Page 81 of A Taste of Trouble

“Jake, you can't be serious. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. You'll be my second in command.” Shelton seemed to think he was bluffing. But how could he work for a man he no longer respected?

“I know.” And he didn't care. “I thought it was something that I wanted, but your daughter, she changed that.”

“You've fallen for her.” He didn't pose it as a question.

If it had been, the answer would have been a resounding yes. He had fallen head over heels in love with the woman who now hated his guts.

“I'll clean out my desk.” Jake walked through the ballroom, aware that the crowd stared. Before he pushed through the doors, he caught the eye of his assistant, Maggie. She knew it without even having to ask. Maggie had been his better half for the last two years. Instead of going home to a wife or girlfriend who knew him inside out, it was his assistant who knew what he liked in his coffee, where he sent his dry cleaning. She could tell when he was lying or fighting off a cold.

Liv had opened his eyes, made him a believer. That love he'd been told about did exist. That deep down, all-consuming, electric feeling that he'd felt only once.

Now, he would suffer the consequences. The pain. The emotional turmoil that came with losing someone you loved.

Jake had lost his only shot at true love. It was dead and buried the minute he'd agreed to Shelton's deal.

Chapter Twenty-One

Liv stared at the twelve rows of cupcakes laid out across the island in the kitchen of her bakery. Six batches since she'd arrived early that morning. In record time. And she'd make as many as she had to in order to forget about Jake Miller.

She was running on adrenaline now. Sleep had been out of the picture last night. Betrayal after betrayal after betrayal had haunted her. She'd wished it were all a nightmare. She'd hoped it were a dream. But waking up to the cracked frame of that picture Jake had left for her brought reality crashing down. She pushed it out of her mind, showered and dressed, and made her way to work before the birds even started to sing.

In between waiting for the oven timer to go off, she organized the fridge, cleaned the bathroom, and dusted the tables in the front of the bakery.

She wasn't used to being by herself. At Sweet Creations, there was always Nancy. At the bar, there was always a waitress on staff. But here, she was utterly alone.

Working in the kitchen didn't help her loneliness. She didn't have a Nancy to check up on her. She didn't have a Corey to pass the time talking about boy bands and the latest trends on Twitter.

She picked up the piping bag and squeezed the chocolate buttercream over the coffee-flavored cupcake. She'd had it down to a science, four swirls of her hand and the cupcake was covered with a thick layer of icing.

She sniffed, and noticed a burning smell. She dropped the cupcake and turned to the ovens. Pulling open the door, she groaned. She'd forgotten to set the timer.

“Balls!” She grabbed the muffin tray out of the oven and set it on the island. The

edges were crisp, the tops a little too dark for her liking. They had cooked for a few minutes too long. Completely edible, but not sellable. It looked like Patti and Brett were going to get a cupcake surprise tonight.

She opened the back door to let out the smell. Customers wanted the sweet smell of cupcakes when they walked in, not the stiff scent of fire-roasted cake batter.

At ten she opened the doors and waited. And waited. The mind was an evil organ. When left idle, it worried, nagged, and focused on unimportant things. The state of her cupcakes, the future of her business, her friends and family…those were the important things. But instead of focusing on the things that mattered, it was lies and betrayal that sat front and center in her mind, no matter how many times she told herself this would only be a blip in the chronology of her life.

By noon she had sold half of what she had made that morning, and silently cursed herself for not setting the timer. Those twenty-four cupcakes would have come in handy.

With another lull in business, Liv ducked into the kitchen and rolled out some fondant, cutting out small leaves. Just as she was about to etch the veins on the third leaf, the jingle of the front door sang.

“How may I help you?”

A woman with blond hair and over-sized sunglasses had walked in with a stroller, her designer purse in one hand and phone in the other. The baby girl cooed from the stroller, all bundled in winter gear, her designer boots swaying back and forth. She had picked a good area for people who spent money on frivolous things. Hopefully cupcakes counted as their idea of frivolous.

The woman looked up from her phone and pulled her sunglasses to the top of her head. “My son is having friends over after school and I don't feel like making a snack.” Did she ever make snacks? She didn't look like the type.

“How many children?” Liv asked, shushing her inner judge.

The woman sighed. “There will be five.”

“How about an order of six? There'll even be one left over for you.” Liv smiled. Not that people ever needed an excuse to eat cupcakes.

“Oh, no.” She waved her phone-free hand in the air. “No carbs for me.”

Right. Of course.

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