Unable to Resist (3 page)

Alright, Ann. Now is not the time to be thinking about him.

Even with Dad dying,
that
day hurts even more to think about.

I lean in and hug Liv. “Thank you. It means so much that you don’t think I’m a complete loon.”

She laughs and smacks me on the arm. “Oh no, you’re a loon, but for different reasons.”

I roll my eyes and take our dirty, empty dishes to the sink. Still slightly distracted, I load them into the dishwasher before we quickly head out the door to go to work. Well, if you can call a life’s passion work.

We live above my bakery. When I originally bought the space, the top two floors of the three-story building were empty. Apparently, the guy who owned it had bucket loads of money and couldn’t care less about it. The building had been vacant for ages. The only thing taking residence in it was a bunch of dust bunnies.

James Place isn’t one of those high-end bakeries you see on TV. It’s a cozy little spot in the middle of downtown Nashville. It’s difficult to get over the fact that I live in this lively town. It oozes life.

Oh, and did I mention the music scene? Oh, holy hell. Walk a foot in any direction and I guarantee you’ll hear music somewhere. It’s a big reason why I chose to move here. Music is in my blood.

It just—it wasn’t something I tried to pursue. You know what I mean? My life was a mess after high school graduation and, once Dad died, I had to grow up, fast. I had to stop chasing auditions, and running away from problems. I needed stability, and had to find a career.

So, what did I do? I opted for my second love, baking. It might have been one of the scariest moments in my life, but I did it. I took the leap and opened my shop.

Knowing I have my own business, and it’s somewhat successful makes getting up a little easier. It fulfills me. Not all of me, but it is what it is.

What do I expect? I’m not naïve enough to believe that a cupcake can cure a broken heart, but what job does? I’ve accomplished a lot in the short amount of time, and I’m grateful.

He taught me that.

Dammit, Ann. Stop thinking about Kyle.

I’ve been here for a little over five years, and opened shop almost four years ago. To say that the first year was hard would be an understatement. I mean, who would have suspected opening a little bakery that sold mostly healthy baked goods in the middle of a city that loves fried chicken—hell, fried anything—would be so difficult? I like to sarcastically joke about it now.

But, then? Not so much.

Don’t laugh; these people love their fried food.

Luckily, word got around that our food was actually worth eating, and my customers started spreading the good news. So, today, and every day, I have a steady flow of customers.

You’d think I wouldn’t recognize anyone in such a big city—that they would all blur into nameless faces, but I’m lucky enough to have amazing regulars.

Speaking of those regulars, two just stepped in my door.

“Good morning, boys. How are you this morning?” I ask the two older men.

Chet is the first to answer me. “Hi, sweetie. We’re good. How about you?” He asks sweetly. While his friend, Alfred, rolls his eyes, but still winks at me.

Always the charmer.

“I’m good, Chet. Go on and have a seat.” I motion for the tables. “I’ll bring you your coffee. Doughnuts this morning?” I look to both of them.

For the first since walking in, a smile appears on Alfred’s face. “Sounds good.”

I nod my head and begin to fill their order. Placing the plates and cups carefully on my forearms, I head to their table.

The clamor of clanking kitchenware fills the bakery. It’s astonishing what goes into a cup of coffee these days. The place echoes with the sound of fresh coffee beans grinding and the whoosh of espresso machines.

When I approach, the two men are full on arguing.

“You’re full of shit, Chet!” Alfred yells, his belly hitting the table as he points a finger in Chet’s direction. His light red hair just barely covers the top part of his head, and his blue eyes sparkle with mischief. Broad arms show that he still works out. Seventy-seven, retired Air Force, and the man can outrun me on a bad day. His bad day, not mine. I couldn’t keep up with him on my best day.

I set their food on the table. “Uh-oh. What’s up, boys?” I ask.

Alfred harrumphs, and Chet throws his head back and barks out a big, throaty laugh.

I look between the two men and quirk an eyebrow in question.

Chet points his thumb to Alfred. “He’s just angry because I took some of his money last night during our friendly game of poker.” Chet’s smug smile tells me this isn’t a normal occurrence with the pair.

Chet, with his tall body, full head of black hair and grey eyes, looks almost magical. I would have been completely smitten if he was fifty years younger.

The duo met in the military. Deployed during World War II, in different infantries, and found each other in the middle of a war-zone. I never hear too much talk about what happened on the battlefield, but I know they barely escaped death and that experience brought them together to become closer than brothers.

Constantly-arguing brothers, but still.

Alfred scoffs. “You
took
my money?” His question airs with a hint of playful disgust. “You stole it, you bastard. I know you cheated.”

I snicker.

Shaking his head, Chet throws his hands up in surrender. “Think what you want, old man, but I won fair and square. You just can’t take losing.”

Alfred huffs, but I see a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, so I leave them to it.

“Now, now, play nice you two. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

When I turn to head back to the counter I hear the two men chuckle at their own game.

Every morning, eight o’clock on the dot, they say they come for the food, but I know they come to check out the young women who visit my shop
.

Boys will always be boys.

I cover my mouth with my hand, holding in my laughter. They remind me of my grandpa. Forever chasing women.

People come in and out of the shop all day. I meet a few new faces and make small talk with everyone. A day like any other.

