Authors: Maisey Yates
Though, if stock standard brides were from the lake of fire, celebrity brides transformed into Beelzebub himself.
Melanie had been fielding orders from quite a few celebrity brides of late. Her at-home cake business had expanded well beyond the small town of Marietta, Montana and had gone out into the rest of the United States. Thanks to a feature on Food Network when one of the shows had gone through the state, that had been followed by a segment on the Travel Channel then another on an entertainment network’s celebrity weddings program after she’d picked up her first major client – a reality TV star whose marriage had lasted less time than it had taken her to frost the damn cake – Melanie had been up to her eyeballs in more business than she could possibly take. Which made her appear exclusive. Which only made her orders increase.
She shipped cakes far and wide. And sometimes, her clients shipped her to the location when they wanted something more elaborate. Other than occasional all-expenses-paid travel, she was able to work from home and bake in her sweatpants, formulating new and exciting flavor combinations and making her own schedule. Like, today, she was able to start late since she’d crashed out at a dingy roadside motel and had spent a couple hours thereafter feeling like death as she recovered from her first ever hangover, and dealing with the horror of what had transpired the night before, both with Joel, the Drunken Cowboy, and Luke.
But hey, she made her own schedule. So whatever. Who cared if she was squinty and dire at work? Or if she was late. No one. She was her own boss.
For those perks, she would put up with just about anything.
And did. And was gearing up to deal with the epic hardship that was working with Nancy Parsons, former Marietta girl turned Hollywood superstar, and her equally famous fiancé, Jared Lovell.
The order for the cake, and the many cakes, and cupcakes, was maddeningly specific while also being vague. Rustic elegance, new flavor combinations that were also classic. But none of that was new in Melanie’s world. That was just life with brides.
She had a month to experiment with different concepts, and she had been paid enough that she had very little else she needed to work on during the timeframe. So, all in all, she couldn’t complain.
The biggest perk of working for a celebrity bride was that she was far too busy to communicate directly. There were assistants for that kind of thing. Assistants to professionally soothe the egos of their bosses and to help make them more palatable for the masses.
That meant that Melanie would be able to work largely undisturbed. Which was how she liked it.
She crossed the length of her kitchen, taking her red and white apron off of its hook, and put it on, wandering over to her wall of shelves lined with gallon Mason jars filled with dry ingredients. She kept multiple kinds of flours on hand to accommodate the special dietary needs of her clients. Almond flour, coconut flour oat flour, rice flour, and even standard all-purpose flour.
She would be utilizing a few different kinds to make gluten-free and paleo cakes, and some standard cakes for Nancy’s wedding. The weird-ass cakes always required a little bit of extra experimentation. Just to get the consistency down perfectly. Different flavors and alternate ingredients added or subtracted moisture which could throw everything off.
She was looking forward to trying the gluten-free sweet potato cupcakes with toasted marshmallow frosting. Possibly insane, but she wouldn’t know unless she tried. Which meant lots of taste testing and eating icing straight out of the bowl.
Really, her job was awesome. Which made up for her personal life being lame. Most of the time.
Of course, her aim was to get both her personal life and work life in order. Stupid Luke.
Heat flooded her face as she remembered everything that had happened last night. Luke had carried her out of Grey’s over his shoulder like she was a sack of potatoes. And then this morning he had driven her back into town in the same dress she’d been wearing the night before and…
She leaned forward, pressing her head against the cool surface of the countertop. She knew what people would think. Everyone in town knew Luke. Everyone knew her. Everyone also knew that they were just friends, so no doubt what had been witnessed by all and sundry last night, and this morning, would be taken in with great interest.
There was a knock on the door and Mel turned her head, frowning. Then she pushed up from the counter, straightening as she crossed the kitchen and moved through the living area, toward the front of the cabin.
She stretched up onto her tiptoes and looked out the window, groaning when she saw Luke’s handsome face through the glass. He was probably here to apologize. After all, carrying her out of the bar had been a little bit over the top, even for him. He was overprotective on a good day, but that had been ridiculous.
