Then Chloe and I flew in to visit my parents. On the drive from the Denver airport, we stopped in West Bend and I fell in love. There was a "for sale" sign on the bakery door and I don't know why I called the real estate agent about it, but I did. Any other day, I'd have talked myself out of something like that. It's a pipedream, I'd have told myself. It's completely unrealistic and you'll fail. Except that day, I didn't.

It was a bargain price for the bakery, and suddenly I was doing a loan application and creating a business plan.

There have been days I was so proud of Chloe and I for making it here and getting through this on our own. And there have been so many days I thought coming to a small town like West Bend was surely the biggest mistake I'd ever made.

I thought that moving Chloe here and away from my husband's tainted legacy would be a way of preserving her innocence. The last thing on earth I want is for Chloe to be bullied because of my past - or my late husband's past, to be more accurate. I hate that Chloe is losing her faith in fairy tales at six years old. She should believe in happy endings.

There are no happy endings in store for me, and life is definitely not a fairy tale - even if some guy comes barging into my store, trying to rescue me like I'm a damsel in distress. A ridiculously arrogant, pushy guy who stood so close to me that his scent woodsy and leather and manly made my head spin.

He's cocky as hell.

Completely misogynistic.

An uncivilized brute.

And the whole time I was standing there in the kitchen with him, totally appalled by the words coming out of his mouth, I couldn't stop thinking about how his lips felt on mine.

And how he would feel inside me.

I don't even know his name and I'm thinking about how he would feel inside me.

I roll over onto my side, squeezing my eyes tight as if, by doing so, I can force the image out of my head. I can't stop picturing the way he looked the other day when he was standing outside of the general store bare-chested after throwing his shirt into my lap, like he spends his days splitting firewood and sweating in the sun.

He works with his hands.

The thought sends heat surging through my body, right to my core. I mentally chastise myself for the reaction.

How long has it been since I've had a man in my bed? I rack my brain trying to remember. There was that guy I went out with last year. How old was Chloe then? Oh shit, that wasn't last year. That was three years ago.

Is that really the last time I got laid?

So I'm a little hard up. That's all there is to it. It's a totally reasonable explanation for why being in close proximity to that man seems to make my heart race and my breath short - and for why the thought of fucking him sends a tingle of arousal through my body like electricity.

I imagine him slipping his hands under my thighs, picking me up and carrying me across the kitchen in the bakery, and slamming me hard up against the wall.

When he kisses me, it's harder than I've ever been kissed, his touch positively bruising.

I slide my palm up my stomach underneath my cotton t-shirt and over my breast. My nipple hardens under my palm as I picture his mouth enveloping me, his beard rough against my skin as his tongue swirls over my nipple.

He draws it into his mouth, and his tongue pressed hard against my nipple makes me moan.

I hear myself moan under my breath in the stillness of the room and clamp my mouth shut. Thoughts of a man I don't know one bit about shouldn't be having this effect on me.

Except that when I close my eyes, I picture him on his knees between my legs, my skirt never mind that I don't wear skirts to the bakery billowing around his head as he brings his mouth to my pussy.

Kneeling between my legs, he cups my ass, pulling me tightly against his face. His rough beard between my thighs only adds to the sensation.

My fingers find their way inside the front of my panties, my fingertips moving back and forth against my clit, sending another surge of arousal through me. I'm wet. I can feel the dampness on my panties without even sliding my fingers farther down.

The thought of that uncivilized brute is making me wet.

The image in my head is so clear I can almost feel him between my legs right now, sucking my clit into his mouth.

The way he eats me isn't gentle, either he thrusts his tongue inside me, fucking me like he can't get enough. I call out his name, my hands threaded through his hair, pulling him tighter against my body. I'm going to come on his face, but he pulls away from me, chuckling as he unbuckles his belt and reveals his massive cock.

"Condom?" I ask.

He smirks, his mouth glistening with my wetness. "I don't think so," he says. "You want me bare, Lily. Admit it."

Shit, I think. Where did this come from?

My fingers slip lower and then inside, aided by my slickness.

I hear myself gasp as he pushes me against the wall and enters me, totally and completely in one swift motion. He fucks me like he knows exactly how to make my body respond to his every movement. He fucks me like he owns me. My legs wrapped tightly around him, I let go, responding to his touch.

I fuck myself with my fingers, imagining that it's his cock inside me, that it's his cock that makes me come harder than I've come in a long time, leaving me breathless, my heart racing as I lie in bed.

"I'll see you at three." I plant a kiss on the top of Chloe's head.

"Ugh, mom," she protests, squirming away. "Not in the drop-off line. Everyone will see you. That's like, a kindergarten thing."

I watch her walk into the door of the school carrying her backpack. She's seven years old going on thirteen. A wave of nostalgia washes over me so intensely that it nearly takes my breath away. I think about all of the things Adam is missing with Chloe and silently curse him for everything he was involved in and for getting himself killed. Even if he wasn't a good man, he was her father.

At the bakery, there are a few customers at the register, people grabbing coffees and baked goods on the way to work and a couple of retirees lounging around having a slow breakfast as they read the paper. It's the tail end of breakfast, and I feel badly leaving Opal to manage the store alone while I'm busy doing the morning routine with Chloe. I remind myself to put an ad in the town newspaper for a replacement for Rachel. Obviously, the "help wanted" sign in the window isn't cutting it because we've had a grand total of three applicants in the past few days, all of whom were total duds.

"Sorry about leaving you to handle this on your own," I tell Opal, barely glancing around the bakery as I head to the back and grab my apron. When I get to the front, I dive right in.

