Bear in a Bakery Read online

  Bear in a Bakery

  Liz Paffel

  Elizabeth Otto

  Copyright © 2018 Elizabeth Otto/ 2020 Liz Paffel

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. References to real people, places, organizations, events, and products are intended to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author's imagination and not to be construed as real.

  This book formerly published as Sticky Sweet Bear. This work is an expanded and revised new edition, 2020, published by Elizabeth Otto subsidiary, DBA: Liz Paffel.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  A few months later...

  From the author

  Biography

  Bonus Content: Axxeon King’s Captive

  Chapter One

  Chapter One

  Bear shifters make terrible boyfriends.

  Allie Rowe tossed her cell phone on the counter and put her head on her outstretched arms. She was two seconds from combusting from stress and leave it to her ex, Blake—the cockiest bear shifter in Colorado—to send her a passive-aggressive, I understand you’re busy again, but it makes me angry when you don’t respond to my messages, text. She was about to text him back a picture of her sparkly, purple, rabbit-eared vibrator, lovingly named “The Rock” Johnson, with a comment that size did, indeed, matter.

  Blake and his tiny cock could fuck off. She was over him.

  She wouldn’t put it past him to have something to do with the pair of drunk raccoons that turned her beloved Sticky Sweet Bakery into a rave two nights ago. She’d come in at four a.m. to start baking and found shredded curtains, claw marks in the wallpaper, the coffee bar destroyed, and condiment wrappers scattered everywhere. The furry assholes must have eaten the sugar packets and creamer tubs in a munchie frenzy. They’d chewed on trim and baseboard, gnawed holes in the wall and dumped all three bistro tables onto their sides.

  And that was just the customer area of the bakery. The kitchen hadn’t fared much better with bowls and trays and cooking utensils dumped on the floor. Who knew raccoons under the influence could eat their way through a plastic bakery tub to consume five dozen chocolate chip cookies, and somehow manage to get into the ceiling tiles, pop them out of the frame and leave gaping holes?

  Her pretty pink and yellow store, with gingham curtains and original, hand-carved white-washed wood trim, and original brick floor looked like someone had taken an ax to it. The damage was more than she could fix on her own. The décor and cosmetics, she could remedy. But the trim, ceiling, and damage to the walls would require a professional; one she couldn’t afford. She’d already had a small electrical fire that jacked her business insurance rates. Add in this claim, and the premium would probably put her out of business.

  Allie groaned. She was so screwed.

  The bank notice she’d gotten today solidified that. The interest on her business loan was about to balloon well above what she was budgeted for. Ah, hell. It was all more to add to the Loser Allie List anyway. No matter how hard she tried, there was always another failure to add to the never-ending list of reasons why she couldn’t get her life together. The scariest thing at the moment?

  She was broke. And insurance would only cover a portion of the bakery damage, after she met her huge deductible. She was going to lose her bakery if she didn’t do something fast. Her phone buzzed, drawing her attention. Dragging herself upright, Allie read the screen. You need to make time for me, Allie. Tell me when we can meet and talk.

  She deleted the message, impressed that she could move her finger that fast. The more she indulged Blake, the more he’d bug her. In the six months since they’d been broken up, she found that ignoring him made him go away faster. She had no interest in knowing why he wanted to talk. He lived in another town now and was blessedly out of her life. He was a class-A loser, but she supposed that’s what she got for rushing into a relationship with him. Everything about their romance had gone way too fast, and she’d allowed it because she was tired of being alone. What a mistake.

  She wanted a partner, a wedding, a family of her own. All of that. But not with Blake. He’d waited until the newness of their relationship had worn off to show his true rude, temperamental, selfish personality. Not only was he an asshole, he was a terrible lover with a baby-size dick—strange for a bear shifter. She’d always imagined them hung like the proverbial horse. Worse than his unfortunate dick size was his unwillingness to do anything to please her in lieu of it. She’d faked more orgasms with Blake than Donald Trump did tans.

  She blew a stray curl out of her eyes and groaned again.

  Allie wiggled her left ring finger. It was naked for a reason. Many reasons, if you asked Blake. He was never shy about reminding her of her shortcomings, hence the impetus for her stupid, self-depreciating list: She worked too much. She was too opinionated. She had too much debt and not enough savings. She wasn’t punctual enough. She always needed help with something. She wore ugly shoes. And now, she had a ruined business.

  Enough of this! Allie slipped an old apron over her head. There was too much work to be done to wallow. The bakery was closed until the end of the week, so she could get some basic repairs made; hopefully enough to reopen for business until the rest could be fixed. She’d drawn a cutsie sign on the chalkboard stand outside by the door explaining the bakery had suffered some damage and wasn’t offering treats, but customers could step in for free coffee. It was the least she could do for her loyal customers.

  Bells chimed above the front door as it opened and let in a waft of warm, June breeze.

  “Here’s a frozen coffee thing with extra, why-even-bother, low-fat, non-dairy whip cream for you, Allie-bear.”

