Nothing to Lose Read online

  Returning to the counter, she swiped a finger across her phone screen. Reading the print at the bottom of the recipe, she sucked in a mouthful of air. ‘How to turn your boring muffins into delicious superstars.’ Seriously, frosting too! She buried her face into her open palms.

  Chapter Two

  ‘What’s up with you today?’ Travis set the new three-tiered stand on the display counter. He had to keep busy. Sitting didn’t work. Unease boiled his nerves. A stranger was in the kitchen. His mother wouldn’t show him the woman’s résumé. He knew nothing of the applicant’s skills. What if she started a fire? ‘I have to go in there.’

  Heather waited on a customer, packaging a box of six red velvet cupcakes. ‘Have a good day.’ She waved to the customer then turned to stare. ‘You’ll do no such thing.’ Arms stretched wide, she blocked passage to the kitchen.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. His mother had pushed him out of the kitchen as the training got underway and she now guarded the doorway to prevent his entry. She oversaw the baking then exited. But Ms Robinson was still in the kitchen. Hearing cupboard doors closing, dishes being moved, and the buzz of the mixer drove him crazy. He raised his arms outward. ‘You said she’s done. What is she doing now?’

  ‘Cleaning up.’ She grabbed his arm and dragged him to sit at one of the tables. ‘Stop trying to ambush the doors. You’ll make her nervous.’

  Frowning, he shook his head. ‘Why would I make her nervous?’

  The bell above the door jingled. An older couple walked into the bakery.

  Travis stood, welcoming the distraction.

  Heather pushed him to his seat. ‘I’ve got this.’ She winked and strode to the counter.

  Her actions confused him. The decided plan was to hold second interviews next week, giving applicants the opportunity to prepare for a baking assessment. Mom had turned up her nose at most of the résumés received. Only at Travis’ insistence had she agreed to interview three possible contenders. Upon meeting them in person, she claimed they weren’t skilled enough or she disliked their attitude. He didn’t argue with her knack for reading people. She’d been leading the way since Travis’ father died. Mom rebuilt her life, and recreated this business.

  How did Jessie Robinson get past Mom’s radar? What made her so distinctive from the other applicants? He knew his answer. When he’d turned and met Jessie’s gaze, he quickly forced his stare to another direction. She resembled a model more than a baker, possessing a faultless stance. Dressed for success in a short-sleeved blouse, skirt, and high heels. A little thin for his taste, but he saw beyond her too-skinny frame. Long brown hair in a windswept style, emerald green eyes, and pouting pink lips captivated him.

  ‘Do you trust me?’

  Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the customers leave or Mom approach the table. ‘What?’

  ‘Do you trust me?’

  ‘You know I do.’

  ‘Then let me take the lead on this one.’ She squeezed his arm.

  Travis gave in. ‘If the kitchen burns down, I’ll have no choice but to fire you.’

  ‘You can’t fire me, but I’ll agree to those terms.’ Mom held out a hand.

  Smiling, he shook her hand. Maybe Mom knew today’s applicant. She hadn’t spoken of Jessie before, so he didn’t understand her confidence in the woman. ‘Tell me more about Jessie Robinson. Why do you think she’s the one?’

  Snickering, Mom grabbed a damp cloth from behind the counter and wiped the tables. ‘I just know.’

  He wanted to question further, but Jessie pushed through the kitchen doors.

  ‘I’m done.’ She shoved blue-stained fingers in the pockets of her apron.

  The longest forty-five minutes of his life came to an end. Stepping past Jessie, Travis stared at the cream tiled floor. He opened the saloon doors and released a breath. Nothing broken or burned. No mess on the counter. The dishes were washed and returned to their place. Impressive. He inhaled an aroma of fresh muffins and guessed the flavour to be blueberry.

  ‘Smells great in here.’ Heather wandered around the room.

  Travis didn’t understand the reason behind his mother’s wide-eyed stare. Her reaction of surprise at the kitchen’s tidy appearance didn’t match her earlier confidence.

  ‘These muffins look delicious.’ Heather studied and sniffed the treat between her fingers.

