Chapter 1
Vivian
7:42 a.m.
I run through my checklist again, re-ticking each item with my freshly sharpened pencil.
Stock napkin dispensers? Check.
Fill milk and cream carafes? Check.
Update chalkboard sign with special of the week? Check.
Today is the big day and it has to go off without a hitch. Gray pubes, notwithstanding. As much as I’d love to hide out under my blanket and mope about this morning’s rough start, there are more pressing matters at hand.
The Broken Cupcake finally reopens its doors today. After the original location burned to the ground, Reese and I immediately sprang into action to get it up and running again. It took longer than expected but the day is finally here and as soon as the clock strikes 8:00, we'll be open for business. Because of the troubling discovery I made in the shower a few hours ago, the success of this event is more important than ever. My body may be rebelling against me. The other side of my bed may be cold. But this cupcake shop works. And I'll do what I have to do to protect that.
I tuck the clipboard under my arm and stand back, canvassing the space one more time. Pink-framed photos of fresh fruit and decadent desserts line the whitewashed brick walls. The concrete floors have been buffed to perfection. The spotless, white counters gleam. Vibrant succulents line the edge of the large picture window overlooking the strip mall’s sidewalk. Cushy pink chairs surround the shabby wooden tables. The bakery's decor is a cozy (and very deliberate) combination of rustic-artisanal and chic.
Our realtor did some hardcore pitching to get me to agree to this new location because initially, I wasn't sold. Our previous location had been in the heart of town, between the flower shop and the jewelry store. Now, we're in a strip mall a block from Town Square, sandwiched between the second-hand bookstore and an empty space with newspaper covering the windows. There's also a butcher shop, a pizzeria and a drug store at the other end of the strip. The surrounding businesses tend to attract a lot of traffic so I'm optimistic that we'll be able to convert some of that traffic into cupcake enthusiasts. Despite our limited budget, I've put an aggressive plan in place for that purpose. I've got a few hundred flyers printed out, I've got a stack of business cards in each of the neighboring shops and I've got a chalkboard sign announcing our grand opening in the hopes of luring people in the front door. All those things working together should help us to quickly gain some traction.
Reese is at the display case artfully arranging the cupcakes beneath the glass. She grins excitedly. “Looks good, huh?”
My chest swells with pride as I nod. I love this business. We started it together with an investment from our parents three years ago. Reese is a talented baker who has a way of bringing out the rich aromas and flavors of even the most basic ingredients. Her creations are mouth-watering and downright irresistible. It’s a miracle that I still have a waistline after working with her for the past few years.
Anyway, talent alone isn't enough to make a business successful. That’s where I come in. I'm a good baker too, but that's not where my true strength lies. I'm the queen of planning and execution. Reese and our brother, Charlie, make fun of my love of making lists, devising strategies and analyzing data. They say I’m anal-retentive. But all great business endeavors are the result of meticulous planning. And I want the Broken Cupcake to be a great endeavor.
Besides, nothing pushes my hot buttons like project planning. Progress reports, time management and financial projections. Ooh, baby. Talk dirty to me.
Sadie comes out of the kitchen, shaking her butt and humming enthusiastically as pop music bleeds out of her earbuds. She’s got an empty coffee urn tucked under her arm and she’s pounding the top like a drum. Reese giggles. Apparently, this kind of behavior is funny.
“Oh I love that song,” my sister squeals. Of course, now she’s dancing, too. The two of them are flapping their arms, slamming their bums into each other and singing the lyrics to some song I've never heard before. I don't listen to the garbage on Top 40 radio so I'm not familiar. But I'm definitely annoyed.
“Are we all ready to open?” I bark in irritation. This is not the time to be fooling around.
Sadie flashes me an oopsie! look. “Just making the coffee now.” She scrambles to get some coffee beans into the machine.
I check the watch on my wrist. The coffee should have been started at least five minutes ago. “People are gonna be coming through the door in matter of minutes.”
Reese’s eyes roll in their sockets like a chameleon as she comes around the counter. “Can you please stop being so Vivian about this?” She hiccups a laugh. “I get it. You’ve got opening day jitters. I do, too. But it’ll be fine.” She snatches up the chalkboard sign leaned against the wall and bumps her hip into mine. “We’ve got this!”
Reese is happy. She's always happy. Especially these days. All is well in her world. She just got engaged to a warm, kind, ridiculously handsome man…She has an adorable stepson…She doesn’t have a gray bush, I’m sure…
Grunting under my breath, I follow after her as she gleefully hops out onto the sidewalk. The aroma of brown sugar, nutmeg and cinnamon travels behind us. Reese haphazardly plops down the sign into the middle of the sidewalk. It reads; Cupcake of the week: Pumpkin-Maple. Grab your free sample during opening week.
When I bend forward to angle the board properly for optimal exposure, she growls peevishly. "Leave it alone, Vivian. It’s fine the way it is." She grabs me by the wrist, about to pull me back inside. That’s when Cleo’s flashy Mercedes rolls into the parking lot of the strip mall.
