How the Cookie Crumbles by Jaime Samms

Author:Jaime Samms [Samms, Jaime]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Riptide Publishing
Published: 2016-01-07T00:00:00+00:00

Frederic got to the shop sweaty and out of breath. No Blaire. Figured. He must have been right about the plethora of baked goods, then. Ordered by Blaire, tossed God only knew where—into the sound, for all Frederic knew—and why? So Frederic was forced to take his money, so Blaire could stop feeling guilty that Frederic had basically lost everything in that fiasco his television network called reality cooking.

Wolf’s Landing had more real about it than Bake Me a Cake ever did. With shaking hands, Frederic got his door unlocked and slipped inside, locking it again behind him. He had hours of work to do before he could open, and two cakes to plan and have ready for Saturday. And no one—no one—to help him.

Not five minutes after he opened the shop a few hours later, it was full, mostly with Wolf’s Landing crew. He wasn’t surprised. Alicia had mentioned lots of last-minute night shoots, taking advantage of the fog lying low over the water as the sun came up. The fog had burned away by now, though, and the crew, apparently, was starved. He got them all served and seated before his regulars threaded through the crowded tables for their own treats on their way to work. He had plenty to keep his mind busy and off the deception Blaire had perpetrated.

“Hi.” The young man who scuttled up to the counter as Frederic rang out the last of his mini lemon cakes—they had gone fast today—looked like a miniature, but fairer, version of Blaire. His buttoned-down look didn’t say suave, like Blaire’s did, though. It said . . . sycophant. It said this kid was trying way too hard. Frederic scowled just before he caught himself.

“Can I help you?” he asked, as pleasantly as possible.

“I hope so.” He handed a piece of paper across the counter. It looked like it had been balled up, and the attempt to smooth it out had failed pretty miserably. The kid blushed. “Sorry about that. Boss didn’t give me time to reprint it. Said I had to get it down here to make sure you got it in time to get it done. He’s having an important thing tomorrow night. Some sort of planning meeting for a big party he’s giving Friday night. He needs these—” he pointed at a short list on the sheet apart from the rest “—ready to be picked up at five tomorrow, and the rest is for Friday night’s little ball thingy.”

Frederic eyed the guy, with his chic-messy hair and dark, serious eyes. “Who’s your boss?”

The kid straightened and preened a bit. “Blaire Caruthers. Executive prod—”

“I know who he is.” Frederic shoved the page back toward the young man. “He can take his business elsewhere.”

The kid stared at him. “I— He— I—”

Frederic held the page, just touching the man’s lapel, and waited for him to take it.

“I can’t tell him that!” the kid said, his voice a squeaking whisper.

“Why not?” Frederic dropped the page onto the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.

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