Chapter 1

Meli

"Doyou always frost your strawberry cupcakes with little hearts?"

My best friend's teasing question caused my hands to freeze, suspended over the pink cupcake, the blob of darker pink icing dangling from my piping bag. "What?" I peeped; my cheeks suddenly hot while my veins ran inexplicably cold.

"Those are little hearts, aren't they?" Jess's elbows rested on the counter beside me. She was the only one besides staff I allowed back here, but these late afternoons were always slow, and no strangers were likely to come in. "I can see them from this angle."

I forced my hands to move again, one cradling the piping tip and one gently squeezing the gooey frosting. "They're strawberries," I tried haughtily.

"Nope. Hearts." Jess pointed. "See?"

I nudged her hip with mine. "Get your finger out of my light. They're berries, and that'll be obvious when I put the little green stems on them."

I hadn't planned on putting greenery on these cupcakes, but I couldn't afford anyone to think these were hearts.

Especially the one I'd made them for.

"If you give me a taste, I promise to pretend like I believe you meant for those things to be strawberries," Jess wheedled.

It was difficult not to smile. Having a bestie who knew the way your mind worked could be a blessing…and occasionally a curse. "Fine. Get your finger back over here."

I squirted some of the icing out, and she caught it, careful not to touch the actual piping tip. True to her word, she let me finish my work in peace as she licked the pink frosting from her finger.

"This is good. Karnak and I prefer your muffins, but I might have to bring home a few of the cupcakes," Jess announced as I began to tint a batch green. "How many of these strawberry ones do you have?"

"A dozen," I announced without looking up. "It's a new recipe, and I'll give you six—no, four—as long as you take the ones where I screwed up on piping the berries."

She snorted and pushed away from the counter. "Gladly. You're not selling them?"

I shook my head as I piped. "They were an experiment, and this late in the day, I don't want to save any to sell tomorrow morning." My bake shop would close in another thirty minutes, and I was ready to get home and fall into bed.

But first…

Jess had settled into one of the chairs tucked against the far wall. I'd put in a little bistro table and chairs over there a few years ago, when one of the local restaurants was getting rid of them. My best friend used to come visit me a few times a week after work—after her work—and we'd sit back here in the slow hours.

Now that she'd married Karnak, she was here less frequently, but I loved how easy our friendship was.

"Why are you baking so late in the day? You're only here this late a few times a week, right? Did you just get bored?"

I wasn't going to tell her the real reason, not yet.

"Since Peggy opened the shop this morning, I got to sleep in till eight a.m.," I hedged. "She baked the batter I left for her, so I didn't get to do much baking today." Before she could push, I sighed happily and straightened. "I'm glad I let you talk me into hiring an assistant. I can't really afford it, but it's nice to not have to wake up before dawn every morning."

Jess snorted. "Plus, she can close the shop the other two days of the week, so you can go home at a reasonable hour. Remember when you used to open at six a.m. and stay here till six p.m.?" Luckily, she didn't give me a chance to answer because truthfully, I didn't remember those early days—I'd been exhausted! "But what do you mean, you can't afford it? I thought the shop was doing well? Please tell me it's doing okay."

Honestly? I understood her panic.

Jess had moved to our tiny island to become Eastshore's Community Development Coordinator. It was up to her to ensure our community grew and thrived. The problem was that for many years, we weren'tgrowing, much less thriving.

Eastshore Isle wasn't isolated, but it was only accessible via ferry, which regularly made the crossing to the mainland. Because of that, tourist traffic was slow, which was fine with most of us. But it meant that quite a few of our businesses had struggled financially, and as storefronts closed and people moved from Eastshore, those that remained had even fewer customers.

"Meli." Jess had sat up and yanked my attention back to her. "Meli, tell me Main Street isn't concerned again? I thought, with our population growing…"

"Oh, no, no, it's not that!" I began to stack six of the prettiest cupcakes into one of my pink cardboard boxes. "Your idea was awesome, Jess, truly. It's working. It's such a relief to have so many new residents, honest, and every store owner I've spoken to feels the same way."

"Really?"

Jess was peering at me suspiciously, and I smiled. "Really. It was a brilliant idea to invite so many people to move to Eastshore. I'm certain they're all glad to have a real place to belong."

Her expression softened from worried to fond. "Have I told you how much I love you for calling orcs people?"

"Pshaw. My bestie is married to one, you know." And that wasn't the only reason…

"Oh, I'd heard that!" Jess quipped with faked surprise. "Lucky woman!"