The car screeches to a stop then our realtor and her ex-husband/new boyfriend/baby daddy (don’t ask!) step out. Cleo stretches a giant bouquet of colorful balloons out to me. I take the balloons from her and fasten them to the hinges of the sidewalk sign as she whips off her big sunglasses, fluffs up her hair and gushes about how good the baked treats smell, even from outside. Beaming, Reese ushers the couple into the bakery to give them a mini tour of our new facilities.
We invited some special guests for a first look at the new place. I convinced Reese that having a little gathering to mark our reopening was a good idea. That way, when the first paying customers of the day show up, the cupcake shop will already be packed, giving off the impression that our bakery is the place to be.
Within a matter of minutes, our distinguished invitees have arrived. Some of our good friends from the fire department and police force. Mr. Farlow and his interns from the local newspaper. Pastor Becker and his wife, Blythe, who run the women’s shelter where I volunteer once a week. My sister’s fiancé, Leo, and his son, Brenton. My brother, Charlie, and his girlfriend, Nova.
Slipping seamlessly into the role of the gracious hostess, I mingle with the crowd, dropping in on each conversation in turn. Cleo’s telling the story of the grumpy, new tenant who’ll be opening a barbershop next door to the bakery. Yippie! Can you feel my excitement?! Officer Riggs is talking about some crazy woman who tried to sweet talk him into opening a closed-off road for her during last winter's biggest snow storm. Meanwhile, Blythe Becker proudly touts the political platform of her husband who will be making a bid for mayor in the upcoming local elections.
Charlie pulls me behind the cash register, making sure we’re out of earshot. He leans close to me and drops his voice. “I’m about to make it official…” A massive grin eats up half his face.
“Make what official?”
He furrows his brows at me like I’m dense. “Me and Nova. I’m gonna make it official…” He angles his head suggestively.
“What?” He’s not saying what I think he’s saying, is he?
His eyes leap to where Nova is chatting with the other guests and then he dips his hand into his pocket.
My breath catches. “Charlie…”
He’s still grinning as he pulls out a little velvet box. He flips it open and I just about swoon at the sight of the heart-shaped solitaire diamond on a thin gold band.
The first thought in my mind bursts out of my mouth. “Is she pregnant?”
Charlie’s shoulders drop and he glares. “No, she’s not pregnant, Vivian. I resent that. Can’t a guy just be in love with his girl?” He blows out an angry breath. “Sheesh! That’s why I waited till the last minute to tell you. You always think somebody’s pregnant.”
He’s not even joking. My kid brother’s about to pop the question!
My eyes dart back to Nova just as her gaze scans longingly over my brother from across the room. She looks like she’s in agony without him within a two-yard radius. And did I mention that the two of them bumped in here earlier, hand in hand, wearing matching head-to-toe black velour tracksuits and running shoes? Yes, they’re that in love.
A smile spreads from one side of my face to the next. Wow—Charlie really has changed. If my slutty little brother can totally flip his attitude and become a one-woman man, maybe hope is not all lost for me, maybe one day I’ll be living a different life, too.
“Ooooh! I’m so proud of you!” I squeal and pull him into a hug. “She’s going to say yes.”
“I hope so.” He sounds nervous. That’s cute.
I pull away and make a grab for the ring. “Okay, let me try it on.”
He slaps my hand away and laughs. “Hell no!”
As I make another attempt to snatch the diamond, the thundering roar of a motorcycle fills the air and pulls my attention to the window. A beast of a motorcycle pulls up to the curb, all big and black and shiny. And loud. Very loud. The man hunched low on the bike swings one leg over the side and climbs off of the mammoth vehicle in a smooth, fluid movement that's almost animalistic.
He’s tall and lean with a beat-up leather jacket hugging his shoulders. And when he tucks his helmet under his arm and runs his long fingers through his dark, dishevelled hair, the hem of his T-shirt lifts ever-so-slightly. I hear a subtle gasp burst out of my mouth at the sight of his tight, inked midriff.
His eyes are on the bike, inspecting it carefully. He crouches down beside it and runs a hand along its shiny chrome finish. I get a glimpse of his profile and—wow!
This is not the type of man you see roaming the streets of Copper Heights. He's roguishly good-looking. His beauty is almost aggressive. Dark, stormy eyes. Hard, angular jaw. Firm set lips. An obvious knot on the blade of his thin nose. He's breathtakingly gruff. Every inch of him oozes sex and danger. Just one look at him, and I know. He's bad news. Every fiber of my being screams it. I wrap my arms around my torso, shivering even from behind the safety of the thick windowpane.
As he rounds the motorcycle, his heel knocks against my signboard and the A-frame topples over on the concrete, causing several of the balloons to pop. The man pauses. Glaring down at the thing, a frown line creases the space between his brows. Oh, why is that so hot?
But instead of bending down and setting it upright like any decent member of the human species, Mr. Dark and Mysterious just turns on his boot-covered heel and stomps off down the sidewalk.
A bolt of indignation snaps in my chest. Oh, hell no!
I throw a quick glance at my brother. “Hold that thought.” And before I can process what I’m doing, I’m pushing through the crowd, storming out the door and charging down the sidewalk after him.