Baking Up Love

  Baking Up Love

  Sunrise Valley Book Two

  Simone Belarose

  Copyright © 2019 by Simone Belarose

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For those of you who never give up.

  You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because the reality is finally better than your dreams.

  Dr. Suess

  Other Books Written by Simone Belarose

  Sunrise Valley Series

  Kneading You: A Small Town Love Story (Book 1)

  If you like this book and want to stay in the loop on all new books, series, free extras, and deals come sign up for the newsletter on my site.

  You’ll get access to exclusive content, all the latest news, and be able to do cool things like join up for ARCs and be a Beta Reader!

  Contents

  About This Book

  1. Claire

  2. Thomas

  3. Claire

  4. Thomas

  5. Claire

  6. Thomas

  7. Claire

  8. Thomas

  9. Claire

  10. Thomas

  11. Claire

  12. Thomas

  13. Claire

  14. Thomas

  15. Claire

  16. Thomas

  17. Claire

  18. Thomas

  19. Claire

  20. Thomas

  21. Sam

  22. Claire

  23. Thomas

  24. Claire

  Epilogue

  More Sunrise Valley

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Other Books Written by Simone Belarose

  Come Say Hi!

  About This Book

  “You don’t get to decide who loves you. The only thing any of us gets to decide is what we do with the love given to us. That’s all we can do.” — Thomas Weller

  After almost losing Thomas for good, Claire Walker is ravenously hungry to make up for lost time. Their relationship heats up and she keeps going back for seconds from her hunky baker and his mouth-watering…baguette.

  For the first time in her life, Claire has everything she wants. A sister back in her life, a man who treats her like a goddess, and a driving purpose to transform her hometown of Sunrise Valley into a thriving tourist hot spot.

  That is, until a family secret claws its way into the light of day.

  Thomas Weller has his hands full at the bakery and at home. With more orders than he can fill, he’s spread thin between the woman of his dreams and managing the hottest new bakery in the state single-handedly.

  Sometimes, there can be too much of a good thing.

  Baking Up Love is a steamy, fun, standalone small-town romance that explores the deepening love between Claire and Thomas. So close your door, bundle up with your favorite blanket and come back to Sunrise Valley. Where the days are brisk and the nights are red-hot.

  1

  Claire

  More people turned up for Dad’s funeral than I thought. When I first came back to Sunrise Valley in the wake of his sudden death I was sure it would be a small gathering. Me, my sister Jemma, and a couple of other close friends and relatives. That’s it.

  What I hadn’t expected was the outpouring of support from the town, and many people who were no longer living in Sunrise Valley. It was a beautiful blue-sky day, the sort of day nothing bad could happen.

  Not the sort of day you buried your loving father on.

  The waves of building sadness broke against me, and I would have let them batter me down in another life. A life I once had back in New York where I was alone and thought myself happy.

  A life without Thomas.

  With his fingers laced with mine, Thomas gave my hand a reassuring squeeze as they lowered my dad’s casket into the ground. The early autumn chill had arrived in full force in Sunrise Valley and even though it was just edging into October now, everybody had on thick jackets to ward off the cold.

  I wrapped my arms around Thomas’ big arm. I didn’t care if I looked like a child. His reassuring presence was all that was holding me up. Tears filled my eyes and I let them ruin my makeup. If there was one day I should be allowed to look like a wreck, it would be today.

  Claire de Lune played from the speakers, Dad was always such a big Debussy fan, as the casket sank entirely out of sight. Memories flashed before me of better times.

  Times when I would hold onto Dad’s arm like I was to Thomas’. When everything was okay and even when it wasn’t okay, I felt safe and sure. He provided a foundation from which I was free to reach for the stars.

  I never could have become the woman I was without my dad. Though I’m sure he’d be shaking a book at me to find out how I nearly screwed everything up with Thomas. Or how long it’d take me to come around to love.

  Thomas stood beside me in a gorgeous black wool coat that fit his muscular frame snugly. He’d been close to Dad too. There were always new surprises with Thomas. The depths of his compassion seemed limitless.

  Once that would have made me unsure and self-conscious. But now it gave me inspiration. Hope. I could learn to be a better person, and with Thomas as a guidepost, I was already well on my way.

  I had to admit, Jemma outdid herself. She had trawled through all of Dad’s old contacts. A lot of the heavy lifting to get people to show up and inform them of Dad’s passing was her doing.

  We had a sort of sisterly awakening after Dad’s death.

  It was something I always thought I missed out on. Everybody else talked about how close they were with their sisters. If you had asked me what Jemma’s favorite color was two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you. Granted, I probably wouldn’t be able to tell you what it would be in a week either because she changed her favorites so often.

  But I would know when she changed. That alone was a massive difference for us.