It had been a decade since orcs joined our world, but truthfully, most humans I knew hadn't bothered to think much about what the newcomers were doing. It wasn't until I moved to Eastshore and actually met three of them that I began to notice.

And it wasn't until my bestie went and fell in love with one that we realized how incredibly lonely they were without a place of their own to belong. It had been Jess's idea to reach out to the displaced orc populations - and some other monsters…- and offer them a place on Eastshore Isle. When she pitched the idea to the town council, they agreed.

Thanks to her new hubby's connections, it was working.

There weren't tons of new residents, but we were hearing of more of them each week.

Orcs in Eastshore, who would've thought.

Well, maybe someone did…

I stared down at the box of strawberry cupcakes. He would be arriving soon, like he did every Wednesday. And Monday and Friday. Just coincidence those were the days I stayed late? I started baking some new recipes, so he could have fresh cupcakes…and last week, he'd even given me one of his rare compliments.

If "Those brown ones didn't completely suck," offered with the barest smirk could count as a compliment.

It had made me smile in any case.

"Melinda!" From Jess's teasing tone, I guessed she'd said something to me I had missed. I whirled around to see her mid-eyeroll.

"What?"

"If business is bouncing back, thanks to our new residents, then why did you say you can't afford the assistant? What's changed? You could afford Peggy when you hired her—"

"Oh, no, it's not like that," I interrupted, wanting to reassure her. I moved the box behind the glass case and scooped up my frosting bowl to plop into the sink. "I just meant that I should be saving money right now. I don't regret hiring Peggy, not at all, but if I want to expand—"

"Expand how?" When Jess shook her head in confusion, her red hair bobbed around her shoulders. "You haven't mentioned anything about this."

"I didn't?" I asked meekly, giving her my back so I could begin the dishes.

One mighty huff later, and Jess was standing beside me, her hip against the counter, holding a dish towel, ready to dry. Payback for all the free iced tea, I guess.

"Sooo…" Clearly still trying to understand my earlier comment, Jess was going for nonchalance when she asked again. "You want to expand, huh? That's exciting."

It was something I hadn't talked about—not to her or anyone—but it was probably time.

"Just something I've been thinking about. If I can manage it, I thought it would be cool to get some business on the mainland."

Jess's eyes widened. "You're moving?" she breathed, half horrified, half tortured.

"Oh, no no nonono!" If my hands weren't all soapy, I might've reached for her, but I settled on a smile as I handed her a spatula to dry and put away. "I was thinking like…now Peggy can watch the bakery, I could take Sweetcheeks to the mainland once a week or so and—I dunno—deliver cookies to stores over there. Sell at fairs and festivals. That sort of thing."

I was trying to minimize the idea. I'd actually spent hours researching the concept, and I think it would take a lot of work—and capital—but had real potential.

Jess, however, wasn't sold.

"Why? Are you…do you really need the business, Meli?" She sounded suspicious, searching my face instead of focusing on the bowl she was half-assedly drying. "That sounds really hard."

"That's what she said," I quipped back automatically.

Predictably, Jess rolled her eyes.

"I mean that you live upstairs, and your rent—on the apartment and this building—is stable. Is Sweetcheeks up for this kind of adventure?"

I winced.

Sweetcheeks was what I—and the rest of the town—called my 1970 hardtop coupe Karmann Ghia. He was baby blue, as curvy as I was, and twice as temperamental. A complete diva. He spent most of his time at Eastshore's only autobody shop because he required near-constant maintenance from a talented mechanic.

"I don't think so," I admitted. "I think I need to sell him and get something reliable. I'm hoping Cairo can get him purring again so I can put him up on some websites."

Jess made a little sound of pity, then her arms wrapped around me from the back and her cheek pressed into my shoulder blades—the highest she could reach. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "That must've been a really ha—difficult decision."

My lips twitched at the near miss of an innuendo, but I allowed myself to relax into her hug. "I haven't done it yet. I can't stand the thought of giving Sweetcheeks up to just anyone. Daddy would—"

I felt Jess shake her head against my back. "Your father gave you that car as a graduation gift. He knew it was a classic, and he knew you'd take care of it." She straightened and squeezed my stomach in tempo to emphasize her next words. "But he also knows it's just not a practical car for everyday use, Meli!"

She was right. Logically, I knew Daddy wouldn't be hurt if I sold Sweetcheeks but try explaining that to my heart!

After a moment, Jess sighed and pulled back, stepping away. I pretended great interest in soaping the bowl in front of me—Yep, that's me, washerwoman extraordinaire. Just washing this bowl. Wash wash wash, nothing to see here—as she sighed.

