Chapter One
“What’s up, man?” Staff Sergeant Jacob Pye tossed his duffle bag into the back of his truck and answered his phone. “Been gone half a day and you miss me already?”
His best friend and battle buddy, Chance Donovan, snorted into the receiver. “Well, I did miss out on giving you a hug before you left on your cozy, little vacation.”
Vacation. He rolled his eyes and started the truck, leaning back for a moment and listening to his best friend talk about wussies pretending they had to stay home from school and begging mommy for cookies. He couldn’t help but laugh when Chance’s voice took on a higher pitch. “Here you go, Jakey Wakey. You just sit your lazy ass in that bed while I give you snacks. Leave the work to the real men.”
“You done yet, asshole?” Jacob grinned into the receiver.
“Yeah, it won’t be for long. Masterson just wants you to take a break for a few weeks. Get your head out of the game for a bit, you know.”
“So they can make sure I’m not going to go trigger happy in the middle of a mission and kill someone. Yeah.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was my squad, my responsibility, my choice to enter through the west.”
“Well, it’s my job now, Staff Sergeant Dickhead. Go chill out for a few weeks, get laid, get your head back on straight, and come back ready to go.”
His friend always knew how to read him. Jacob didn’t want to be coddled, or looked at with pity, treated like a damn puppy. He wanted—he needed—to be pummeled hard in the shoulder a few times, told to get his head out of his ass, and told to get the fuck moving. Yeah, he needed to be needed. And his best friend, ever since they met seven years ago as green recruits at Fort Bragg, knew it.
“So, while you’re on that nice, little holiday Finding Jacob mission, how about a detour?” Chance’s voice suddenly took on a serious tone. “I could use your help with something.”
“Where do you want me?”
“Greenville, South Carolina.”
“Your hometown?” Jacob furrowed his brow and reached for the map in his glove compartment.
“I’d like you to drop by and check in on Cherry for me.”
“You want me to drive—” He did the quick mental computation in his head. “—one hundred forty-six miles to pop in and say hello to your little sister?”
Chance’s annoying, but hot younger sister. Full bodied, with curves that screamed, dimples in her pale cheeks, flaming red hair, straight, perfect white teeth. Jacob had seen a few pictures and heard about the adored, younger sister enough times over the past five years, he felt he knew the woman. And Chance knew that. However, Chance didn’t know how many times Jacob had pumped himself dry while thinking of the lovely, young twenty-two-year-old. Yeah, some things were better left unsaid between friends. Especially friends that carried a Gerber knife and a Cold Steel Recon Tanto in their cargo pockets and could kill you in your sleep with one slice from either blade.
He cleared his throat. “Why do you want me to check in on her?”
“She’s playing it light, like it’s not a big deal. But she has this douchebag she just broke up with. God, he was an ass. It’s been over for a few months, but she’s started receiving weird as shit messages. She doesn’t think it’s anything big, but my gut is screaming at me.”
Jacob frowned deeply and pressed the receiver hard against his ear. Chance’s gut instincts had saved their lives more times than he could count.
“Okay, so stop my booty call on the Florida beaches, and head north to Bumfuckville to check in on little sis.” He knew his sarcasm was at an all-time high. It had been steadily getting worse each day since that last mission. Usually, his assholish sarcastic side was diffused by humor and laughing. Lots of laughing. When was the last time he had laughed? Now he just sounded like an asshole. “Sorry, man, I’m on it. I’ll be there by tonight.”
A loud, relieved exhale came across the line. “Thanks, man. I’ll call and tell her you need a place to rack out for a week. She has an apartment with an extra loft above her bakery and can let you stay there.”
“You know she’s going to think you’re trying to set us up.” The last thing he needed was to be set up with his best friend’s clumsy, flaky—albeit, sexy—younger sister. He could tell Chance adored her by the way he always described her. Chance was very protective of her. He bit back a laugh. It would make sense if Chance was trying to steer Jacob away these past few years, as protection from Jacob’s ‘player’ ways. Jacob had never found that one woman who could meet him stride for stride. Strong, smart, witty—able to banter and engage in a silly moment. No, the women he met on base didn’t cut it for him. And women off base? They had always agreed to meet each other’s needs in a different way.
