Chapter 1
Mark
The salsa beatfills the kitchen and I dance around, swinging my hips like I’m making love to a beautiful woman. It’s been a while but the moves are still there.
I grab the flour and settle in to pull my dough to make a gorgeously shiny braid. The bread is going to be sweet with a cinnamony goodness that’s hopefully as good as it looks.
Hips swaying, I turn with a swish and jerk to a halt, pulling off my AirPods when I notice movement.
“Jesus, Mark! What the hell are you doing back here? It sounds like a bunch of elephants crashing around in here.”
Snorting, I lay the dough back down and glare at Liam. “I’m working. What do you need?”
“I wanted to remind you that tomorrow night you’re doing the group with the young bakers from the school.”
Glaring harder, I snap my hands to the counter and roll my aching neck. “Gimme a break. How many times do you think you need to remind me of things that I do every month?”
He nods his head. “I know.” He clears his throat and there’s a nervous tic next to his eye that makes me stand up straight, nervous energy flowing into me. “What? What’s that look?”
“I kinda added a little something to it.”
Rolling my eyes, I set my tray up to go in the huge ovens. “And what would that be?”
“I invited a podcaster in to do a story on Spice Spice Baby and what we’re doing here with our community outreach.”
Whipping around, I snap, “I don’t like dealing with people like that and you know it! I do the time with the kids because it’s important. The kids are important. You let a podcaster in here it messes with the energy and all of a sudden it’s all about them. I hate that shit!”
“She’s not like that. And by the way, you keep talking like that and I swear I’m gonna get a swear jar in here. We’ll probably be able to buy that space next door to expand in less than a year.”
“Humph!’ I snort, sliding my tray onto the racks, closing the door and wiping flour off my hands on a rag that’s tucked into my waist. “Don’t blame all the swearing around here on me, buddy. You do the same. Especially when somebody pops up with a little surprise.”
“She’s nice and trust me. She’s nothing like most podcasters. She focuses on the stories and not her own personal ideas.”
Rolling my eyes, I lean back on the counter, ignoring my stiff hip. My age is slowly creeping up on me. Thirty-six isn’t that old but I love to run and the five miles every couple of days is great for my fitness but less great for my knees and hips.
I prefer a night at the club but with my daughter I just don’t really have time. Or a willing woman to dance with. A woman to make love to. Nothing beats the sweet scent of a woman’s desire around you as you lose yourself for hours on end.
But that’s been a long time too. My eight-year-old daughter is probably the biggest cock-block there is but I wouldn’t trade her for anything. I don’t regret a single second of her young life or mine.
I regret my ex but never Casey.
“Hey, Thompson. Get your head out of your ass and listen! I’ve got other things to do, man.”
“I get it,” I sigh. “I will take care of your little podcaster. But don’t expect me to be happy about it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some of our signature lemon thyme scones to get baked.”
“Got it. Just try and have fun with the kids tomorrow night and answer her questions. Everything else will take care of itself.”
“You’re a pain in my ass,” I mutter as he ducks out the door. I like all the guys that I work with. We’ve done everything to make this place as successful as we can. All of us have our own strengths. But we’ve all come together to run the place and make something that supports our visions and our children.
Every single one of us is raising kids and kicking ass at it. But sometimes it’s a bit much for one person and we hang together as a group, our very own support system.
I thought I was gonna lose my mind when my wife walked away when Casey was born. We kept trying to work things out but we just couldn’t work it out. Casey’s the light of my life but my ex, Denise, never really wanted kids and she couldn’t take the pressure of having Casey.
I, on the other hand, love every second with her. I’m teaching her to bake too. She’s a natural. She’s gonna be a chip off her old dad’s block.
Giggling and waving distracts me for a second as I add the lemon zest and a little thyme to the dough. Glancing up, I find myself locked on a gorgeous blond, with mischievous blue eyes, eyeing me up like I’m a snack she wants to gobble down.
Sighing, I smile at her but then focus on my dough and ignore her. I hate the open concept kitchen sometimes. I love my job and when we had the idea for Spice Spice Baby, the open concept was supposed to give customers a chance to view how we put our all into the things we sell.