I hear Liv sneeze in the back.

My partner in crime, my best friend, Liv is everything.

She actually helped me open the bakery.

I had just graduated community college with a degree in theater and decided to uproot my life and move to Nashville. I know, maybe not the best idea. I didn’t have anywhere to stay; I just packed my stuff and bought a plane ticket. No second thoughts.

I sat down in the first coffee shop I could find, and, with all of my bags surrounding me on the floor, opened my laptop and started working out everything I would need to make my bakery happen.

I had a plan to make my life better, and I was going to see to it.

Liv, like an angel in disguise, had spotted me looking like a lost puppy in a new city and sat down to peer at my computer.

“You know, if you put the counter over there and move the tables to that side, it’ll create more room.” Liv’s eyes scan my screen, absorbing all the details.

I turn to look at her over my shoulder, giving a who-the-hell-are-you look.

She simply smiles, seeming a bit nervous. “My dad is a contractor, I’ve watched him build houses and buildings my whole life. Having the counter on the far north corner will make the space so much bigger.” She points to the center of the laptop screen. “You could even build an island in the middle—looks like it’s a kitchen, yeah?” She asks.

I look to the left, a bit skittish.

“Well then, I’m assuming it’s a kitchen,” she continues. “You could use the enormous island to create all of your dishes and leave the counter tops on the north wall for plating.”

My voice small, I say, “It’s—it’s actually a bakery.”

A warm feature appears on her face, and she scoots her body closer to me. “I’m Liv, by the way.”

I stick my hand out, her kind personality breaking my abnormally icy exterior. “Ann. It’s really nice to meet you.”

She lets go of my hand and glances at the pile that is my life on the ground beside us. She pulls her long platinum blonde hair from her ponytail and braids it down the side. “So, where are you staying?”

I stare, in awe. Her beauty is simply radiating. I’ve always been fairly self-conscious, but seeing Liv, with her small body and perfect hair makes me feel just a little like an ugly stepsister.

Watching this lovely stranger, I’m pulled into a trance, recalling a moment that feels like another lifetime ago.

“You are perfect. I love everything about you,” he whispers in my ear. “I love you more than life, Ann. Always remember that you are all I’ll ever want.”

“I know you say those things now, and thank you, but I see the way other girls look at you, Kyle. I can’t expect you to stay with boring, mundane me.”

Kyle huffs in frustration. “Ann. What do I need to do to show you that you are it for me?”

I slump my shoulders, feeling awful for making him upset. He’s the one person besides Jason that truly understands me, and I’m giving him shit. “I’m sorry. What you do is enough. More than enough.”

I know Kyle doesn’t buy it, but he lets it go for now. “Good, because I’m going to marry you someday, Ann. Then you’ll be mine forever.”

He pulls me into a hug and I again thank God for placing Kyle in my life. My shinning beacon of hope.

Snapping back from my memory, I look up to see Liv staring at me with a goofy grin, kind of like she’s known me for years, not minutes. Shit, she asked me a question, right? “Uhh—I’m sorry. What did you say?”

She laughs and pulls my laptop from my crossed legs, beginning to type. “You were thinking about a boy, huh? Dreamy stare, slight smile. I know that look.”

“I guess so,” I stammer. I look down at my tightly knotted hands. There’s no way I could tell a stranger what happened. No way I’d divulge my biggest secret. It’ll stay hidden forever, if I can help it.

Kindly attempting to ease the tension appearing on my face, Liv spins the laptop around to display her ideas.

I take my time looking over her suggestions and smile.

It was that simple. We became inseparable.

I moved my things to her crappy little one-bedroom apartment, we split the bedroom down the middle with a makeshift curtain, and I was good to go. I had a place where I felt like I belonged and it was my saving grace.

Liv helped me create everything. From where we should put the kitchen to how we would install the wall of books. I don’t know if I could have opened the shop without her.

My issues may be many, but money has never been one—which made pulling off this dream of mine together with Liv a little easier. My parents were ridiculously wealthy. They own—well owned, the biggest public relations agency in Arizona. On top of that, we had a massive ranch that I got paid to help maintain. When my Dad passed, my Mom decided to sell her accounts and move to Portland. Arizona no longer tickled her fancy. Not too surprising, considering.

I worked my ass off at the agency, starting when I was sixteen. Once I graduated high school and turned eighteen, I got my inheritance. Needless to say, I had enough money to open a few more bakeries if I wanted to.

The sun’s about to set behind the horizon. I eye it; waiting for my signal that the day is finally starting to wind down.

God, it’s hot out. It’s five in the evening and it’s still ninety-five degrees.

A slight breeze picks up, ruffling my bronze hair, giving me a bit of relief. My handkerchief is soaked through with sweat already. So, when I pull it out of my back pocket to swipe my forehead, it just smears across my face.

Fuck it. My hand is covered in dirt and soot from the ditch I just dug, but the sweat is stinging my eyes. I risk the chance of scratching my cornea and swipe my dirt-covered hands over my face.

Tipping my cowboy hat back, I look at the clear, blue sky and breathe in my surroundings. My fifty-acre ranch sits on the outside limits of Nashville, and I can hear the faint sound of drums somewhere in the distance.