"Does…" Jess began hesitantly. "Does he have anything to do with your decision to expand?"

My heart squeezed in momentary panic—which he did she mean?—before Jess clarified.

"Did your father say something to make you think you needed to—Oh-em-gee no!" I peeked over at her to see my bestie slapping the dishcloth against her open palm and glaring at the cabinetry as if she personally hated stainless steel. "It's your mom, isn't it, Meli? She said something to you—I'm guessing something about you not being good enough? And now you think you need to expand and start some big, special multi-state bakery conglomerate in order to be considered a success. No, don't bother denying it—I know I'm right."

I pressed my lips together. She was right.

"Well?" Jess huffed and jammed her hands on her hips. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Am I allowed to speak now?"

Another roll of her eyes. "Did you get this idea from your mother?"

"Not…exactly."

For instance, Mom hadn't been the one to tell me I needed to expand to the mainland. She'd just…spent some time going on about how there's limited opportunities here on Eastshore Isle, and if I truly wanted to be successful, I'd need to take my business to the corporate level.

"Uuugh," Jess groaned, flopping back to prop her butt against the counter. "This has your mom written all over it. I know how she gets under your skin." She pierced me with a serious look. "But Meli. You don't have to push yourself into some…I dunno, some grand plan just to prove you're good enough for her."

"I'm not," I said, weakly.

Too weakly. I mean, I didn't believe myself.

Jess definitely didn't.

"I'm guessing she said something that made you think you're not awesome as you are, right?" Jess pushed, frowning. "Like, she doesn't think you're successful enough, and she planted the seed of doubt in your head, and now you've got this grand plan to start expanding."

Jess talking in italics was the equivalent of ranting and raving from someone else.

"You're right," I sighed, relieved that my bestie knew my family well enough to understand.

"She's going to be here for the Fourth of July celebrations, right?"

I nodded sadly. "She and Dad and my sister are coming in on the third. We're supposed to talk about Harper's wedding plans, finalize stuff."

"And since Harper is a lawyer, marrying a doctor, I'm sure your mom is just going to let you live your happy life with your successful business and your cute home, and not give you any shit about how you need to be better, huh?"

Sarcastic Jess was even scarier than italics Jess.

She stepped forward to grab my shoulders, the dish towel hanging awkwardly over my upper arm since I was so much taller. "Meli, do you think you're successful? I mean, here on Eastshore, with Meli's Bake Shoppe? Are you happy here? Do you need more?"

I wasn't certain.

Mom had only visited Eastshore a few times, and didn't see how fabulous this sweet little island really was. But yeah, I could admit that her words—her nagging—wore me down. It was the reason I went to culinary college instead of straight into the workforce. It was the reason I went on a dozen first dates—and sometimes more—with sons of her social acquaintances.

And it was why I doubted myself, almost constantly.

But Jess was waiting for an answer.

I took a deep breath and opened my mouth—not even sure what I was going to admit—when I was saved by the bell.

Not a metaphor or a trademark infringement!

Literally, I was saved from answering by the twinkly little bell I'd mounted over the door of the bakery.

And there was only one person who came in this late in the day, this regularly.

It was him.

My chest lightened, the muscles in my jaw loosened, and I felt like smiling—

No. When I was around Cairo, I felt a heck of a lot more. His grumpiness made me want to giggle, which—let's be honest—is a completely inappropriate response. I wanted to make him giggle, which was just ridiculously impossible.

Probably easier to teach a rock how to giggle. A particularly bad-tempered rock. Who was also mouth-wateringly attractive.

"Cairo!" I called out, too loudly, as I ducked around Jess. Let her think I was grateful for the interruption, instead of excited to see him. "I have your cupcakes right here! I tried a new recipe today; you have to tell me what you think. Did you like the raspberry-vanilla on Monday?"

If he thought I was strange, blathering on the way I was, his expression didn't indicate it.

In fact, his expression never indicated his thoughts, unless his thoughts were just a constant loop of what was wrong with the world, because he was always scowling.

Orcs are predisposed to be scary, I have to admit, especially to humans. Over seven feet of green skin, surly natures, and tusks. And sometimes claws.

So Cairo scowling all the time didn't exactly stand out. It just served to make him look angrier—I think it's because his tusks were larger than any other orc's I've seen—and scarier.

But not to me.

I'd liked looking at him since I moved to Eastshore. Since I realized he was one of the few guys I didn't loom over. Since I realized how sculpted those shoulders were under those ratty mechanic t-shirts he always wore.

I beamed as I held out the pink cardboard box.