But Jake was getting tired of sex and meaningless relationships. When was the last time he had laughed? Like really laughed so hard his whole body hurt? It had been far too long. Before he took over the squad. Before London and MacAvoy. Before he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Yeah, maybe he did need a break. And even if Chance’s sister was an annoying flake, maybe he’d get one good smile out of it. Now, if she did turn out to be halfway decent looking…
“You hurt her…” His best friend’s growled warning brought him back into the moment quickly.
“Got it.”
“Just let her think whatever she wants to think. Your job is to investigate the threat and eliminate it. Check?”
“Received, loud and clear. There goes my vacation.” He grumbled and pulled his truck onto the highway, heading north.
“You didn’t need a vacation, dumb shit. You need to be working and kicking ass, not being treated like you scraped your fucking knee, and want a kiss to make it better.”
Jacob laughed. “So you won’t kiss my booboo?” “Say that to my face when you get back.”
“Okay, okay. Try not to screw up my squad while I’m gone. Text me her address. Next stop, I’ll see how close I am. Make sure she’s okay with me staying.”
“Will do. J?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks, man. I owe you one.”
The line on his side went dead, and Jacob pushed end and placed it next to him in the console. Wow, his friend must be serious about him looking into his sister’s stuff. Chance didn’t normally sound so touchy feely. It still didn’t seem like a big deal and would probably end up being high school idiots playing pranks. But it would give him something to do for a while. And he could finally come face to face with the woman from his one-handed dreams. Now he just had to remind his cock to play nice. This wasn’t that kind of trip.
~.~
Cherry Donovan fumed as she paced the floor in the little kitchen of her bakery, Cherry’s Tarts. She almost slipped on a patch of meringue on the floor left over from Mrs. Hutchinson’s order, and grabbed at the corner of the baking island to stop herself from falling flat on her booty. Stupid, Neanderthal, over-protective older brother! She glared at her cell phone sitting quietly on top of the back counter, mocking her. Waiting for her to turn her back on it, to check on something else, then it would begin that annoying music to alert her to Chance’s call.
Right before he left for his next military rotation—round, maneuver—whatever you called it when you disappeared and went all James Bond-like for a few months—he had changed the ringtone on her cell. Now whenever he called her, she heard the loud thumping bass, followed by Here comes the Boom. She could picture that goofy grin and playful spark in his eyes each time the music came on. He knew he was a badass, and he always made sure everyone else knew it, too—especially her potential boyfriends.
Well, as soon as Cherry figured out how to do something besides working the power and text features, she was fixing that ringtone. Yeah! She donned a pair of heavy oven mitts before carefully taking out the red velvet cupcakes for Mrs. Johnson’s order. As soon as she learned how to work the little piece of tech devilry, she was going to change her ringtone on Chance’s phone. “I’m a little teapot” and that “Barney” song were at the top of her list. Maybe next time Chance visited, she could just pay a third grader to do his phone for her. Cupcake for some tech support? Worked for her.
She placed the red velvet cupcakes onto the cooling rack and carried the vanilla ones over to the other side of the baking island careful to step over the slippery spot she still hadn’t de- goopified. So, why did Chance want his buddy to stay in her loft for a week? She scooped the fudge frosting into her piping bags and prepared to start her favorite task of the process—decorating!