  Her dad, Benjamin, pushed the service door open with his hip so he could walk through, and set a tall paper cup on the glass counter for her. “Contractor will be here soon.” His face scrunched as he motioned to the empty bakery cases below. “I can hardly stand not seeing yummy stuff in there.”

  Allie gave a sad nod of agreement. This was the first time the bakery had unexpectedly closed in three years. “I’m going to be up three days straight to get merchandise made... wait, did you say contractor?”

  “Yep.” Ben took a drink of his coffee. “Came highly recommended. He’s one of them bear shifters, so you know he’ll be a good worker.”

  Allie shifted her weight in annoyance. Since her dad had retired from his teaching job at the local high school, he’d had his hands way too deep in her business. Literally and figuratively. He knew damn well that she was calling around to find a qualified contractor... okay, maybe she was stalling to avoid the high cost. But a bear-shifter? Please. Yes, they had reputations as excellent, moral business men. But her dad knew how Blake could get and why Allie shied away from shifters.

  She wanted to speak her mind but tempered herself. He was, as usual, just trying to help.

  “Dad, we talked about this.”


  “You’ve worked too hard to let –” His attention diverted to the large front window facing the street. Something had caught his eye outside. His complexion paled, his upper lip curling in distaste. “I’m disappearing now, and I was never here. Ok?”

  She whipped him a look as he slinked into the back, turning to wink at her before he disappeared beyond the double kitchen doors. Curious what had scared him off, she looked back to the windows and saw a familiar pink form walking briskly past. Allie grimaced and whispered a chant. “Please don’t come in, please don’t come in, please don’t... damn, damn, damn.”

  The bells jingled; the bells from hell. She really should have locked the door instead of welcoming customers in for coffee. Plastering on a smile, she straightened at the counter and smoothed the apron over her purple high-low skirt.

  “Morning, Marybeth.” Her tone came out pleasing enough though inside, she was fighting the urge to jump off a cliff. Her mama had always said, if you don’t feel it, fake it. Rest her soul, she’d be proud.

  Marybeth Dawson gasped and did a three-sixty, taking in the bakery’s state with a gaped mouth.

  “Oh my God, Allie Mae, what happened in here?”

  “Tornado. Came clear through.”

  Marybeth dragged a shocked look to Allie, her hand going to her chest. “A tornado in Estes Park, Colorado?”

  Allie’s face hurt from trying not to laugh. Instead, she kept the smile in place and took a breath through her nose. Marybeth was MB in Allie’s mind: Mega Bitch, and it wouldn’t be long before the ex-Mayor’s wife started living up to the moniker. Marybeth broke out of her stupor and approached the counter. She placed one hand with perfectly pink fingernails on the top and began to drum them like the claws they were. Claws she wanted to sink into Benjamin Rowe in the worst possible way.

  “I saw Benny come in. Where is he?”

  Benny. Jesus Christ. The man was sixty-two years old and built like a brick shit house.

  “I’m afraid he’s already left. Is there something I can help you with?”

  Marybeth gave a dismissive chuckle. “Yes, I’d like to speak to Benny and I’m sure you know just where to find him.”

  He’s eagerly hiding in hell along with the bells above my door.

  “I’m not sure where he went. He’s left his cell phone behind, as usual.”

  Allie slowly pulled a phone from her apron pocket, not caring that it was hers and not her dad’s. Like MB would know. Except that she always seemed to know everything, about everyone, before they even knew it themselves. She was the Queen of Everyone’s Damn Business— her father’s words— and heaven help you if you didn’t give the woman what she wanted. She had no qualms about sticking some dirty business on you and letting the town know about it, true or not.

  Marybeth’s bubblegum claws walked over to the extra coffee cup sitting close to Allie’s. Allie winced a little. Shit.

  “Darling, I know business isn’t good enough that you need two cups of coffee to keep up. I mean, look at this shithole. I heard wild animals did a number on the place, but seriously.”

  Allie cleared her throat and slid her father’s coffee toward her cup. She snaked both cups off the counter and put them on the table by the register, hoping that when she turned back around, Pink Powderpuff would be gone. The drum of pointed tips on glass said otherwise.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I think the ripping and shredding and destruction add a little something special to the place, don’t you?”

  “You know Allie Mae, I’m here to place a rather large order of things for my moonlight garden party, and it would be prudent of you to watch yourself. Or I might have to go down the street to Bella Blu and see what they’ll do for me.”

  Oh, I couldn’t be so lucky, Allie thought. She glanced at the waded-up bank note on the floor by her feet and clenched her jaw. Marybeth’s moonlight party was a big deal. Half of Estes Park and Denver came— well, anyone with money, basically.

  Bella Blu was a hundred-year old cornerstone and was always getting the bigger orders. Competing with the well-known bakery was hard as hell. And she needed the cash.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  Marybeth smiled wide, causing the powder on her face to crack into her laugh lines. “Well, I’m not sure. I’m thinking some petit fours, and those decadent lemon cupcakes with the pink frosting.”

  “Raspberry frosting.”

  “Mmmm-hmm. Delightful. However, I’d only be able to place an order of, say, two hundred to start if Benny were available to escort me for the evening.”

