Bun in Her Oven Read online

  Getting into the apartment I kicked the door shut behind us and marched into the living room. Claire squealed like a little girl when I dropped her onto the couch from behind. “I’m going to make us some pumpkin spice drizzled popcorn and we’ll watch some movies, how’s that sound?”

  Claire poked her head up over the edge of the couch and grinned at me. “That sounds delightful.” She watched me for a while as I locked the door, took off my shoes and busied around in the kitchen.

  A couple of nights ago I had whipped up some white chocolate and mixed in pumpkin spice then dyed it a splendidly autumn orange. It only took a few minutes over a pot of boiling water to liquefy and while that was going I made some popcorn for us.

  It was around the time I was drizzling the pumpkin spice over the popcorn that I realized Claire was still staring at me. She had her head pillowed on her arms laid across the top of the couch.

  “What’re you staring at?” I asked, starting to feel a little self-conscious even though I know I shouldn’t. Not with Claire, never with her.

  “Wondering what it was that I did to get such an awesome fiancé.” I must have made a face because her wistful expression turned serious. “I still cannot believe that after all this time you do not see how awesome you are. You cook, you clean, you run your own business, you’re incredibly considerate and kind, you are health conscious, and I can count the number of times you’ve ever raised your voice one hand.

  “And that has nothing to do with how smoking hot you are! How can you be so blind to all of that? I’m telling you, Thomas, you are amazing. And I am so thankful that every day I get to wake up next to you. I will never stop being amazed by you. I love you, Thomas.”

  I was far from an emotional guy. One of the downsides of living with an abusive father was learning to bottle up my feelings and never cry. Especially not in front of him. But what Claire was saying nearly moved me to tears.

  She would never know how much her words meant to me.

  “I love you too,” I managed with only the tiniest tremor to my voice. “I’m willing to accept that I’m amazing if you are willing to accept the same for you.”

  Claire pulled a face and before I could say anything more she said, “Okay. If that is what it takes for you to see just how incredible you are. Then I fully accept that I can also be an awesome fiancé and woman. There, see?”

  “Fair enough, Claire.”

  I carried the large bowl of drizzled popcorn over to the couch, turning off the lights on the way and dropped into the seat next to her. Claire pulled up the fluffy blanket on the couch over us and snuggled up to me.

  It was heaven.

  We watched Abbot & Costello Meet Frankenstein, then The Wolfman, and Dracula after that. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed these movies.

  Both of us had been working so hard lately. Ever since Claire quit her job she was working overtime for the bakery. She had a full business plan in action, balanced our budget and set projections for the next three quarters, and took care of all the supply logistics.

  That left me with needing to take care of the stuff ‘on the ground’ as Claire put it. Which was anything related to the actual day-to-day running of A Game of Scones.

  With the way we were going, I was ready to promote Sam to a management position and hire another clerk or two to cover the shifts with Sam watching over them. I know it was hardly her ideal job, but she was more than capable of it.

  And to be frank, I needed the help.

  There was so much that needed to be baked that even when I spent most of the day baking, there simply was not enough supply to meet the growing demand. And that was before I even factored in the online orders.

  I hopped over the couch and sat the bowl of popcorn between us on the coffee table. We snuggled up and watched The Wolfman. It was one of my favorites. The transformation scene always gave me a little thrill.

  “I miss trick-or-treating,” said Claire suddenly. She popped a handful of popcorn into her mouth and groaned. “You’re going to make me so fat, Thomas.”

  “I’d still find you the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  She swatted at me, took off her sandals and curled her legs up beneath her.

  “I miss it too,” I said. “We had a lot of fun, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah we really did.” She let out a yawn and cuddled up close.

  “Do you ever think about kids?” I asked her.

  “With you?” Claire snorted a laugh. “It’s a recurring fantasy that you’ll knock me up. I mean, we’re totally not ready.”

  “Totally,” I added for solidarity’s sake.

  “But… yeah. I think you would be an amazing dad.”

  “And you would be a wonderful mom.”

  Claire shrugged one shoulder against me. “And it’d be a whole lot of fun to make ‘em.” Another yawn took her for a moment and spread to me.

  As much as I liked where the conversation was going, I knew we were both too tired to do much more. Besides, she was mine now and I was hers. We had all the time in the world.

  Another minute on the couch and we’d likely not be getting up at all. I made a mental note to make sure we get ready for bed in half an hour.

  It wasn’t much of a surprise when both Claire and I woke up the next morning with the TV still looping on The Wolfman with us both on the couch. My back was stiff and sore, so I got up to stretch and move around a little.

  By the time I was limbered up enough and had breakfast going, Claire was getting up from the couch. It was probably the smell of coffee and bacon. That woman loved her coffee.

  I couldn’t help but smile when she turned her adorable squinty face my way. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, her bedhead looked absolutely charming. There was no woman, no person in all the world, more gorgeous than Claire Walker.

  “Good morning, beautiful.”

  “Mmm…is that coffee I smell?”

  Adorably predictable. I finished plating our breakfast and poured her a cup of black coffee. I have no idea how she could stomach the stuff.

