Chapter 3
A Familiar Face …
Camille
Flour sprinkled the counter-tops and littered the floor, dirty pots and pans over-flowed from the sink, and tiny beads of sweat trickled down my back. It was our busiest day since we opened a month ago.
We still had a few minutes left before we locked the door and called it a day. In the meantime, Piper and I busily worked to bring order to the shop's chaos as quickly as we could.
And now, all I could think about was finishing up these tasks so I could count down the drawer for the moment of truth: to see if we'd managed to break even for the first time.
I finished sweeping and Piper hopped over to the dishes.
“Okay,” I said. “It's almost closing time.”
I counted up all the cash and ran the credit card numbers. Piper would never admit it, but I knew she was just as anxious as I was. We desperately wanted some sign that we were on the right path, that this business of ours would take off.
I punched the last of the numbers into a calculator.
Piper, elbow-deep in sudsy water, watched me over her shoulder.
“Well? Well?” she asked.
I sighed. “We're about a hundred short.”
Piper's face fell. “Damn.” She paused to dig her spirit out of the dumps. “Well, hey, that's still better. We're making progress, Cam.”
“Yeah …”
The shop's bells jangled as two young men opened the door. I raised my eyebrow at the sight of the stylish men in sunglasses. Both were tall and well-built and fashionably-dressed.
These two didn't look like our normal clientele. I wondered if maybe their girlfriends had sent them? One of the boys in particular seemed to have a familiar air about him. I couldn't quite place it, but as the two walked up to the counter, the feeling that I knew him grew stronger and more undeniable.
Maybe I just wish I knew him, I thought, biting my lip at the sight of his bulging muscles.
His chino shorts were salmon-pink and ended a good two or three inches above his knee—treating the world to a sneak-peek of his deliciously round and muscular thighs.
Damn, he's built.
His billowy heather-gray shirt fluttered in the draft that followed him in. The sheer shirt was half-way see-through. And thank God for that, because when his shirt caught the sunlight just right, the ridges of his hard, carved torso and mountainous pecs showed right through.
Uh. Yum.
They approached. But something about familiar-boy's cocky, perfect smile was deeply unsettling—because, strangely, that smile was the most familiar thing about him. I squinted into his opaque metallic shades, wondering about the eyes behind them.
Do I know you?
“Hi!” I said, forcing a cheer through my suspicion. I kept my eyes trained on him. “Welcome to Velvet Bakery.”
“Hey,” the other guy said first.
“Hey there,” familiar-boy said. “Wait a minute—aren't you—”
And then he pulled off his metallic shades and revealed those tenacious, slate-gray eyes.
And my guts twisted and knotted as my attraction turned to revulsion and horror.
Oh. My. God.
The theme of the day was high school flashbacks, apparently. First I wanted it, with the Pixies. But now I didn't want it, with Beau Bradford.
And I felt sick to my stomach that I almost thought he was hot a second ago.
“Rach?” Beau said with a shit-eating grin. “Rachel, is that really you?”
Piper sidled next to me. I could tell by the way she elegantly glided to the counter that she thought these two guys were hot as hell. If only she knew!
“I think you boys got the wrong girl,” Piper teased, adopting a Southern drawl for reasons that only Piper could know. She coquettishly flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I reckon there's no Rachel here.”
I gritted my teeth with embarrassment.
“No,” Beau said arrogantly, shaking his finger at me. “No, I'm pretty sure this is Rachel Kennedy. Apollo High School, St. Cloud Minnesota.”
“… And this is Beau Bradford,” I mumbled, staring daggers at my old arch-nemesis.
“Huh?” Piper dropped the accent and shot me an investigative look. “Wait, who's Rachel?”
“I am,” I admitted with a sigh. “Camille's my middle name. I always hated the name Rachel.”
Beau back-handed his buddy's chest and mumbled. “Oh, that's right, she goes by Camille now. I forgot.”
