Chapter One
BRADLEY
The bell at The Confetti Bakery jingles as I walk in, the same way it always does, only it’s not Chelsea that greets me like she usually does, it’s her mom, Sandy.
“Hey, Mrs. Piper.”
The tall, wiry lady looks up from the cash register, tucking a stray dark lock behind her ear. “Hi, Bradley.” She smiles. “How many times have I told you to call me Sandy?”
“Probably the same amount of times I’ve said you can call me Brad.” I grin.
“Touché.”
She’s so much like Chelsea, their blue eyes really set off their dark hair and fair complexions. I’ve known the family forever, well, since Chelsea and I were in school together, anyway, and that seems like a lifetime ago.
Chelsea moved away for a while and lived in Nevada, but came back to LA with her son, Deaton, a couple of years back.
“No Chelsea today?” I ask, leaning on the white, speckled quartz counter, taking in the most glorious smells. There’s nothing like the waft of cupcake batter, cinnamon and whatever they have baking out back at any one given time. The smells all mingle together, creating a kind of heavenly bakery scent. If Icould bottle it, I’d probably make as much money as I do selling houses.
“Oh, she’s doing the school drop off,” Sandy says. “And she has an appointment at the bank right about now.”
“Ah.” I nod, not sure why I feel disappointed to not see her. I guess I’m used to her being here when I come in. Deaton usually runs out to greet me, too. I’m here a few times a week. When I’m not picking up orders for clients, or for an open house where I want to impress with some delicious cupcakes, I’m here with Noah while we stuff our faces. He loves the cookies and cream cupcakes, and I’m a red velvet kinda guy, but the vanilla buttercream ones she makes with the wings on the top are a close favorite. The chocolate croissants are next level, and she has these mini sticky date self-saucing puddings that you can take away and heat later. I take that option a lot. The coffee here is also to die for.
It’s a good job I work out because I’d probably be the size of a house if I didn’t.
“I’m just putting an order in for the weekend, a dozen of the apple crumble and pecan muffins and a dozen of the lemon and white chocolate cupcakes.”
“Sounds like you have a fancy showing coming up.” Sandy beams, taking the pencil from behind her ear and reaching for a pad of paper and jotting the order down. It’s old school here, even though they have an up-to-date electronic cash register. “You know Chelsea will throw in a red velvet or two for you now, don’t you?” She winks, and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
I laugh. “Busted.”
Her mom has been helping her out since she started up. I know her folks helped her plow a lot of money into setting up the business. They’ve hired a junior server, Rose, who helps them after school and on the weekends, and one other part-time baker. But I’d go as far to say it’s never ending for Chelsea andher mom, but their efforts are paying off. Sweet Confetti Bakery is the best in town, and Chelsea has already made a name for herself in just a few short years.
“I might even take a coffee and a croissant to go. Actually, make it a box, I’m heading into the office and my brothers will only get all grouchy with me if I don’t bring them any treats.”
“One box coming up. Cappuccino, extra foam?”
A grin I’ve been told I don’t often share sneaks its way onto my face. “How did you know?”
Sandy laughs. “You’re our best customer. Lucas Property Brothers sure keeps this little bakery busy, Archer Realty too, I’m sure you have something to do with that.”
“I like to spread the word,” I say with a sheepish smile. “That, and I love this little place.” I have sent business Chelsea’s way, but it’s not out of sympathy, she really is an amazing baker.
“You’re such a sweetheart.”
I cough into my palm as I pass Sandy my credit card. “Better not tell my competitors that,” I muse.
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“I’ll pay for the whole lot now,” I say when she rings in the croissants and my coffee.
“Oh, are you sure?”
“Yep. I know Chels normally sends an invoice, but I’m happy to pay for it while I’m here.”
“You’re putting me through my paces this morning,” she laughs, the dimples on her cheeks almost identical to her daughter’s as she works out the bill. “It’s too early to be doing all this math.”
“Don’t worry, I have an assistant who does most of mine.”