Jacob was his best friend from basic training, and they had gone on to a new unit together. She had heard enough tales about this man to think he was some sort of God or something. And Chance already had the Hey, I’m Narcissus, here hold my mirror while I go do something awesome vibe going on. Cherry loved her big brother, and he loved her. But even though Chance was only a year and a half older than her, he still treated her like some vulnerable weakling that couldn’t take care of herself. It pissed her off when he came storming in to protect her like some knight in camouflaged armor, with perfectly done, yeah, I just rolled out of bed, and didn’t spend an hour to make it look this bad ass hair. Like at prom? Hello! He had just stormed over and slammed her date up against the side of his car and started pummeling him. Granted, that jerk had ripped her dress while not taking No for an answer. But that wasn’t the issue. If Chance had stopped long enough from his protector duties, he would have seen the tears streaming down the loser’s face from the combination of the pepper spray and the groin kick she had expertly delivered. She hadn’t needed her brother’s help.
And she didn’t need it now. Brandon—the latest of her bad choices for boyfriends, as Chance repeatedly reminded her—was out of the picture. He had seemed so nice, so accommodating and pleasant, so humble and gracious. The complete opposite of her overbearing brother. Brandon had made the occasional snarky comment about her weight, but she usually blew it off. She liked herself, and that was what mattered. Then she made the mistake of telling Brandon her secret desire to add some kink into their sexual routine—that she wanted him to spank her— and he was done. His forehead had crinkled with those weird lines, and he had let out a little indignant squeak and told her that wasn’t what normal people did in bed.
If that didn’t convey his thoughts on the matter, his ignoring her texts and calls over the next few weeks had. And then he came into her shop to order a birthday cake for his new girlfriend, Beth, a stick thin, gorgeous brunette who asked for a gluten free, vegan, non-GMO, no artificial dyes cake without frosting. And he just smiled at her and said, “Yes, Cherry, think you can whip us up one?”
His new girlfriend giggled. “Or maybe she can beat the eggs a bit extra. She probably knows a thing or two about heavy cream.”
The dig at her weight had not gone unnoticed.
Fists clenched tightly inside her apron, Cherry had pasted a smile on her face, and told them, “I’m sorry, I’m a bit too busy for special orders. But as soon as I am able to do orders for small goods, I can let you know. I’ve always liked working with all sizes, but unfortunately, I don’t have the time for something so little. And you know what they say, size really does make a difference. Thank you for stopping by.”
The brunette did a wide-eyed sweep up and down Brandon’s body, before sputtering and stalking out the door.
Brandon was so red-faced, he stood there fuming as Mrs. Johnson, the seventy-five-year-old woman from down the street, promptly came up and ordered two dozen red velvet cupcakes to be picked up Thursday at six pm.
“Fifty-four years of marriage to my Bo, and red velvet cake has always been a hit in my house.” She grinned. “And small goods have never been part of our home. I’ll be back every Thursday.” The older lady winked at her before smiling broadly at Cherry’s still red-faced mouth- opened-into-an-O ex-boyfriend and sauntered past him with a skip.
Cherry hadn’t heard from Brandon after that.
But last month, she had started seeing broken packages on her doorstep, and the occasional weird email or dropped phone call from numbers she didn’t recognize. Surely, Brandon wouldn’t be that off-balanced as to stalk her because of that? He was the one who ended things and had acted like a jerk.
Cherry finished frosting the cupcakes and started dumping handfuls of Oreos onto the tiny cakes. The school kids loved the dirt and worm cupcakes the best, so she always tried to keep extras on hand.
Chance’s phone call earlier, asking her to host his buddy had thrown her off. Surely, he wasn’t sending his buddy in to protect her from an angry ex who might possibly be sending her hate mail with magazine cut-out letters, and trashing her packages, right?
So if that wasn’t it, maybe he was trying to set her up with his friend. He seemed to genuinely like the guy. She hadn’t ever seen any pictures of Jacob, but she envisioned him as tall, muscular, handsome, and cocky, kind of like the military heroes in all the latest movies. Scott Eastwood sprang into her mind. Yeah, kinda like that. Which meant he was totally out of her league. Guys like that didn’t go for extremely curvy—okay, who was she kidding? Overweight— chicks who were messy all day. Well, her baked goods really did bring the boys to the yard. Her muffins, cakes and cookies were the best in town, and soon she would need a bigger store. She’d probably have to move. But right now, she was at that fun place where she had more work than she could do, but not quite enough to afford hiring someone. But soon.
