Page 7 of Nothing to Fear

“You’re the only one who can do the cupcake frosting right.”

Each of the thirty stations in the tent was manned by teams from various businesses around the city. Unofficially, a little healthy competition ran between the two Breckenridge teams. Not only in this event, but others they participated in too.

It was kind of a thing. A long running thing. Was itcompletelyhealthy on all their parts…? No, not exactly.

Many years ago, Celeste and her archnemesis, Maureen, from the luxury leather department, started at Breckenridge Retail together. At one point, according to legend, they’d been friends. Whatever went wrong happened way in the distant past, way, way, distant. There were so many versions that she couldn’t make head nor tail of the truth. Not that she ever really asked or investigated with laser-precise focus… or any focus at all really. Still, nothing like a little palace intrigue to keep the peasants happy.

“Oh my God,” Nessa gasped from further down the opposite side of their counter.

Celeste whipped around, following the younger woman’s line of sight. She couldn’t help but do the same when her boss’s jaw fell.

“Shit.” Yvette’s sentiment matched the rippling intrigue of whispers and stares engulfing the tent. See, peasants happy. “That’s Alice Breckenridge.”

“With the bodyguards?”

“Those are not bodyguards, they’re her boys… two of them anyway.”

Big and broad, they dwarfed their mother who glided like she was on castors past flanking baking stations. Beautiful, with blonde hair in a French roll lined by pearls, real she’d bet, the lady reeked of class. The regal woman acknowledged all without stopping or touching anyone.

The Breckenridge family. American royalty.

Her boys were less refined, but no less entrancing.

“Go frost those cupcakes,” Yvette hissed in her ear.

Yes, cupcakes. Look busy. Not like they were agog at the spectacle of the richest people any of them ever breathed near.

What was the point of charity when people like them existed?

Placing cherries on top of the already frosted cupcakes, they had to get those ones out of the way to make space for more. Concentrate. Nothing to see here, rich folks. Just common people, living out their meaningless existences. Ants in the farm, organized chaos. Underlings. Minions. Inferiors.

“Hello.”

“Mrs. Breckenridge!” Celeste rushed past her. She didn’t turn to see why, not with that Breckenridge voice so close. Cupcakes. Cherries. “Wow, this is unexpected.”

“We’re showing our support. Wonderful to see Breckenridge people working hard for a good cause.”

“We take part in as many charity events as we can,” Celeste said. Yeah, especially when Luxe Leather signed up. “Several a month.” Keeping them busy. “We have a stall just outside, selling the produce.”

“Yes, we saw that, it’s very busy,” Alice Breckenridge said. “We didn’t want to interrupt.”

“We have fresh baked goods here. Would you like a taste?”

“My boys would.”

“Mom—”

“These women have worked hard. Appreciate their labor.”

Two cupcakes were swiped from her station, including one she hadn’t dressed.

“Thank you,” a deep voice purred. “What’s your name?”

“Celeste and this is—oh—” She got an elbow in the ribs. “Cherry. Cherry.”

Right, cherry.

Spinning around, cherry aloft, her stomach bottomed out as a rush of heat flooded her head. Damn, dark, masculine eyes locked on her and suddenly she couldn’t breathe let alone see to put the cherry in place.

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