headed for the door to the shop. “Where is this Mr. Black?”

Hearing Amy’s throaty laugh rattled Brynn’s nerves. “Oh, you’ll see him right away boss lady. He’s awfully hard to miss. And you might want to have a tissue in your pocket.”

“For what?” Brynn demanded.

“For the drool.”

Oh shit.

Brynn saw him the instant she cleared the swinging doors into the shop. Amy hadn’t been exaggerating. Even from across the large room she could see that he was quite a head-turner. There was just something about a guy in head-to-toe black that caught a gal’s attention.

He was tall. She was a solid five seven and a half, and he looked to be at least half a foot and more above her head. Brown hair that reminded her of Nana’s vintage mink coat softened the man in black look, but not by much. The broad shoulders underneath a well-worn leather jacket actually made Brynn catch her breath. He looked like someone you’d run to for comfort in a thunderstorm.

Wait a minute!
What?
Run to in a thunderstorm? Good grief. She must be losing her mind with a thought like that. Brynn did not do
run to
scenarios. That wasn’t who she was. Still, she couldn’t ignore the masculinity that emanated off his body in waves.

“Um,” Brynn mumbled. “Excuse me,” she said with an unexpected lack of confidence as she addressed the back of the man who had yet to turn around. “Are you looking for me?”