I was nervous the first time she came in, especially with her huge emotional support dog and the bikers who followed her. But I’m not scared anymore. I feel safer knowing they’re out there. I suspect, like me, she’s hiding something in her past, but I don’t push her for answers. If I do, she’ll want me to share too, and I can never do that. I can’t let anyone else suffer because of me again.
The bell jingles over the door, and I turn to greet the customer. My heart thumps in my chest, and I almost trip in my heels. He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. He’s the epitome of an Alaskan man, like he just walked out of his bush cabin to come into town. I’m tall, and my heels make me even taller at about six feet, but this man is huge in every way. He’s got to be close to six-foot-eight at least. His hair is a bit long and medium brown, and his eyes are the color of whiskey. His beard and mustache are neatly trimmed. His straight nose has a bump at the base, like it’s been broken before. A thick brown eyebrow with a scar through it arches as he takes me in. Oly buries herself against me, pressing her face to my neck. She’s still scared around strangers.
His eyes rake over me again like a caress, settling on the exposed swells of my breasts. A deep growl escapes from his chest, but instead of scaring me, my body responds. My nipples pucker, and I’m so glad my padded bra hides the fact. But no amount of makeup can hide the flush warming my pale skin. His gaze follows it up, and he smirks at me, that raised, scarred brow making my pulse spike. I want to trace that scar with my finger, then kiss it.
Harlowe walks past me straight into his arms. “Rylan, stop scaring my new boss.”
Rylan is her brother, but I remember she said he goes by Kodiak, his road name, which is fitting. He is a bear, with his massive muscles and dark looks.
Instead of embarrassing myself because I’m so flustered by him and unable to speak, I turn and walk to the counter. I can feel his eyes on my body. The fine hairs on the back of my neck rise. I can’t stop the sway of my hips if I wanted to. The heels make it worse, but I want him to know I’m a woman and interested. I shouldn’t be, but something about him makes me want to try.
“What’s good around here?” he asks Harlowe, who immediately starts telling him about some of our pastries and all my breads.
My shop is unique to the area. It’s not like one of the chain bread stores or the typical coffee shops. I offer French breads, desserts, pastries, coffee, and tea. Everything is sold by the loaf or by the slice. There is a small dine-in area for those who want to hang around.
“You need to try thegougères,” she tells him. “Marnie specializes in them.”
I don’t correct her. I make a better Croque Madame or Croque Monsieur.
He follows her to the counter, and I set Oly down in the highchair I keep behind it.
“Tell me about thesegougères,” he says, his deep voice pronouncing the word perfectly.
I’m in my element now and can easily talk about my baking. “Gougèresare light and airy French cheese puffs. They have a crispy crust with a cheesy center. I can get you a café or an Americano if you prefer.” My hip cocks to the side as I talk to him.
His chuckle is deep and rich. Instead of talking to me directly, he leans toward Oly and makes himself appear smaller. “Okay, littlebeauté, what do you prefer? What’s your favorite thing to eat here?”
She smiles at him, her little dimples popping out. “Momma makes best bread and cheese samich,” she tells him.
“A bread and cheese sandwich? Who told you that? Your daddy?”
Olympia shakes her head. “No daddy. Just my momma make the best croc girly.”
“Oh, a Croque Madame?” he asks, glancing up at me from the corner of his eye while keeping his focus on Oly. “I’d try one of those, but I don’t think they’re on the menu right now. What do you think of these cheese puffs?”
“Them good. Momma make good shoes too.”
This time, he looks at me with his eyebrow raised. I’m completely entranced by the fact he’s talking to my little girl and she’s no longer afraid of him. I also like that he speaks to her in French. I’ve been working on teaching her French because of her father, and she knows sign language as well.
“Shoes?” he questions me with a shocked expression on his face.
I chuckle and cover my mouth because my laugh is awful, or so I’ve been told. “She means choux pastry.”
“Ah, now I got it. I’ll take an order of thegougères. Also, a loaf of brioche and apain de campagne.” He doesn’t even glance at the display case, like he already knows I have them.
Harlowe rushes to the back to get him the loaves he requested, and I bag an order of fourgougères.
“These are good with fig jam or on a charcuterie board.”
He stands to his full height and looks down at me. “Sugar, I’m going to eat them all myself. I’m not sharing anything you’ve made with anyone, unless you want to share them with me.”
Heat rushes to my face, and I drop my head so he can’t see the blush spreading across my cheeks.
Kodiak
The beauty before me is so shy it’s hard to believe she’s a mother to the sweet child. I could eat her up and enjoy every second of it. The fact that she doesn’t have a man to protect them makes something primal roar inside my head.
Some of my men already think I’m a beast. When I lose control, I don’t always remember what I’m doing. I tear up everything around me.
