Page 2 of Frosting and Flames

“Rachel…”

I can’t stand the pity in her voice, so I redirect the conversation. “Besides, you know I don’t go to bars or clubs or whatever. Twenty-seven is too old to be doing that, anyway.”

She gasps theatrically. “We are in the prime of our lives. And normal people go do those things. Not everyone is a workaholic obsessed with bakeries.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I bite back my reply. I’m not obsessed with my family’s bakery. But if I don’t make sure everything gets done, who else is going to? My sisters? Mom and Dad left me in charge of the business while they take their world cruise, and for good reason. The place would burn down without me there to run it.

And once was bad enough.

My phone rings and I fish it out of my purse, sighing when I see it’s Sydney. Speak of the devil.

“Hey, what are you up to?” she asks when I answer.

“I’m at the boutique with Jae.”

“Okay, cool.” I swear there’s relief in my sister’s voice. My suspicion alarm internally blares.

“Why do you want to know?”

“No reason,” she says, way too quickly to be believable. “Can’t a girl call her sister?”

We spend the large majority of our time together at the bakery. She’s probably sick of me.

“Aren’t you working?” I ask, looking at my watch. Not that I need to check it. I know exactly when the bakery’s hours are.

“Yes, of course. Oh, a customer came in. Have to go.”

The line goes dead and I hold my cell away from my ear, staring at it uneasily. She should be prepping stuff for tomorrow in the back, not up front with customers. Where’s Hailey?

“I’d ask who that was,” Jae says, “but fifty bucks says it was either Sydney or Hailey.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, my mind turning over the possibilities. “I need to stop by the bakery.”

“Wait, seriously? It’s your one day off. You can’t go a day without working?”

It’s not that I want to. It’s… I don’t know. “I have a bad feeling,” I tell her. Sydney never calls to chat. If anything, she would text, not call.

“Obsessed,” she remarks as I put my phone away. “At least tell me which dress to get.”

“You know you look amazing in all of them. But the one you’re wearing is especially great. Josh will love it.”

She turns back toward the mirror, sliding her palms over the silk. “I do look good, don’t I? Okay, you convinced me.” Her gaze meets mine in the mirror. “I’ll come to the bakery after I buy this. Don’t think you’re weaseling your way out of hanging out with me.”

I can’t help the grin that touches my lips. “I wouldn’t dream of it. See you soon.”

As much as she drives me crazy, I’m glad she moved here to Aurora from Philadelphia with her husband earlier this year. They’re wanting to start a family soon, and liked the idea of settling in a smaller town to raise kids, rather than the hustle and bustle of our college city.

I get in my car and take a moment to center myself, half-wondering if I’m taking Sydney’s weird call too seriously. It can’t hurt to check it out, at least.

It only takes five minutes to drive to Aurora Bakery, and as I find an open spot on the street to park, I wipe my palms on my jeans, a sense of foreboding filling me. Nothing appears amiss, but I can’t shake this feeling.

My first clue that something’s wrong is when I tug on the front door and nearly pull my shoulder out of my socket, finding it locked. Focusing on the door, I register that the open sign is turned to closed. Why the hell is the bakery closed in the middle of the day?

I pull out my keys and unlock it, discovering it deserted inside. Did Sydney and Hailey decide to play hooky for the day or something? No, there are voices coming from the back.

I round the counter and cautiously push open the double doors to the back work area, pulling up short at the sight of a man wedged halfway behind one of the industrial ovens, his back to me. I can’t tell who it is, only that he has dark hair and broad shoulders, with the kind of back that tapers down to a V. As he shifts, a tattoo peeks out from one of his shirt sleeves, intricately wrapped around a thick bicep. Wait, isn’t that…

“Doesn’t look like anything wrong with the power supply,” he says, voice muffled. “No charred wires or burned fuses, at least. Did the breakers trip or was there a surge—”

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