She took a deep breath and opened the door. “I’m surprised to see you.”
He shrugged. “I told you I would be around.”
She stepped out of the doorway, allowing him entry. “Yes, you did. You didn’t say why.”
“I know. We were a little busy.”
Something about the way he said that felt heavy with meaning that didn’t exist. They hadn’t been
busy
, busy. Last night, nothing had happened beyond the two of them falling asleep in separate locations in the motel room.
“If by busy you mean ‘drunk and angry,’ then sure.”
“I wasn’t drunk,” he said. “One shot is not going to put me under the table.”
“No, but it
did
seem to put me over your shoulder.”
“That had nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with your terrible decision making, which, I realize, was slightly connected to alcohol.”
“Nope,” she said, crossing her arms and pushing her hip out to the side, “hate to disappoint you, Shuller, but I made that decision sober.”
“You don’t want me to know that shit, Mel. I’ll roll you up in bubble wrap and stick you in your bedroom until you start behaving yourself again.”
“Um…excuse me, asshole, I’m twenty-eight. Not eighteen. Not eight. I’m a grown woman and I will make my own damn decisions, even if they’re bad, and you’ll deal with it. Or you won’t. But they aren’t your decisions so it isn’t your choice.”
“Is there something in the water around here?” he asked, his voice a growl. “Could you ladies maybe look for your independence somewhere other than in a random dude’s pants?”
“I’m sorry…what?”
“Nothing,” he said.
“Okay, seriously.” She planted her hands on her hips. “What is your problem?”
Luke started to pace the length of the living area. “Who says I have a problem?”
“Um. Your posture. Your every mannerism. The words you’re speaking. The bruise on your cheek. What happened, Luke?”
He paused. “Beckett punched me in the face.”
Melanie blinked. “Beckett? Beckett Larson. Beckett Larson punched you in the face.” Beckett was Luke’s best friend and business partner. Though, the two had had a bit of a falling out a month or so ago. Still, she’d thought they were dealing with that. And not with fisticuffs.
“Yeah, well, you should see him.”
“He looks worse?”
Luke cleared his throat. “Well, he looks the same.”
It was obvious to Melanie she was going to have to drag the story out of him. “Okay, why did Beckett punch you in the face?”
“Because I punched
him
in the face.”
“Luke, my kingdom for a deeper explanation.” Unsurprisingly, she got nothing. She sighed. “It may have escaped your notice but you’re twenty-eight, Luke. You aren’t thirteen. Solving your problems with your fists is frowned upon in civilized society. Also, carrying women out of bars isn’t acceptable in polite society, while we’re at it.”
“Good thing this is Montana.”
“Ha. Ha ha.” She gave him her most deeply unamused look.
He tried his best sheepish smile on her, and she refused to return it. She was still mad at him. “Do you have cake?” he asked.
“Does the forest have trees?”
“I would rather have cake right about now. I don’t want to get pine needles in my teeth.”
“Come on.” She turned and walked back through the modest entryway and into the kitchen. When her grandmother had moved into a retirement community in Bozeman, she’d left the house to Melanie. It had been the best gift Melanie had ever received. This cozy little cabin on the outskirts of Marietta had been the first place she’d ever felt safe.
She walked back into the kitchen and flicked the switch on her electric kettle, heating water to make a French press since she knew Luke wouldn’t want cake without coffee. In that, they were of one mind. A comforting thing, since right now she felt like she didn’t even know him.
“Okay, Luke. It’s story time. And if you’d like to build in an explanation for your caveman behavior last night, I’ll take it.”
“I don’t think I owe you an explanation,” he said, walking toward the covered platter at the far end of the island, lifting the glass dome and examining the cake that was beneath it. There was a quarter of chocolate with chocolate frosting with ganache drizzled over the top and about a third of a raspberry hazelnut cake with little meringues on top of the frosting. Luke eyed them both. “Are either of these gluten free?”
“No.”
“Good.” He walked over to the far cabinet and pulled out a plate before going back to the platter and slicing himself a piece of the chocolate.