  I made good coffee, roasted and sourced the beans myself, but there was no way in Hell I could drink it black. Now if I added some cream and sugar, I could handle it.

  But Claire was on a whole different level of coffee addiction than me.

  I swear if she could inject it into her veins she would. So, naturally I used her as a test subject for all my new roasts. It was a lot easier for her to pick up on the imperfections and various notes of coffee by having it without any additives.

  While they made the coffee drinkable to me, it also masked any issues with the beans. Sometimes I’d use a very light-bodied blend and the cream would round it out. It was easy to miss.

  Claire found it right away after two sips.

  She had inherited Richard’s amazing sense of taste. I would have killed for that ability. Everything I made tasted fairly good to me but it was all the same. Claire and even Jemma could tell the difference between a teaspoon of cardamom added to a massive batch of cookies and half a teaspoon.

  Needless to say, they were both conscripted to be my certified taste testers. A job neither of them objected to.

  I had an abundance of new recipes. Now that I had an actual growing clientele I could experiment with different flavors and recipes to constantly have something new on the menu.

  It was one of my favorite things about being a baker.

  “Have a seat, I got some pumpkin cream cheese for your toast,” I said.

  There was only one ‘rule’ that I had. We eat dinner at the table. I was fine with snacks and whatnot on the couch and even other meals occasionally. But there was something special about eating at the large stained oak table I had in my dining room.

  Every meal felt warmer, better somehow. I never had the typical family dinners that I saw on TV growing up. This was my attempt at making those memories for myself.

  I knew only too well how quickly those chances evaporated. I wanted as many of them as I
could get my hands on.

  Claire dragged herself off the couch with the blanket still wrapped around her. She shuffled into the kitchen looking every bit like a beautiful goddess as she did the night before.

  “What’re you looking at?” she asked, catching my gaze.

  “Nothing,” I said with a smile.

  Breakfast with Claire was blissfully quiet.

  I enjoyed spending time with her in the softness of early morning. There was something magical about that time of day, dawn and dusk were my favorite.

  The world was either waking up or going to bed and there was this undeniable quiet that pervaded everything. A sense of peace that I could never quite find anywhere else. I loved it.

  It was particularly sweet to watch Claire slowly wake up between bites of her toast slathered with pumpkin cream cheese and sips of black coffee. I could sit here and watch her for ages.

  But that wasn’t something I had time for. Sam would already be in the bakery, having opened up at eight. Today I had to go to Rick and Jill’s orchard for a pickup. The drive itself would take an hour or so round trip and the brother-sister duo always were keen on hospitality.

  I waited until the last minute to leave. I sat there, plate of breakfast finished, second cup of coffee drained, watching Claire like some love-struck teenager. I wanted to wring out every second I had with her.

  Finally awake and alert, she noticed what I was doing. “Don’t you have that pick up at the orchard?” she asked.

  Busted.

  I hooked a grin at her, the kind I knew melted her heart. Maybe it was fighting dirty but she had her own tricks that she used on me. All’s fair in love and war after all.

  “Yeah,” I said, pushing to my feet. I was still dressed in the Adonis outfit. “I was just about to go, actually.”

  “Sure you were, maybe you’d like to change into something else?”

  I looked down then back at her. “Yeah, just noticed that myself. You know, the Greeks were onto something. This is really quite comfortable. Good cross-breeze.”

  She followed me into the bedroom as I changed clothes. I caught her out of the corner of my eye leering at me like a piece of meat, her shoulder propped up on the doorway.

  “Something I can help you with?” I asked with a laugh.

  “You can get me some of that meat.”

  I snorted and pulled up my jeans, buttoning them up. “Hand me that shirt will you?”

  Claire leaned into the room and pulled off the flannel shirt I liked to wear during the cooler months of autumn. It was the perfect mix of warm, soft, yet sturdy. She tossed it to me, licking her lips like a hungry predator. Her bright green eyes were dark pools of desire that made me wish I had more time.

  “I always liked the way you looked in that,” she said.

  I watched her, buttoning it up over my undershirt and rolling up the sleeves. She was gorgeous. “I’ll have to get more then.”

  “Actually…” She tapped a fingernail to her chin thoughtfully. “I was thinking that maybe you’d like to go out shopping sometime soon? Get some clothes, housewares, stuff that we can get together.”

  Why was she nervous about that? “That sounds great, how about this weekend?” Maybe she thought I would not want to do something so mundane? It didn’t make any sense, maybe I wasn’t reading her right.

  Claire brightened considerably at that and bounced toward me, wrapping her slender arms around me. I pulled her in tight and gave her a squeeze. I loved the way she felt against me.

  My skin tingled with electricity wherever it met hers. I could see the same reaction clear on her face. She parted her lips eagerly as I leaned in to kiss her, our tongues swirled around in a less-than-chaste kiss. But one that was cut short leaving us both a little breathless.

  She grinned coyly at me. I couldn’t help but swoop in for another kiss on the lips. I don’t know how she did it. Claire always tasted sweet and delicious to me no matter what time of day it was.

  Maybe I was just addicted to her.