I knew this was all an act, that this run-in was not a chance encounter.
I said to Piper, “I've been going by Camille ever since middle school, but some people are apparently too meat-headed to remember simple facts.”
“Wow, so you've known this guy since middle school?” Piper mumbled as she ran her eyes up and down Beau's muscular body.
“Unfortunately,” I answered. And I didn't take my eyes off Beau either, but for different reasons entirely: you can't ever trust a snake.
Beau extended his hand to Piper over the counter, with his eyes not-so-subtly going straight to her cleavage. Ugh.
“Hi, I'm Beau Bradford,” he said, speaking smoothly and confidently. “I play hockey for the Colorado Blizzard.”
“And he's very humble about it, too,” I remarked cynically.
But Piper's jaw dropped.
“Like, pro—professional hockey?” she stammered. “In the NHL?”
“Yup.” Beau beamed proudly. “And this here's my captain, roommate on the road, buddy, and all around good guy, Hunter Rockwell.”
“Hi ladies,” Hunter said, and he extended his hand for us both to shake. For his part, he looked like he had a case of some mild regret—like he didn't want any part of this.
Beau butted in. “Hunter's a happily married man with a beautiful daughter, so don't get any ideas, Rach.”
I rolled my eyes. “Good to know you're still just as annoying as you were in middle school, Beau.”
Beau took a look around our shop, and waves of hot embarrassment rushed over me. I hated that he was here. I felt so exposed, so naked and embarrassed. This shop represented my hopes and dreams—in some way, it was a private part of myself that I didn't want to show to anyone who knew me outside these walls.
But who waltzed right in? Beau Bradford. Just so he could take delight in casting his eyes over something I never wanted him to see in the first place.
“Nice little shop you got here, Rach,” he said at last.
“Camille,” I corrected him curtly.
“Right.” He grinned at me. “So, a vegan bakery, huh.”
“Yep.”
“I had no idea people even put meat in cakes in the first place.”
I tittered at his expense. “You're such an ass. Vegan implies no animal products, not just meat. No eggs, no dairy.”
“So what do you bake with? Tree bark and mud?”
My patience was beginning to run thin. “Yeah, exactly,” I said with an eye-roll.
I stared at him while I waited for whatever dumb remark came next. His blonde hair was kept neat and tidy, with just a small swoop at his bangs. As much as it pained me to admit it, he'd filled out since our high school days and really grown into a man. A handsome man with all those classic good-looking features: the strong jawline, the rugged chin, the lovely cheek-bones.
Because of course a guy that was a total dick also had to be sinfully attractive. And mega successful in life.
I shook my head. “What did you come here for, Beau?”
“To get a taste,” he answered, and his eyes swept over my cleavage. Just a coincidence, I'm sure.
Ugh. Ew.
“… I'm going to ignore the creepy subtext and assume you meant a taste of cupcake,” I mumbled.
I slid the display door open, grabbed a cupcake, and set it on the counter in front of him.
Beau scooped the cupcake up in his giant hand and scarfed it down in practically one bite.
Gross.
But I guess the guy's gotta have a big appetite. Pro athlete and all.
I watched him chew and waited for the verdict. Even though I knew he'd act like it was the worst thing ever, even if he truly didn't think so. So why did I care at all?
His Adam's apple plunged down his wide and muscled neck as he gulped down the last bite.
“Huh,” he said, looking genuinely surprised. “That's actually good. G'job, Rach.”
“Gee. Thanks.”
“What flavor is that?”
“Vanilla raspberry.”
“I'll take two dozen cupcakes. Whichever flavor.”
I squinted at him. “Really?”
“Yep.”
“This isn't some kind of prank?”
“Shit, Rach! Can a man order two dozen cupcakes or not? I'm going to bring them to the boys. Some of us like to have a little sugar before the game. Helps to get our legs going.”
With a shrug, I started filling a couple boxes.
Still feels like he's setting me up for something.