"I like strawberries." It was all he said as he stepped up to the counter.

I told myself I shouldn't read more into it. He liked strawberries—so what? Lots of people liked strawberries. That's why I was trying this new recipe, in which I'd tried to capture the flavors of strawberry shortcake.

I like strawberries.I probably shouldn't get giddy.

I did.

"I'm glad," I breathed, placing the box on top of the glass case, and nudging it toward him. "And the raspberry-vanilla?"

Cairo was busy digging a twenty from his wallet, which allowed me to study the top of his head. Okay, I admit it, I'd done a lot of studying of Cairo's various body parts since he'd started coming into my bakery—I was a bit of a connoisseur.

The top of his head wasn't my favorite, but I mean, I'd take what I could get when it came to studying. His black hair was cut short on the sides and long on top. When I met him at the auto body shop, he often had it pinned up or slicked back with something, but today it hung long and shaggy to one side.

"Here," he grunted, handing me the twenty. "No change." He swept up the box, which looked so delicate in his large hands.

His large, green, scarred, engine-oil-under-his claws hands.

Le sigh.

I was staring again. When it came to my studies, Cairo's hands were one of my favorite topics. Along with his lips, his chest, his butt, and…well, let's just say the dude could fill out a pair of jeans in the front department, okay?

He stepped back, started to turn, then paused.

The big orc looked back at me. "I liked the vanilla ones better. The raspberry was too tart."

I couldn't help it; my eyes widened, and I sucked in a breath so fast I went light-headed, my teeth hurting from my huge smile. "That's great to know, thank you!"

He nodded once, then completed his turn and walked out of my bake shop, the bell tinkling merrily.

Sighing, I slumped against the counter, resisting the urge to hum happily.

Instead, I turned to Jess, still grinning…only to find her staring at me, mouth agape.

I glanced down at myself to make sure I didn't drool down my chest or something. "What?"

"Melinda Grace O'Donnell, I'm going to ask this once, and only once, and I want you to answer me truthfully and immediately without any prevarication." She didn't give me time to agree but sucked in a deep breath and spit out, "Whatwasthataboutyouwerejusteyefuckingthatmalewerentyouohmygod."

I stared at her as she got her breathing under control.

Finally I managed, "What?"

She jammed a finger into my chest. "No what, missy, you have to answer me! I'm evoking Best Friends Clause Number Twenty-Three-Point-Two."

We had clauses? Leave it to the town's bureaucrat to have a best friends contract. I shook my head. "I meantcan you please repeat that slightly slower than the speed of sound?"

Jess glared. "I'm not blind. You were eyeballing Cairo like you wanted to take a big bite out of him! You, my friend, have a crush the size of Montana."

No use denying it. I shrugged.

"He's nice."

"No he's not," Jess burst out. "I'm married to his cousin, and Cairo is most definitely not nice. He's grumpy and mean."

"He and Karnak are cousins?"

She waved the words away dismissively. "Third cousins? Something like that. Apparently, a lot of the first cohort of orcs to come to our world are related in some way, since they're from the same clan. Remember Tanis? He was a distant cousin too, I think. My point was, Karnak knows him better than you do, and he says he's mean."

Defensive now, I sniffed and turned back to my dishes. "Cairo's not mean."

"He just insulted your raspberry-vanilla cupcakes!" she cried.

"No, he didn't. He just said he preferred the vanilla ones. That's basically a compliment!"

"Oooooh Lord," Jess murmured, sinking into the chair once more. "You've got it bad for him, don't you?"

I shrugged again. "He's hot. I like looking at him. What, you think you have the monopoly on eyeballing hot orcs?" I sent her a smirk over my shoulder, even as I pulled the plug to drain the sink. "By the time I listened to you waxing poetic about Karnak, Tanis had already left with that cute violinist of his—"

"So your Cairo crush is what?" Jess scoffed. "A rebound crush?"

To be honest, I couldn't recall ever noticing Tanis. He'd just been this orc in the background, polite to everyone, friendly, easy-going…and not nearly as hot as his cousin.

I shook my head. "Jess, it was you going on about your gorgeous next-door neighbor that made me start looking differently at Cairo."

Jess sighed. "He is kinda cute, I guess, if you can get past that scowl. I think…"

Raising my brows, I began to untie my apron. "Yeeeesss?"

"I think you'd better pour us some more tea, bring those reject strawberry cupcakes over here, and let us have a proper dish session."

A chance to convince my bestie that a) Cairo was definitely a gorgeous male specimen worth drooling over, and b) I had no interest or intention of doing anything more than said drooling from afar?

"Deal!"