Page 48 of Kandie Shoppe

“One. You don’t know that. Two. I’m not willing to risk you, wildcat.” I take my time assessing the area, pretty sure she’s right, but I don’t take chances anymore, especially when it comes to her.

Ignoring the short intake of breath at my back, I continue into the bakery. Striding through the darkened space, my nose tingles with the permanent smell of yeast, sugar, vanilla, chocolate, and a hint of rose.

Glancing over my shoulder, I make sure Kandie’s staying where I left her just outside of the shop. I duck back into the kitchen. Flipping the light on, I notice nothing out of place. The freezer is opened. And I walk in. On the shelf third from the bottom is a robin’s egg blue stationary card. It’s from a pack of stationary Kandie had on a little table in her reading nook.

Opening it, I frown at the words scrawled in an erratic script.

Kandie,

I was upset, okay? Seeing you with him makes me angry. You never smile at me like that. I wouldn’t want you to either — what we have is real love. I want you to keep your sweet smiles.

He’s not a good man, despite his position. He didn’t even earn it. Just like he didn’t earn you. I remain your first and ever love. Be good for me. I’ll be watching.

~A

Tuckingthe envelope in my pocket, I make a quick sweep of the rest of the freezer before heading back out to the kitchen, checking the rear. I’m pretty sure he went out the back door because the front would expose him to discovery.

My brain is already going through every name that starts with A as I pick apart everything I’ve committed to memory. I won’t have another chance to look at the message. There is no way I’m going to allow her to think both of her sacred spaces were violated by this guy.

I’d come over after I was radioed by Garcia she’s escaped again. How she’s doing it is nuisance enough. I didn’t put her mugshot or the police report in the state or national database. I never had the intention of doing it. Just wanted to give her little spiteful ass a wake-up call. For years she’s been skating by on trouble with barely a slap on the wrist. The truth is, she’s a public nuisance when she’s not baking. It’s a rare weekend when she’s not in the middle of some brawl at one of the local dive bars. Why they haven't banned her is a wonder in itself. I guess if they banned her, they’d lose half their patronage. People love her wildcat ways.

He left a spare key that she keeps hanging on a key rack in her kitchen. His subtle way of letting her know how thorough he was. Rage sits on my chest like a boulder. I can’t wait to kill this bitch. He scared my little wildcat. Destroyed everything she worked so hard for, then left a threat with that key, letting her know he’ll be back in so many words if she didn’t leave me alone.

She won’t even have the choice. I protect what’s mine, and she’s been mine from the moment she gave herself to me. The years don’t fucking matter. Kandie Love is mine.

Not giving myself time to question why that is, I all but stomp back through The Kandie Shoppe until I’m opening the door.

“All clear,” I say before she can make a liar out of me by asking if he was here.

“Told you,” she softly chides, pressing a soft hand into my chest. Grabbing her hand, I press a kiss on her knuckles before dropping her hand. Turning to survey the room, I start getting the front of the shop ready for the day.

“You better get started baking, wildcat,” I toss over my shoulder. She stands looking at me for a moment.

“Alright.” To my ears, she sounds a little relieved. I watch her once she turns for some reason, unable to take my eyes off her.

In short order, I fill the dispensers at the tables for the napkins, sugar. I start the coffee.

“It’s really strong,” Kandie says, a light dusting of flour covering her when she comes to do a taste test. “I like yours better.” She throws me a blazing smile, giving my shoulder a little squeeze.

Why does it feel like she’s pouring sunshine on my bruised soul?

By the time the regulars start milling in, we have biscuits, scones, cinnamon rolls, muffins, and pastries. Some people order breakfast sandwiches of sausage, eggs and cheese.

“Uh-uh, Mr. Charlie,” Kandie says to the gruff mechanic, who is giving her a frown that should be sending fear into her.

“Ms. Shirley cornered me just the other day saying she was going to have my head if I gave you any sweets with the way your sugar diabetes is out of control. You can have those sugar free muffins I made for the folks with dietary restrictions or I can call her and tell her you’re over here acting up.” She moves over to get one out of the case. “Try it. I promise you’re going to love them just the same, if not more. This one is free to try.”

“Alright, then.” The man sighs heavily, knowing he’s good and caught.

Ducking my head to save his dignity, I grab another set of gloves to replace the ones tearing from being too small before I start packing more breakfast sandwiches for the people taking them to go.

“Um-hm, I see y’all together now for real this time,” Mr. Charlie grumbles before his mouth presses into a hard line. I would think he was displeased if his eyes weren’t alight with mischief as he regards a now bristling Kandie.

“Minding your own business is free, Mr. Charlie — respectfully.” She adds on the last part with obvious reluctance, handing him a bag along with a coffee she made for him with monk fruit replacing white sugar.

“Kandie-girl, you are our business. Have been for a long time, sweetheart.” He winks, covering her hand with his pale one, giving her a little pat.

Throwing me a negligent wave and a dismissive glance, he heads out the door.

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