Piper, looking star-struck, twirled the end of her hair around her finger and stared longingly at the two athletes.
“So, you two have a game tomorrow night?” she asked.
“Sure do,” Beau answered.
“Where?”
“Madison Square Garden. We're playing against your hometown New York Scouts.”
“Ooh,” Piper cooed. “I've never been to a hockey game before.”
“Really?” Beau asked.
“Yeah, really.”
I cut in and stacked Beau's two boxes on the counter-top. “Here you are.” I punched his order into the register. “Anything else before you two leave?”
Beau turned to Hunter. “You want anything bro?”
Hunter shook his head. “Nah.”
“That'll be $89.28,” I said to Beau.
“Hold on. I'm starved.” Beau pointed at the rosemary and cream-cheese roll. “Better give me two of those rolls for the road.”
I wrapped the rolls up for him and gave him his new total. “That'll be $100.17.”
Beau reached for his wallet and plucked out two fresh hundred dollar bills from an absurdly healthy stack of them.
I tried to hand him one of the bills back. “No sense breaking a $100 bill over seventeen cents.”
Beau shrugged cockily. “Hell, I don't care. Keep the change.”
I wouldn't keep the change. I knew that'd only make him happy and somehow victorious. I shook my head and held that bill out to him, waiting for him to take it.
But he just wouldn't take it.
The stand-off persisted, until Beau had had enough. With a huff, he wrapped his huge hand around my wrist. Moving my hand over the tip jar, Beau made me drop the $100 bill into the jar.
“There,” he grinned.
Fucker.
And as if that wasn't enough, his wallet came out again.
“And, since Piper said she's never been to a game,” Beau trailed off as he pulled two tickets from his wallet. “Here's two tickets for the game tomorrow night.”
He displayed those tickets with a smug grin before he placed those in our tip jar, too. And then, just for good measure, another $100.
I wasn't amused. Oh, stop it already.
But Piper clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh my God! That's so nice of you! Thank you, Mr. Bradford!”
“Anytime, sweetheart. And please, just call me Beau.” Beau winked at Piper.
Piper leaned against the counter-top. “So, Beau, we'd love to go to the game tomorrow night. But what will you fellas be getting up to tonight?”
I quietly reprimanded her. “Piper!”
Beau smiled that charming snake-smile of his. “We'll be hanging out at club 1 OAK. Love to see you ladies there.”
He turned that smile on me next—except I was immune to its voodoo. “Camille. Hope you can make it.”
Oh, how kind, he does know my name after all.
“Yeah, we'll see. Bye Beau.”
We watched as the two men gathered up their boxes and took off.
The second our door closed after them, Piper fanned herself like she could faint at any moment.
“Holy fuck, Camille. Those guys are smoking hot.”
I groaned. “Piper! I can't believe you.”
“What? They are! My God, those bodies. When they first walked into the shop, I was going to ask if they were firefighters. And heck, that thought made me weak in the knees. But once Beau said that they're professional hockey players?” Piper's eyes rolled into the back of her head. “Marone.”
I had to laugh. “If you grew up with Beau like I did, you wouldn't think so. But hey, I don't blame you. Appearances can be deceiving.”
“Really?” Piper asked as she fished the tickets and both hundred dollar bills out of the tip jar. “Because Beau seems nice as hell!”
“Trust me—he's not.”
“I'm still just shocked. You never, ever told me that someone you went to high school with is a professional hockey player. That is so cool. And he's so down-to-Earth.”
“Down-to-Earth! Beau Bradford!” I had to have a hearty laugh over that one. “Judging by the size of that guy's ego in high school? Let's just say that I seriously doubt that he's any more humble now that he's a famous athlete.”
“Well, I'm not seeing it,” Piper shrugged.
“Luckily for you, ignorance is bliss.”
“And you know what else? Thanks to those guys, we turned a profit today.”
“Our first profit,” I grumbled.
