Page 3 of When Death Whispers

“I’ve asked you not to call me that,” I mutter, wiping icing from my hands and risking a glance in his direction.

Mistake.

He grins, mischief sparkling in his blue eyes, sandy blond hair flopping perfectly across his forehead. My traitorous heart stumbles. Why does he have to be so effortlessly charming? It’s a shame I have to keep him at bay. Out of necessity and survival.

“It’s the perfect nickname for a baker. You’re always dusted in flour and sugar. Like snow.” He reaches out and gently sprinkles a pinch of powdered sugar into my hair, his fingers brushing too softly against my temple.

My cheeks warm, and I turn away before he notices. If Hudson knew how close he was to breaking through my defenses, he’d never stop. And I can’t let that happen.

If I tried to explain, he’d probably laugh. Or worse—call me crazy. He’s the normal type—the golden boy type. Definitely not the sort of guy to believe in monsters that live in closets and whisper your name from the shadows.

It’s better to bite my tongue, finish the cakes, and hope he finds someone else to charm.

But of course, he doesn’t. Like I said, the guy is incapable of reading a room.

As if on cue, Hudson plops onto the stool next to me, grabbing an icing bag and a blank cake square. He moves with an infuriating kind of ease, like he’s completely at home no matter where he is.

I clench my jaw.Please don’t mess it up, please don’t mess it up...

I take a deep breath and focus on mine instead—a square vanilla cake with smooth white buttercream, finished with blue and white flowers along the corners. I leave the center blank for a message later. Just like always.

One cake down. Four more to go. Well, three. Maybe. Depends on how badly Hudson screws his up.

You’d think a small town like Creek Haven wouldn’t have this many cake orders in a day. But no—these people are alarmingly cheerful. They throw parties for everything. New baby. New fence. A cat’s birthday.

Six thousand residents. Practically one big nosy family.

They don’t call it the happiest town of Saskatchewan for nothing. Or that’s what the folks in this town say. I don’t really know who comes up with these things or what they base them off of.

The upside? It’s quiet. No major highways, no crime, no chaos. Tucked between forests and rivers like a secret. A place where I can work nights, sleep during the day, and keep to myself with few unseen dangers and things that can accidentally kill you. Win-win.

Bonus? I get to do a fun job that helps settle my nerves. There’s a sort of peacefulness that comes with baking and decorating cakes. One that doesn’t involve interacting with anyone.

Except for Hudson Carter. He seems to go out of his way to land every shift I’m on. I’ve made it clear I don’t like him.

… At least, I’ve tried.

Curious, I glance at the cake he’s working on—and blink.

Not only is itnota disaster, but it’s beautiful. Delicate filigree curls along the corners, and in the center he’s piped a sunflower so precise it looks almost real. And?—

“Is that a hummingbird?” I whisper before I can stop myself.

He smirks, clearly pleased. “Mrs. Samson always chooses the designs with birds or butterflies. She says her grandkids like ‘Grandma’s cute cakes.” His smile turns gentle, surprisingly thoughtful. “Pretty sure she pretends she makes them herself.”

I stare at him, genuinely stunned—and annoyingly charmed. Hudson Carter, secretly baking sentimental cakes for little old ladies? Who knew?

This whole time I thought it was Betty…

He slides the cake over like it’s nothing. “She’ll be in tomorrow to grab this one for the weekend. Her grandkids are driving in from the city.”

I should say something snarky or roll my eyes, but I can’t quite manage it. It’s sweet—unexpectedly sweet.

Dammit.

“Not bad, right?” he says, eyebrows lifted playfully.

I’m almost ready to admit he’s not as insufferable as I thought when he smirks wickedly. “Maybe I’ll decorate the next one with a naked guy. Could be good company for you.”

---