  The rest of the service was a blur of sad faces and black outfits offering condolences to Jemma and I. Thomas didn’t think it was right that he stand with the surviving family, but I wasn’t about to let him leave my side. He was my comfort. My rock. I couldn’t do this without him and it was laughable that I ever thought I could on my own.

  Thomas looked handsome as ever. As the day wore on and the weather warmed, he shrugged out of his jacket revealing his black suit and tie. I wasn’t aware he even owned one, but it was remarkably well-tailored to fit his large frame and broad shoulders. I only saw him cry once when were kids, but when they lowered Dad into the ground I saw the glistening trails on his sculpted cheeks.

  For some reason it made me fall for him even harder. I knew he and Dad had been friends after I left for college, but it still surprised me how much Thomas seemed to care for him. In a way, he was like the father he never had. A father he deserved, instead of the abusive drunk he got.

  The gathering afterward was brief as I could make it without seeming disrespectful. Thomas whisked me through the hall, accepting further condolences and listening to bittersweet anecdotes about Dad from a few dozen different people.

  Many of whom I never knew.

  There was one woman that stood out. She was older, around Dad’s age, and seemed vaguely familiar. I couldn’t place her face or where I knew her. But I felt certain I did.

  Her green eyes scanned the room, taking in everything and everyone. She was one of the few people who didn’t seem to come with anybody, and either people didn’t know her or they didn’t want to because she was largely left alone.

  She
stood out because she was one of the few people who hadn’t lined up to offer me condolences. It was odd. I noticed her not because she was striking or particularly memorable, but because she gave me the space I so desperately wanted.

  So many people had stories to tell me about Dad. And while I loved to hear more about him, at the moment I just wanted to be alone with my grief. And Thomas. I really wanted to be alone with Thomas. I needed his arms around me. His soft kisses on my skin that would take away this black pit of despair roiling in my stomach.

  I forced myself to listen to the stories, even though they broke my heart.

  Dad was a lot more popular than I ever thought he was. It seemed once our mom split on us, things changed. He stopped being a carefree, adventurous spirit and settled down. We were raised in a loving single-parent home, and for that, I couldn’t be more thankful.

  It was Thomas that got me out of the Hall and back into my rental Suburban before I broke down even further. The stories were adorable, funny, and thrilling all at once. And on any other day, I would want to hear more. But not today.

  Today, I felt like the worst daughter ever.

  Hearing about how Dad was a rock climbing enthusiast, amateur botanist, that he hiked the Appalachian trail twice on his own, and helped a few distant relatives escape from East Berlin to the west while he was in Europe after college was just too much.

  It felt like we had drained the soul from the beautiful bright flame of a man I never fully got to know.

  After we were born everything changed. He stopped going out as much, we became his number one priority and when Mom left we were all he had left of her.

  I knew he had never stopped loving her. Sometimes I would catch him looking out at the driveway as if he expected her to come back one day.

  She never did.

  Despite knowing it wasn’t the case, it was hard not to feel like we had stolen that from him. Like somehow Jemma and I leeched away the very essence of the man that gave us everything.

  Those thoughts swirled around my head and only made me feel worse with each story that illuminated how amazing and interesting my dad was. The man that owned a small-town bookstore and took care of his two wildly different daughters when his wife suddenly skipped out on him just a couple years into their marriage.

  Thomas squeezed my hand comfortingly. By that point, I was a sobbing wreck of tears, runny makeup, and snot. Somehow he still managed to look at me like I was the most beautiful woman in the world.

  Safely alone with the man of my dreams, I let it all come out. He managed to start the car left-handed since I was clinging to his thick muscled arm with all my might and soaking his sleeve with my tears.

  All I remember was him carrying me up the stairs, the chilly wind knifing through my jacket. It howled through the second-floor hallway of the two apartments behind the bakery and the now-closed bookstore.

  Both of them were mine now.

  Technically, they were ours.

  Thomas and I had become forced business partners. A final ploy by Dad to get us to mend fences. It was a relationship that had been broken by betrayal. I later learned only when I came back to Sunrise Valley that it hadn’t been Thomas’ fault at all.

  In fact, it had been a despicable ploy by Beth Ingvar. A girl I had thought was my friend. Why she turned us against each other, I never did find out. Thomas didn’t seem to understand either, though I had my suspicions that she was jealous of our closeness.

  Jealousy is a powerful motivating force. I see it all the time at my job as a consultant. Green-eyed executives making poor business decisions in order to make a fast profit at the detriment of the company’s longevity.

  Thomas was hot, even as a teenager. He had that gorgeous, lean British rock star look to him. It wouldn’t have surprised me if the reason Beth tried - and succeeded for nearly a decade - to turn us against each other was because she wanted a chance at him.