And we owed it all to Beau Bradford. Talk about bittersweet.
Piper tried to hand me my half of the tip Beau left us. But I stared at the money as if I couldn't trust it.
“Aren't you going to take this?” Piper asked, waving the $100 bill at me.
I folded my arms and turned my nose up. “I don't want it.”
“Why not?”
“Don't you get it? That whole visit was a power-play by him. He came here to lord his money and celebrity status over me.”
Piper chortled. “Camille. No offense, but I think you're acting a little nuts. I think I can read between the lines, though … you guys totally used to bang, right?”
I almost choked.
“Ew—gross—no. Never.”
“Really? Because I was picking up on a serious 'banged like rabbits back in the day and yet still haven't got all that hot lovemaking out of their system' kind of vibe from you guys.”
That thought, that image, of me and Beau 'banging?' My throat squeezed shut like I'd just inhaled a cloud of cancer. I hacked and coughed until at last I could speak again.
“That is actually so objectively wrong and terrible, you don't even know how bad it is.”
“Oh yeah? So what happened between you two?”
“We hated each other, Piper.”
“I get that—but why?”
“Because—” I hemmed and hawed. “Because, reasons.”
Piper stared at me, waiting for an explanation that I wasn't prepared to give her.
“You realize you're not making a very convincing case here, right?” she asked. “And didn't you say you were like a shy bookworm type all throughout school? How the heck did you end up on that guy's radar?”
“I don't wanna talk about it, okay? And give me those!” I reached for the hockey tickets so I could tear them in half, but Piper pulled them out of my grasp before I could snatch them away.
“Oh no. We're going to that game.”
I laughed sharply. “No we're not!”
“You see this?” She pointed at the print on the ticket. “Row 1. Row 1! These are front row seats, Cammy.”
I shrugged. “Fine. Keep the tickets. You can go, but I won't.”
She pouted. “Well … what about the club?”
“I am definitely not going to that, either.”
“But just earlier today, you promised that you'd come out with me next time something came up.”
“I didn't promise anything.”
Piper stamped her foot. “Cam! C'mon! Have some fun.”
“Nope.”
“Okay then.” She shrugged and started to walk off. “I guess I'll be going to the club alone.”
I chased after her and grabbed her arm. “No. You can't.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“Because. Because he'll try to sleep with you, okay?”
She snickered. “So what if he tries? You actually think I will?”
I felt my face get hot and flustered. “Well—I dunno—maybe.”
“Camille. I would never fuck a guy that you're so obviously into.”
“I am not into Beau,” I huffed with outrage. Why didn't she believe me?
“But the thought of Beau hitting on me bothers you, even though you two have never slept together and you're not interested in him at all, right?”
“Exactly!” I knew it didn't make sense, but I didn't care. “And that's exactly why he'd do it, too. Because he knows it'd bother me. He thinks it'd be totally hilarious to fuck my business partner, to teach me a lesson about how great he is. Or something.”
“This is hilarious. And you two sound like one hot mess together,” Piper squealed. “But I love it. This guy is already way more exciting than Matt.”
I groaned. “Trust me. It's nothing like that.”
“So come with me to the club. Or don't, and I'll go alone, and you'll stay at home being driven mad with paranoia.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “But I'd rather you come with me.”
“Fine. Fine, I'll go. But only so I can protect you from him.”
“Perfect.” Piper smiled from ear to ear. “So you're really not going to admit it?”
“Admit what?”
“That, just a second ago, you two were staring at each other with those furious bedroom eyes. Like you couldn't wait to tear each other out of your clothes and sink your teeth into each other and screw like animals. Just go ahead and admit it, Cam, it's not hard! Once upon a time, there was something between you guys.”
I let out an ear-piercing laugh. “Nothing. There was nothing there. Now or ever.”
Piper's eyes sparkled. “You know he passes the bicep-calf test, right?”
“And yet his big, rippling biceps don't make him any less of a sleaze.”