  Allie drew in a breath through her nose and forced her expression to stay relaxed. Her dad had been very clear to Marybeth that he wasn’t interested in her advances, yet the widow pursued Ben like he was the very breath she needed to live. It would have been kind of sweet if she wasn’t so creepy in her persistence.

  “I can’t really speak for my father, Marybeth. But I’ll be sure to let him know.”

  The older woman looked Allie up and down before she turned away. “You do that.”

  Allie let out a breath, waiting for the woman to leave. But right before she got to the door, MB stopped and glanced up. She pointed above the window and turned to Allie with a disgusted expression.

  “Allie Mae, what on earth is that?”

  Allie cocked her head to see better. A long, thin, blackish line settled in the crease where the wall met the ceiling.

  “Is that... is that mold?” The older woman gasped.

  A cold chill went over her spine. No, no, no. The Universe wouldn’t be that horrible, would it?

  MB and her huge, gossipy mouth would tell everyone that Sticky Sweet was contaminated or something. She was already up to her eyeballs in debt trying to keep this place open; she couldn’t afford to lose business. She grappled for something to say that would hold Marybeth off, but nothing came to mind.

  Jesus, what else could go wrong today?

  “Allie?” The woman demanded.

  “It’s... it’s just...”

  A loud sound came from the ceiling, making Allie jump. Pausing at the unfamiliar noise, she listened to the patter and creak coming from above. It got louder, like something rolling or running from one side of the ceiling to another. A sinking feeling welled in her middle. Holy shit, what was that?

  Suddenly, a loud pop burst through the air. Allie cried out as the sprinkler system let loose and cold water rained down. Her arms went out in shock, her mouth a frozen, “O.” Marybeth screamed and ran out the door, hollering something about her silk blouse and a lawsuit.

  Still in shock, Allie slowly covered her head with her hands as if to stave off the torrent. Water pooled on the floor and bounced off the display cases. The walls began to darken with moisture.

  Anger welled in her chest and bubbled out her throat in a garbled cry. “Great! Just one more thing to add to the Loser Allie List, damn it!”

  That’s it. She couldn’t take another complication. Wiping her face, she tried to remember where the control was for the sprinkler system when a shadow blocked the doorway that Marybeth’s panicked exit had left wide open.

  Allie blinked. Once. Twice.

  A man large enough to take up nearly the entire doorframe stood inside getting pelted by the spray. Instead of consternation, he had a look of pure enjoyment on his face as if he was out frolicking in the rain instead of standing under a torrent. Dark hair slicked against his head and curled at the base of his neck. His red tee shirt slowly plastered by degrees to his body, revealing dips and lines of muscle and perfectly structured anatomy, inch by inch.

  Her mouth fell open, the cold water suddenly needed to cool the flush that ran over her from head to toe.

  Allie forgot to breathe.

  He smiled and ran a hand over his forehead to push back his hair. Sky-blue eyes bored into hers, their corners crinkled with humor, his smile falling to a cocky grin.

  “Staring costs extra, sweetheart.”

  Chapter Two

  W
ell, well, well. This job just might not suck ass after all.

  Dax Mitchell roved the hot little blonde with an eager gaze. His heart did an odd flip-flop thing and banged hard against his chest. Huh. Must be the coolness of the water beating down on him, making his adrenaline surge.

  She had a pin-up body if he ever saw one. The tie of the apron around her waist gave her a perfect hourglass figure, the rise of her plump breasts pushing against the top. The water? Hell, yeah, it soaked the thin fabric, making it cling to those perfect mounds even more. Her left upper arm was covered with a tattoo of orange hibiscus flowers and silvery stars, and a tiny nose piercing glittered in the light.

  The shifter in him couldn’t look away. Both his bear and his human sides thought she was stunning.

  Damn, this was a good day.

  Before he could introduce himself, the woman’s pretty face skewed and she rolled her brown eyes.

  “Seriously? That’s the line you’re going with?”

  She hurried behind a set of stainless steel doors and he couldn’t help but enjoy the sway of her hips as she went. Dax followed as far as the counter. A moment later, the sprinklers hissed, and the water trickled to a stop.

  She came back out with a thick towel in one hand, placed another on the counter and began blotting her hair. Despite being wet, her hair was starting to curl at the ends.

  “Can I help you?” The flat tone to her voice screamed annoyance.

  Dax flashed her a smile. He was dripping a bit himself. “Got another towel?”

  “No.”

  His eyebrows raised. “No?”

  He appreciated her spunk, and honestly, it was the only reason he was still standing here. That, and the fact that his father had strong-armed him into coming. His dad loved Sticky Sweet Bakery’s maple sticky buns and jumped at the chance when the bakery called for help. Mitchell Construction, to the rescue, despite that they exclusively did corporate work now. Oh, the power of baked goods to help the little guy, apparently.

  Her hands slapped against her hips in a helpless gesture before she tossed the extra towel at him. Dax caught it with one hand. Her expression fell as a distinctive tremble claimed her lower lip.