  He agreed. White and blue polka-dotted muffin cups held a cake decorated with blue frosting and white sprinkles. ‘Very nice.’ Travis stole a glance at Jessie. Blue icing smeared an eyebrow and several strands of her hair. He’d never found a baker so attractive. ‘Pleasing to the eyes.’

  Mom covered her mouth with a hand, muffling a giggle with a cough.

  He pointed to the counter. ‘They look delicious.’ He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping he didn’t reveal the real direction of his gawking stare.

  ‘Thank you.’ Jessie moved her stained hands from the pockets and hid them behind her back. ‘I hope you find them pleasing to your taste buds.’

  Mom peeled the paper then bit into the frosting and cake.

  Travis waited for a reaction. Her facial expression would affirm edible or not.

  She lingered on the chewing process then swallowed. Her eyebrows rose and her lips formed a grin. She held up a thumb.

  Travis pulled the paper from the muffin. He breathed in the scent before biting. Savouring the taste of the mouthful, he let the flavour soak in. ‘Not bad.’

  ‘Not bad?’ Mom glared. ‘The cake is moist. The blueberries weren’t overworked. They retained their juice. The icing is sweet without being heavy in sugar. Then there’s the design. Coordinating colours and skilled piping.’

  He couldn’t totally disagree with his mother’s opinion, but he couldn’t completely agree either. ‘I enjoyed the taste, but a blueberry muffin is pretty basic. I’d like to see something more complex.’ Travis avoided Mom’s death-stare. ‘The lunch crowd will be here soon. Maybe Ms Robinson could return tomorrow and bake another dish?’

  ‘Rubbish.’ Mom placed her hands on her hips. ‘We have a winner. I see no reason to continue the nonsense of interviewing further applicants or testing their skills.’

  He struggled to make sense of his mother. ‘You hated every other applicant. Ms Robinson walks in, and you do a three-sixty.’

  ‘Why keep looking when you’ve found the one?’ Smiling, his mother waved a hand to Jessie.

  ‘Stop, please. This is wrong. I can’t bake. I’m not a baker.’ Jessie linked her trembling fingers together. Her chest rose and fell in deep breaths.

  ‘You’re not a baker?’ Travis’ stare shifted to Jessie, then to his mother.

  Jessie nodded. ‘I desperately need a job. I saw your ad in the paper and thought why not?’ She held up a hand. ‘I know. You don’t have to say anything. I made a bad choice. Story of my life.’

  Travis barely caught her last words due to them being muttered under a quick breath. ‘I don’t understand.’ Irritated by the waste of time, he turned to Mom. ‘An explanation would be nice.’

  ‘I lied to Heather. My résumé is a farce.’ Jessie untied the apron from her waist and returned it to the hook. She stepped in front of Travis to collect her purse on the counter.

  The scent of wildflowers swaying from a gentle breeze in an open meadow hovered past his nose and influenced his rational thoughts. Shame tarnished her pale cheeks. A rapid heartbeat echoed in his ears. He snubbed the growing warmth flooding his body.

  ‘I’m sorry for wasting your time. I’ll leave and never set foot in your shop again.’ She stormed to the doors.

  ‘Wait.’ Travis spoke before processing his request to stop her departure. He had nothing to add.

  ‘Yes?’ Turning, her gaze met his.

  Mom, who had set this bizarre charade in motion, raised an eyebrow. ‘You said you desperately need a job?’

  Jessie held up one, then two fingers. ‘I have rent due and a car payment.’ She glanced to the floor. ‘If I
don’t find a job by the end of this week … well, I won’t bore you with details. The outcome is my problem.’

  Travis swallowed past a parched throat.

  ‘Do you know how to take orders, work a register, pour coffee, and clear tables?’ Mom pursed her lips.

  ‘I sure do.’ Jessie beamed a bright smile. ‘I swear I’m telling the truth. No lies.’ She motioned a cross over her chest.

  Travis lost focus. He couldn’t think past Jessie’s luscious pink lips, with which he’d like to make personal acquaintance.