  My eyes roamed her body from the dark tousled hair to her bare feet and every agonizingly gorgeous inch in between. Yes, I was definitely addicted to this woman. My future wife. I still couldn’t believe that she said yes.

  I let Claire go and she walked with me to the door as I put on my shoes and left my jacket hanging up. The red flannel shirt was good enough for now. It was a lot colder in Sunrise Valley than the rest of the state but it was still in the upper sixties during the day.

  “I’ll try to be back for lunch, will you be here?” I asked hanging halfway out the door. The wind whistled in the hallway and I noticed Claire shiver from the sudden drop in temperature.

  “I’ll let you know,” she said around a jaw-creaking yawn. “I’m going to take a shower and get ready. Check my emails, see what’s going on today. I might have a couple meetings if things go well.”

  She looked unusually excited. “Anything I should know about?”

  Claire’s dark curls bounced with the shake of her head. “Not yet, nothing’s certain just right now.”

  I couldn’t say I was a fan of her keeping things from me, even if it was so I would not worry. I understood though. But understanding did not make me feel better about it.

  I pulled Claire into another hug, kissed the crown of her head and nuzzled her a little. “I’ll miss you Claire-bear.”

  She gasped - just as I knew she would - and I let go of her as she leaped away her hands clapped to her mouth. “You!”

  I grinned and hurried down the hallway to the stairs and took them quickly to get away from her pending wrath. Claire-bear was a nickname she had gotten when we were kids.

  It was not your typical term of endearment, though I was hoping I could co-opt it and turn it into something positive. I was never the type of guy to call somebody ‘babe’ or ‘baby’ it always felt so… insincere. Simplistic.

  A pet name needed meaning behind it. History. Claire-bear had that.

  Out in the parking lot, I pulled open the door to Richard’s 1967 Caprice. Hideous color, gorgeous machine. I would have preferred an Impala SS but we don’t always get what we want.

  As I backed out of the spot I half expected to see Claire coming down fuming mad. She didn’t, that was not her way. If I had bothered her at all - which I seriously doubt I did - she’d concoct a perfect reprisal when I came home.

  I drove down Main Street thinking of coming home to Claire, amazed at how normal that seemed now. Something that had been a dream a month ago. A dream that was, back then, very unlikely to come true.

  Fate was a strange thing.

  5

  Claire

  Claire-bear! He called me Claire-bear!

  I could have screamed. I could have hit him. But what I could not do, was ignore the swooping feeling in my stomach that made me feel giddy and breathless all at once when I heard that name.

  It was a name I had nearly forgotten about.

  When we were in grade school together I had this fascination with bears. I went through this whole phase after Mom left us where I did a bunch of weird and rebellious things.

  One of them happened to be wearing a bear costume to school for two months straight. Everybody started calling me Claire-bear. It was embarrassing to think about but at the time I enjoyed it.

  Even back then Thomas stood by me. The weird girl without a mom that dressed up like a bear.

  Wow. I was a bit of a dork.

  Despite that and as much as I wanted to, I did not hate that Thomas called me that. In fact, I loved it. There was history to it, a personality behind the cutesy name that anything else would have lacked.

  Only, I couldn’t let him know I liked it.

  I shut the door and locked it, meandering back into the apartment in search of a good hot shower and maybe a third cup of coffee after that. I still could not get over that I was living with Thomas.

  This was his - our - apartment. We lived together. It was so unreal it made me giddy every time I tho
ught about it. How did I ever think I was happy in New York in a job I hated, working for people who were beyond repugnant?

  But I was now. I was happy in Sunrise Valley. I had a family, one that was bigger than I ever thought it could be.

  It still gave me a little naughty thrill to shower here. I could not explain why. Maybe it was knowing that Thomas had also showered in here. His mouth-watering tight, tanned body standing under the spray of hot water. Beads of moisture trailing down the tight curves of his muscles.

  The thought was enough to make me weak in the knees.

  Gathering myself, I stepped in and took a good long shower. Thomas didn’t have a detachable showerhead and I was glad that I no longer needed it. Thomas was all I needed now.

  Showered, caffeinated, and still a little horny, I sat down at my desk in the office and got to work.

  There was so much to managing A Game of Scones that I had not even thought of when I first agreed to the partnership. Not that I had much of a choice without breaking our partnership and being forced to sell the building.

  Something I had no intention of ever doing.

  People were constantly emailing and calling wanting interviews, asking questions, or submitting complaints.

  Most of them were a waste of time to entertain. Thomas was against interviews, so I did most of them over email or phone. Most of the time I did not even do that.

  Potential business partners, sponsorship, and suppliers were something I replied to often but the same issues popped up there too. Most contacts were not nearly as equipped or serious about the offer as we needed.

  A Game of Scones needed a partner that could grow with us, not somebody looking to ride our coattails. Unfortunately, with all the increased popularity and the way we managed to stay trending and viral, we attracted a lot of people looking to take advantage of us.

  Something that, as much as I love Thomas, I had to admit he would probably fall prey to. But compared to the sharks that I worked alongside in New York, their ploys were painfully transparent.