Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I drained my coffee and turned to the last page. I had her address, her cell number, her credit history. Everything. But none of it gave me insight into her.
He’d included an envelope, and I opened it, my breath catching at the pictures Arnie had managed to take. He had obviously been to the bakery where she worked and had taken them without her noticing.
The first one, she was talking to a customer. She was smiling, and the shot was clear. The pretty curls I liked were hanging around her forehead and ears again. The color was interesting. A warm brown in its hue, her hair had traces of red and gold woven in. Her eyes were dark and heavily fringed in long lashes, set under delicate eyebrows. She had a straight, elegant nose and a generous, wide mouth I had enjoyed kissing. She had pierced ears, small studs in both of them. Simple. I studied another picture of her concentrating, a furrow between her brows. She was packing up something, the tip of her tongue peeking out. I recalled the feel of her tongue sliding with mine, however briefly. I wanted to feel it again. To taste her again.
There were two other pictures. One of her speaking with a woman I assumed was her boss. Brianna looked upset, her hands clutching a piece of paper. The older woman looked smug, and I instantly disliked her. She had an air of superiority about her. And I had a feeling she lorded it over Brianna often.
The last one made my breath catch. Arnie had zoomed in, showing me Brianna’s face as the woman walked away. She looked exhausted. Defeated. Far older than her years. Far sadder than she should look.
I didn’t like the defeated woman in the pictures. I preferred her riled up and snapping at me, her eyes bright with her fire as she told me off.
No one ever told me off. They didn’t dare.
But she had. More than once. And I had liked it.
I studied the first picture again. My little bee wasn’t a woman whose beauty and elegance screamed at you. Her prettiness was quieter. It showed in her smile, the wide set of her eyes, her lovely hair. She was small in stature, but big in heart. Somehow, I already knew that.
She had run from me. Disappeared. I had found her, and I wasn’t going to let her run again.
She was a mystery. Why I needed more of her, I had no idea, but I was going to find out.
And it was going to happen today.
I walked into the bakery, the scent of bread and sweet goods hitting my nose. It was bustling, with staff helping the customers. A few tables sat to one side by the windows, but most of the business seemed to be pickup and to-go orders.
I waited patiently and ordered a breakfast roll and coffee, then carried them to the corner table. I wasn’t sure if Brianna was in the bakery, but I wanted to see the place she toiled at so often.
I sipped the coffee, eating the sweet bun slowly. It was tasty, but not as good as the cake I had eaten the other day. I eyed the cakes in the display case, certain I knew which of them she had decorated. Her work was precise, imaginative, and different. The others were standard piped cakes. It was almost as if her personality was reflected in her art.
Movement by my table caused me to look up, and I met the gaze of an older woman. Recalling the photographs, I recognized the woman as Brianna’s boss. I lifted my coffee, not speaking, letting her take the lead.
I assumed this would be interesting.
“Would you like a refill?” she asked.
“No, thank you,” I replied politely.
“Can I get you anything?”
“I was admiring your cake display. You have some nice ones in the case.”
She preened. Actually preened, patting her hair into place and smirking. “Thank you. I enjoy decorating.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “You decorate them?”
She sat down without an invitation, and I slid my chair back away from her. I didn’t like to be too close to strangers.
Unless they had dark eyes and icing smeared on their cheeks.
“Yes, I did.”
“I was at a wedding not long ago,” I improvised. “Beautiful woodland cake. I heard the name of this bakery mentioned.”
“Yes,” she lied. “It was mine.”
“Really.”
“Yes. I oversee all the specialty cakes. Would you like to order one?”
“Perhaps.”
“I’ll give you my card.”
“What if I want something specific? Different?”
“Oh, I can help you. Contact me directly.”
“Do you have pictures of your work?”
She looked uncomfortable. “I can send you some if you give me your email.”
I tamped down my anger. She was taking credit for Brianna’s work. Trying to steal business from her. Instead of saying she had a great chef and decorator, she wanted me to think it was all her. No doubt, she’d get Brianna to bake it and then sell it to me and take the money, cutting Brianna out entirely.