The plastic, red box of gummy worms sat on the far counter. Furrowing her brow, she took them over to the baking island and tried to remember when she had moved them. But she really hadn’t been paying attention this morning. Maybe she set them there when she was talking to Chance? She really needed to start paying better attention, or she’d lose her keys again. Last week, she had lost her whole ring of keys, including the ones to her bakery and her apartment, and had panicked. But she finally found them lying next to the dumpster out back. They must have fallen out of her pocket when she had taken the garbage out the night before. Well, she would start paying better attention to her surroundings.
Her thoughts drifted to the man Chance was trying to send her way. Chance said he was the leader of his squad, so that meant methodical, prepared, calculating, assessing. He probably had contingencies for his contingencies. And being a leader of a team of men that sometimes went into dangerous situations, he probably didn’t laugh much. He most likely buried whatever sense of humor he had when he’d received his last rank. A sexy, stern, brooding soldier would make her work environment a lot more interesting. Eye candy while she baked. He probably wouldn’t make decent conversation and wouldn’t share her joy of stupid, old movies, but hey, eye candy still counted for something. And she was a bit lonely.
She’d have to try to talk to herself a bit less while he was there. Yes, she had named her baking helpers. The oven was Zoot. The very wicked, evil, naughty Zoot, when she burned her favorite oatmeal cookies. Her favorite icing spatula was Elaine. Her favorite cake pan was Fairy Godmother—from Ella Enchanted, not Cinderella. And the sink was Inigo. “You dirtied all the dishes in the kitchen. Prepare to die!” Okay, she’d tone it back on the talking out loud.
Dang it, if Chance was trying to set her up, she was going to have words for him when they next spoke. She didn’t need a pity date from a hottie, awesome Army dude, who would set her panties on fire, and then leave the scene shortly after.
She stared at the bubbles frothing around Inigo, and reached in and grabbed a few of the cool, gooey worms from her gummy worm box. Next week, she’d get them out onto the counter sooner. The cupcake was moving in the corner of her field of vision. She looked at the teeming brown mass of wrigglers on her glorious creation, at the same time her right hand registered the cool, slimy movement.
Worms!
She shrieked and knocked the box to the floor. Real worms were burrowing into her dirt and worms cupcake, and the floor was now a squirming with what she had thought was her cupcake toppings. She shuddered and flicked the last grubby, little guy off her wrist, and he landed squarely onto a glop of chocolate frosting.
Here comes the Boom shrilled from her cell phone, and she wrenched it up to her ear. “Yes, okay. Fine! He can stay for a week in exchange for some help around the shop.” Jacob could do the yucky cleaning up, while she baked. It could work. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just an issue with my, um, worms.”
She gingerly stepped over the tiny wrigglers and listened to Chance explain when the guy was coming, he wouldn’t be in the way, yadda yadda, and that he would text her a pic of his buddy, so she wouldn’t let the wrong guy in. Right, because she was such an idiot, she would just open her door for the first cute guy that looked like an Army dude, and just hand him a key to her place, without confirming, something like, yeah, his name! She was about to tell her dorky brother to lighten up and stop coddling her when her foot squished through the puddle of yellow she had forgotten from earlier, and she yipped and landed flat on her back.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” she groaned and rolled over to sit next to the meringue, still watching her wriggling floor. “Meringue and worms are trying to kill me. But I’ll live.”
“Just eat it, and you’ll feel better.”
Ugh, her stomach rolled. Not gonna happen. “Yeah, okay, thanks. When is he coming?”
“He should be there before eleven. I’ll send you a pic.”
She thanked him, told him she loved him and hung up. Next up, worm removal, and making a new batch of cupcakes. She couldn’t sell dirt and worm cupcakes to customers. At least not this kind.
And then she was heading to Papa Gio’s for chicken parmesan. A nice, quiet meal before her new guest arrived sounded like the perfect way to wind down after her stressful day.