"Triple espresso with cinnamon and a touch of cream to go?" I ask the man in line. He's been a regular since we opened, and every morning is the same order without fail.

"You got it," he says, stepping to the side.

Then I look up, paper coffee cup in hand. "What the hell is he doing here?"

Opal pauses from ringing up a customer to give me a look. Did I just say that out loud?

He's sitting at an empty table wearing jeans and a grey t-shirt, a charcoal-and-red-checkered flannel shirt on top, unbuttoned like a jacket. His legs are stretched out in front of him, his dark work boots propped up on the leg of the table like he's relaxing in his own living room. He's holding a newspaper in front of him, seemingly focused on what he's reading, but when I look at him, he folds down the edge and meets my gaze. The edges of his mouth turn up in a smug smile before he flips the paper back up and goes back to reading.

Opal leans over between customers and knowingly says, "Seems like that boy is looking for something."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I turn around and ignore the look she gives me, busying myself with making a new pot of dark roast coffee, one of the special orders I get from Hawaii.

"No?" Opal nudges me. "He's been sitting there for an hour."

"Good for him."

"Why don't you go over there and give him a muffin?" Opal suggests innocently, but I know better.

"I'm busy working, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I notice you're working up front behind the counter instead of in the back of the store." Opal counts change for a customer and hands her a box of baked goods. "Have a nice day, honey."

I turn around, ready to wait on the next customer and ignore Opal, but there are no more customers in line. When I glance over at Caveman again, he's behind his newspaper. As much as I'm irritated that he's here again, when I look at him I can still feel his lips on mine, and my breath quickens the same way it did when he stormed in here and kissed me.

6.

Killian

"What are you doing here?"

I look over the edge of my newspaper when I hear her voice. "Enjoying a relaxing morning with a newspaper and a cup of coffee. You?"

She narrows her blue-grey eyes and her nostrils flare again. I think that might be the most seductive expression I've ever seen on a woman. Or I'm just hard up and it's been too long since I've gotten laid. Probably the latter. "I'm working. At my job. I know you're not here because you like the coffee."

I fold the newspaper and lay it on the table. "You really shouldn't sell yourself short. Your coffee is good."

Lily raises one eyebrow and crosses her arms over her chest. "That is not my coffee," she says, eyeballing the tall glass on the table.

"It's your brew. I just doctored it up my way."

"Don't you have someplace to be?" she asks. "Other than here, I mean?"

"Nope." I decide to push my luck. I don't know why this girl makes me want to push my luck with her but there you have it. "Besides, I like the scenery here."

My eyes stay fixed on her as a faint tinge of pink rises to her cheeks. "Do you usually stalk girls you kiss?"

"That was hardly a kiss."

She coughs out a laugh. "I guess our definitions of that word are totally different."

"I can show you what a real kiss is, if you'd like." I'm joking, just egging her on, except with the way she looks standing here in front of me with her lush lips slightly parted, there's nothing more I'd like to do right now than feel those sweet lips on mine again.

She raises her eyebrows. "You're so generous."

"What can I say? I'm a giver."

"You're something," she agrees, tossing me a look over her shoulder as she walks back toward the front counter. I watch her walk away, although walk away isn't the right term for it. She practically sashays, her hips swing seductively as she takes long strides. I'm far too fixated on the way her ass looks in those jeans for my own good.

Cupcakes and Cappuccinos is comfortable, a decent place to have a cup of coffee and read the newspaper. That was what I told myself when I got into the truck this morning and drove thirty minutes into town for a cup of coffee. Total bullshit, of course. The view of her walking away just now made it worth the drive.

I open the newspaper back up to the sports section, because if I stare at her from over here any more, she'll be justified in thinking I'm a stalker.

Not more than ten minutes later, she's back and standing in front of my table. "Here. Try this." She sets down a glass of iced coffee on the table.

I peer into the liquid. "Coffee ice cubes?"

"And espresso. So it's not watered down. You said you needed caffeine."

I take a sip of the coffee drink. "You're alright, cupcake. This is good shit."

"Enough with the names."

"Sure thing, muffin."

She glares at me. "Never mind. I take back the coffee."

"Too late, bear claw."

She shakes her head slowly, one hand on her hip, her lips pursed.

I shrug. "You're right. Bear claw wasn't very good. I'm pretty much out of pastry names, unless you want me to call you doughnut. Or cream puff? Wait. Hang on what are the long ones with the cream inside?"

She narrows her eyes at me. "Is that a crude innuendo?"

"It wasn't, but I like where your mind is at." I remember the pastry name. "eclair."

Lily rolls her eyes. "I'll get you a to-go cup for that coffee, then."

"Nah, I'm just fine here, sugar," I call to her retreating back as she passes the counter, the kitchen doors swinging behind her.

I don't know if it's the coffee or seeing her, but there's an extra spring in my step when I leave the coffee shop. Halfway down the block, I run into Luke.

"Am I losing my mind or did you just walk out of a bakery?" Luke asks. "A cupcake bakery with a pink sign over the door?"

"Shut up."

Luke laughs. "Tell me you went in for one of the froufrou coffee drinks in there."

I shrug. "So what if I did, little brother?" I ask, wrapping my arm around his neck and putting him in a headlock. "Maybe I like little froufrou drinks."

Luke makes a faux strangling noise and I let him go. "What are you doing in town?" he asks. "I thought you were all about shunning us and staying up in your cabin. Are you coming down from on high to grant us with your presence?"

"I had to retreat to my cabin to get away from you and Autumn and all your lovey-dovey bullshit. I think the two of you might be worse than the twins and their girls."

"Hell no. Worse than Elias and Silas? Now you're being insulting."