“My gluten-free cake is fantastic. You would never even be able to tell the difference.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Well, I beg
you
tell me why the hell you punched Beckett Larson in the face.” She crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter, fixing her best Grandma Mina stare on him. She had learned a thing or two growing up with the sweet, but formidable old woman.
“I should have guessed when you told me you saw Kaitlin leave the wedding with him.”
She frowned. “Should have guessed what?”
Luke looked down, his expression dark, filled with deadly intent. “Kaitlin is pregnant.”
Melanie’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
“Pregnant. With Beckett’s evil Hell spawn.”
“I can’t believe that he would –”
“Believe it. The asshole stole money from our business. So why wouldn’t he knock up my little sister?”
She blinked rapidly. “Oh, a lot of reasons. I mean, he could have just put sugar in your gas tank if he was pissed at you. Getting your sister pregnant is a little bit elaborate.”
“That bastard is lucky I didn’t kill him.”
Mel decided that this called for a temporary ceasefire. She was still pissed about his behavior last night, but all things considered, she was going to let it go for a little bit.
“Definitely.” She frowned, thinking about Kaitlin. Luke’s sister was sweet, and definitely not the femme fatale type that bad boys like Beckett seemed to prefer. A relationship between the two of them seemed… Impossible. And Melanie would have thought a little bit better of Beckett than that. Sure, all that stuff had gone down between him and Luke and the garage, but still. She had known him, even if it was a little bit distantly, since middle school. He might have the swagger and the motorcycle of a bad boy, but she had always thought there was more to him than that. “What did Kaitlin say about it?”
“I didn’t ask her any details.”
“She’s a grown woman,” Melanie pointed out.
“Yeah. Kind of. But Beckett is a manwhore. Lesser women have fallen prey to him. It isn’t fair.”
The hypocrisy of that statement burned a little bit. Luke seemed intent on passing judgment on everyone else’s sexual activities while continuing to engage in his own. She wasn’t an idiot, and she wasn’t blind. She knew what she’d seen back at the garage a couple weeks earlier.
But, ceasefire. But
temporary
.
He was going to get his earhole reamed by her later. “While I’m certain you are a saint, Luke, you still don’t have a lot of room to comment here. As long as he didn’t coerce her…”
Luke scowled. “I’m not saying he did
that
.”
“Then it’s her fault too. Women are also involved in these choices, you know. We also like sex.” She figured. In theory.
That made Luke’s scowl deepen. “If a zebra walks up to a lion and asks to be eaten, the lion still did the eating.”
The water in the kettle reached the boiling point and the switch flipped off. Melanie picked it up and walked over to the French press, pouring some fresh grounds in the bottom before pouring the hot water on top, and putting the lid on. “You lost me at exotic animal metaphors.”
“I’m never going to be okay with it.”
“That’s a great plan, Luke. Because you’re going to have your first niece or nephew and you can spend the whole time hating the child’s father.”
“I don’t see a problem with it.”
She sighed. “I don’t suppose you would.”
“Anyway, that’s why I told my parents we’re dating.”
Chapter Four
‡
L
UKE KNEW THAT
he was in serious physical danger. Well, not really because Melanie was tiny. But, there were a lot of knives in her kitchen. She’d looked borderline homicidal from the moment he walked into her house, and it had only gotten worse.
“I had to explain why I was back in town. And my explanation was a bit abridged when my mom commented that she had heard that I was seen dropping you off at your truck in your outfit from the night before. After we were seen leaving together.”
“Of course,” she said, her tone flat.
“I needed a reason to be here. One that wasn’t Kaitlin being pregnant. She hasn’t told them yet. She doesn’t know when she’s going to. I’m mad at her, and I’m mad at Beckett, but I’m not going to blow things up by bringing my parents into it when things aren’t settled.”
“So, you lied about us?”
“I told them that it happened after the wedding.”
“What is wrong with you, Shuller? Who tells their parents they’re sleeping with someone?”
Luke shoveled a bite of cake into his mouth. “It isn’t like they thought I was a virgin.”