  I never bothered to ask Thomas about it. Part of me never wanted to know, and the other didn’t want to entertain the thought that they might have dated.

  Throughout all my doubting and second-guessing, Thomas had been my rock. Infinitely patient, loving, trusting, and though I wouldn’t call anybody perfect, he was as close as you could get. He never once doubted us.

  It was something that frightened me at first. He was so great, so loving and just ready to be with me, that once I realized how badly I was falling for him I pulled away.

  It was stupid. I was stupid.

  I let myself believe that he’d see through me. To the small scared girl inside and not want anything to do with me. That somehow my love wouldn’t be enough because I didn’t know how to love him as he loved me.

  How did you let yourself open up and become more vulnerable than you’ve ever been in your entire life? How could you let somebody have all the power to hurt you without anything to protect yourself?

  It was those two questions that nearly ruined my chance at happiness. I couldn’t figure them out. Even when the obvious answer was staring me in the face.

  In the end, it was Jemma of all people, who helped me to see that all I needed to do was love him. To open myself up to that love and love him as much as I could. It didn’t matter if the way I loved him was different. So long as I loved him as much as I knew how.

  It was almost too late at that point. I had nearly ruined everything with my fear. Opening myself up hadn’t been easy. But it was the best decision I ever made.

  Back home, not Thomas’ apartment or my apartment but home, Thomas set me down on the couch and bundled me up in my favorite blanket of his.

  To think I already had a favorite.

  While he set up in the kitchen making something for us, I kicked off my shoes and curled up in the little cocoon he had made for me. It was ironic how similar this was to when I foolishly had broken it off with him less than a week ago.

  I had sat on my father’s empty apartment floor in a thick pile of blankets crying my eyes out, absolutely sure I had done the right thing and wondering the whole time why I felt so miserable.

  Turned out my heart is a lot smarter than my brain.

  And thanks to Jemma I learned to listen to my heart. But that didn’t stop my brain from butting in time to time. Even now it threw doubts at me that were hard to ignore.

  Every time I felt the doubts pile on, I leaned on Thomas for strength and he never once disappointed. He never once grew tired of my worries or concerns.

  Thomas came back with two mugs of steaming tea. I had never been a big tea drinker, but the smooth scent of black tea spiked with something citrusy appealed more than I thought it would.

  A few careful sips and I was hooked.

  “What is this?”

  “Earl Grey, you like it?”

  “I love it. Why haven’t you given me any before?”

  He snorted a laugh, rippling the dark amber liquid of his mug as he lifted it to his lips.

  Lips I desperately wanted on me. Memories of them trailing down my neck, between my breasts, and between my legs created a familiar tightening ache in my belly.

  “Probably,” he said after taking a sip. “Because you are addicted to my coffee.”

  There was that.

  Thomas Weller had never gone to any schooling past high school, I don’t mention it as a way of bashing him but as something I try to keep in mind. He was never schooled to be a chef or baker or patissier, and yet he was amazing at all of those.

  Thomas ran a small bakery adorably called A Game of Scones. He managed, baked, and ran it all by himself until Dad forced us into an unlikely partnership by willing me the deed to the entire building on the stipulation that I would have Thomas as my business partner.

  Without Thomas’ nightly insistence on running together - a hobby we both enjoyed - I would have gained at least ten pounds by now. It was a miracle that Thomas was so built.

  The man even roasted his own coffee. Who does that? I was a coffee addict long before coming back to Su
nrise Valley, but after trying Thomas’ special blend my addiction scaled to new heights.

  Honestly, I probably would have stayed with him just for the baked goods and coffee alone. Never mind the mind-blowing, toe-curling sex.

  Why Thomas loved me and pined after me all those years between, I’ll never know. I’m just happy that he’s all mine and nobody else’s.

  “Why’re you looking at me like that?” he asked, noticing my staring.

  “Just thinking how much I love you.” Those three little words, so hard-fought to admit to him alone, much less in a crowded bakery, were always on my lips now. I wanted him to know how much I loved him.

  “I love you too.” His lopsided smile and thick black stubble made my heart flip in my chest. I never wanted to stop feeling that rush when he looked at me like that.

  We sat there for a while, curled up under the blanket sharing each other’s warmth, until that perfect quiet moment was broken by my stomach grumbling loud enough for Thomas to hear.

  “I’ve got some leftovers from the burgers I made last night, did you want some?”

  I shot him a squint-eyed glare. “You know I can’t say no to your meat.”

  It hadn’t been intended as a cheesy come-on. We both took a moment to realize what I had said and then broke out laughing like a pair of idiots.

  Moments like that made me feel as if I never left Sunrise Valley in the first place and our relationship continued just as it always had. Times like those were my favorite. I got to have the man of my dreams and my childhood best friend all at once.