  ‘I’ve found my assistant.’

  Mom’s voice broke his private fantasy. ‘What?’ He ran a hand through his hair.

  ‘We don’t need another baker.’ His mother tilted her head to one side. ‘Abby didn’t bake … much. She mainly supervised the front counter.’

  ‘Your behaviour has me baffled. I have no idea who you are today. Are you feeling okay?’ Mom was naturally quirky, but never wavered. Why did Jessie have his mother acting out of character? ‘You suggested a part-time baker. You needed help in the kitchen, so I cut my hours at work to help you. Then you said I work too hard. I need a life.’ Technically, her words were you need to find a wife, and give me grandchildren.

  ‘I’m fine, and I stand by my judgement on your personal status.’ Mom pointed a finger. ‘However, I may have been wrong about requiring a baker. All we need is someone to cover Abby’s position.’

  Abby, his cousin, was a law student and had been working part-time to pay her college tuition. She alternated shifts at the bakery between her morning and afternoon class schedule. The rotation worked perfectly, allowing Mom to concentrate on orders and baking. Abby’s recent internship at a law office had left his mother overseeing front counter duties as well. Juggling an influx of hungry customers and piping a cake with artistry proved difficult.

  Trained to proficiency by his mother, Travis cut his hours at the fire station to help at the bakery. He worked four days as a baker and three as a firefighter. He loved helping Mom, but with a busy cake season approaching, he’d have to further cut his hours at the fire station.

  He wasn’t sure how long he could keep up the demanding schedule. Or keep listening to Mom’s rants. Working closely with his mother presented Travis with the opportunity to be lectured on his prolonged bachelorhood. She claimed he used work as an excuse to avoid personal commitment. At the age of thirty, a relationship wasn’t on his priority list, but his mother’s health was. He didn’t want her busting her butt alone at the bakery.

  Travis contemplated this new possibility. Jessie could assume Abby’s vacant position, and he could return to his job. Against his better judgement, he surrendered to his mother. With the decision made, he felt the tension lessen from his shoulders. Hands held up in defeat, he shook his head. ‘The front counter position is yours.’

  Jessie rushed to his mother and embraced her in a hug. ‘Thank you.’ She then turned to Travis, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  Silky hair caressed his cheek. Wildflowers teased his nostrils. Warmth invaded his body. He resisted the urge to pull her closer and to cover her mouth with his. Too close for comfort. He straightened, forcing temptation aside. He clasped his hands on her tiny waist and stepped backward.

  Blushing, she glanced downward and smoothed the front of her skirt with a shaky hand. ‘You won’t regret hiring me.’

  He cleared his throat, swallowing the anxiety her words caused. ‘When can you—’

  ‘Tomorrow!’ Jessie pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Okay.’ Travis caught his mother’s grin. ‘Mom will give you the paperwork. She’s also in charge of training. You two work out the details.’ He waved a hand toward the door. ‘Now, get out of the kitchen. I have a baby shower cake to create.’

  He watched Jessie follow Mom out of the room. The sway of Jessie’s hips spiked his blood pressure. I’m doomed. Travis reached for a mixing bowl, hoping to lose himself in a world of desserts. He had to calm his racing heart and forget the sweetness he just hired.

  Chapter Three

  Jessie hit the Off button on the clock. She set the alarm to wake at seven, but couldn’t sleep past six. Excitement bubbled to a boil. Today would be the start of a new beginning. No looking back. No dwelling on past mistakes. She’d been given a second chance. A chance to be herself. No pretence. No facade.

  She showered and dressed, then glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the bedroom wall. The blue Hawaiian floral dress had short sleeves and a handkerchief hem ending an inch below her knees. Hair now air-dried, she ruffled a hand through the long locks before gathering the sides and bangs, and pinning them in a clip on the top of her head.

