Chapter 1

“I’m so proud of you, Ally. You’re really doing this.”

“It’s been a long time coming,” I murmured, tucking a strand of pale blonde hair behind my ear. I’d wrapped myself in one of those toasty wool ponchos and taken up residence at the front of my new bakery with a mug of hot cocoa sandwiched between my torso and palm.

Snow drifted down from the heavens, blanketing everything in a veil of freshness. Of renewal. Like my life.

“So, that’s it then. Bakery up and running, professional career on track, all you need now is—”

I interrupted Kelly before she hit her stride, giving her a warning grunt. “Don’t even.”

She sighed, a deep exhalation that caused static to crackle into my phone. “Aw, come on, let me set you up with someone. I’ve lost count of the hot guys who walk through our front doors. And it’s Christmas. You can’t spend the holiday season alone.”

“I’m not alone, I have you and Pat. Besides, Kels, I’m going to be so busy with business, I won’t have time for a social life.”

I could almost hear Kelly rolling her eyes. “Ugh, famous last words.”

She was my best friend and had been since I’d moved to Minneapolis from Bemidji and wandered into their coffee shop two years ago. She and her husband, Pat, had taken me under their wing. Those had been strange times, before my break up with Matthew. When I’d had nothing to show for myself. A shiver ran through me at the memory.

Kelly had encouraged me to pursue my dreams.

“Ally?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m here.”

“You went quiet for a second there.”

A wave of gratitude washed over me. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Kels, you and Pat.”

“Well, you’d be up shit creek without a paddle, of course.”

I chuckled. “I’d better get some rest, big day tomorrow. These bank loans won’t pay themselves off.”

“Tell me about it,” she replied, then paused, the silence stretching out for a few seconds. “If you need help with anything, give me a call.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, then stuck my tongue out even though she couldn’t see me. “See you tomorrow.”

“Later Allygator,” she said, then hung up.

I put my phone in the pocket of my jeans and sighed. This was it, my first real endeavor at being my own damn person. I glanced around the bakery and grinned. Hard to believe where I’d landed from where I’d jumped.

I picked out the décor myself — it had a burlesque atmosphere, with velvet cushions on the wrought iron chairs and round tables with glass tops. Very French bistro. In fact, in better weather, I could easily move a couple of tables outside.

Silk floral arrangements in lush shades of purple, strung with Swarovski crystals served as centerpieces. The cupcakes would stand up front in the glass front counter, to showcase their sexy designs. And names.

Kelly had rolled her eyes at my idea for a racy theme, but it was tough being an entrepreneur and a woman in business had to face the facts. Sex sells.

That was the thing about baking, it wasn’t sexy unless you made it that way. And I planned on making it damn sexy. And licking the bowl.

I slurped down the dregs of my cocoa and carried the mug through to my new kitchen. Sure, most of the stuff was second hand, but it was still my kitchen and I’d scrubbed and polished until you could see your reflection mirrored in the stainless steel.

I trailed my fingers over the countertops, the Kenwood K-mix, and eyed the shelves with pride. I put up most of them myself, wielding my cordless drill. The work had taken my mind off Matthew.

Rinsing out my mug, I yawned and shrugged my shoulders as exhaustion threatened to overtake me. I glanced at the staircase in the back, beside the door to the pantry, knowing I’d get to use them soon.

The wooden steps led upstairs, to my tiny apartment above. Time to get a little rest. It was already past nine and I’d be up at the butt crack of dawn to get baking. I actually tingled with excitement at the thought. Tomorrow was a Red Velvet Rapture kind of a day.

I strolled up the stairs and smiled at my cat, Codsworth, curled up on the sectional I’d pushed against one wall. He’d adapted nicely to the change too. I stroked him behind the ears, then headed to the bedroom and settled on the edge of my queen bed. What was the use of a king-size when there was no one to share it with?

I brushed my teeth and glanced in the mirror at the green eyes staring back. My porcelain complexion held on to the dark circles of my recent fatigue and I resembled a raccoon. Too many long nights. Turning to the side, I sighed as I took in the curvy body I’d always resented because it would never be thin and stylish. Probably needed to lay off the taste testing in the kitchen. I rinsed, splashed cold water on my face and then tied my long, wavy blonde hair up in a ponytail holder. The book I’d started months ago and still hadn’t finished beckoned to me from my nightstand. Maybe just one chapter.

I shook my head, then rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. Or, was it stinging? I stopped and sniffed. A strange smell burned my nostrils and coated the back of my throat. Kind of like an open campfire. Did the neighbors have a chimney or a fireplace or something? Were they burning trash? I hurried over to the window and opened it, then peered out into the alley. Nope, no smoke billowing into the night sky above.

So where had it—?

“Oh, shit,” I murmured “Son of a bitch. No, no, no, no.”

I darted out of the bedroom, past Codsworth and down the stairs. The smell of burning intensified and as I got closer, the heat brought a new flush to my already scorching cheeks. I burst into the kitchen, praying to God for a miracle but my bubbling nausea told a different tale.

One of the ovens had caught fire!

Crackling flames had overtaken it already. They caught the edge of my favorite apron and made their way over the counter. I gagged on the smoke, eyes burning, tears streaming down my face from the fumes. Fear pushed me forward into the danger as I began to see my entire life about to go up in flames.

How had this happened? So fast too, one second there was nothing, now half of my kitchen was on fire. I couldn’t see a thing.

I ripped my cell out of my pocket and hurried to the front of the bakery.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

“There’s a fire!” I choked out as I swallowed hard and about coughed up a lung. I stood in the thick of it, struck dumb by panic. And terror. “A fire, there’s a fire in my bakery.”

“What is your location, miss?”

“I’m at—” I broke off and hacked again. The front room had filled with smoke too. The temperature was sweltering. God, my bakery, this couldn’t be happening.

“Please repeat that,” the operator said, cool as a damn cucumber.

I spluttered and coughed. “1020 E Franklin. Please hurry!”

“I’ve dispatched an ambulance and firetruck to your location. Can you stay on the line for me, miss?”

“I — I don’t know,” I said. My limbs had started to go numb and I struggled to draw breath into my already smoky lungs. The entire bakery was covered in a grey haze. I couldn’t get clean air; I couldn’t see. I grasped the doorjamb and glared at the front door. I should get out. Fresh air. Yes. There was no fire out there.

I took a step towards the door.

Codsworth!

I couldn’t leave him behind; he was family. I turned and stumbled back into the kitchen as sweat erupted from my skin, then evaporated immediately in the oppressive heat. I held my hand up to shield my eyes, but it was no use. I rubbed at them, stumbling away from the flaming kitchen, in the direction of the stairs at the back.

My knee struck something hard and pain lanced through my leg as I fell to the floor. There the smoke was thinner, but the heat felt almost worse. My lungs screamed for oxygen and I could do nothing but inhale. More smoke. More fire. More everything.

“Codsworth!” I cried out, crawling to the steps.

Just before I reached them, the kitchen faded from grey to black.