  Content with her appearance, she walked the four steps from her bedroom into the kitchen. Her studio apartment boasted an open concept. A half-wall bordered the sleeping quarters from the living space and kitchenette. The apartment screamed small, but Jessie found it quaint and homey. Four years in California, living in high-end neighbourhoods and paying steep rental rates, made her crave a simpler life. She packed what little furniture she owned from the pre-furnished unit, rented a truck, and returned home to Dartmouth. The studio apartment fit her needs, minimal belongings, and budget perfectly.

  She turned the rod to open the blinds covering the glass patio door. The view of the Halifax Harbour was the selling point. A picturesque spot for watching the ferry sail to and from Halifax, traffic crossing one of two bridges, holiday fireworks, and the setting sun. She didn’t realize how much she’d missed the quiet until she’d left the chaos of Hollywood.

  The weather channel forecasted sun and above-normal temps for this mid-May day. The beautiful conditions outside boosted her confidence. She had to make a better impression than yesterday. Today, she would prove she could do the job.

  Jessie owed Heather a huge debt of gratitude for sticking her neck out. Her faith in Jessie was surprising, yet uplifting. She regretted walking into the store and pretending she could bake. Thankfully, resorting to honesty resulted in a job offer. She wouldn’t let down Heather. Thankfully, the past brief position she’d held at a restaurant provided training she had conquered. Operating a register and serving coffee were skills she wouldn’t have to fake.

  Unfortunately, working at the bakery would come with one hitch. Travis. Jessie sighed. The mere presence of the man caused her pulse to flutter a rapid beat. Acting on enthusiasm and impulse, she’d hugged her new employer. She had never experienced such an intense reaction to a man. An electric charge flooded her body from head to toe. She didn’t want to remove her arms from his broad shoulders. No! Her boss was off-limits. A forbidden attraction. She mustn’t falter. She needed this job.

  With one last look in the mirror to check her minimal make-up, she grabbed her purse and car keys from the dresser. She took the elevator to the first floor and met her landlord in the front entry. ‘Good morning, Mr Moretti.’

  He waved a hand. ‘Good morning.’ Winking, he continued to water the plants.

  The front entry resembled a garden getaway, bursting with thick, luxuriant growth of indoor plants and flowers. Several of the tenants spent as much time in this green-space as they did their own apartments. The earthy decor consisted of a chocolate brown, faux suede loveseat, two matching armchairs, and a large maple coffee table. In the six months of residing in the twenty-four-unit building, Jessie had enjoyed many an evening coffee in the indoor jungle where Mr Moretti taught her the importance of plants.

  ‘House plants have been proven to clean and purify the air,’ he’d said. ‘Keeps the mind fresh and healthy.’

  Secretly calling him the house plant whisperer, she also learned the identity of each leafy stem. Two spider plants hung on the wall behind the loveseat and two ferns on the opposite wall. A jellybean plant, which unfortunately did not grow actual jelly beans, sat on the coffee table. Planters of orchids and African violets were scattered about the room, and a small tree resembling a Jap
anese maple sat in a large container by the main window.

  ‘Where are you off to at this early hour?’ His brow rose. ‘Is the lady sneaking out before the lad awakes?’

  Warmth caressed her cheeks. Doubling her age of thirty-one, the Italian gentleman carried himself with confidence and refinement. Lightly tanned skin and greying hair made him even more distinguished. He claimed men were like a fine wine and only got better as they aged.

  ‘I’m headed to work.’ She couldn’t hide the excitement in her tone.

  Mr Moretti stepped from behind the flowering maple, setting the watering jug on the floor. ‘Magnifico. Congratulations.’ He quirked one brow. ‘You like this job?’

  His polite question was probably due to her previous failed attempts at employment. ‘I believe I found the right one. I’m the new front counter clerk at a bakery.’ She omitted the details on how she acquired the position. ‘One manager is super scary, but I like her a lot. The owner, Mr Cooper, is nice.’

  ‘Nice?’ He chuckled then pulled a cloth out of his pocket. He stood on a step stool to wipe the spider plant stems. ‘Well, you’d better get going.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘You have a lovely day.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Moretti.’ Smiling, she pushed open the security door. ‘I’ll have the rent next week. I promise.’

  ‘I don’t doubt you for a moment, my dear.’ He winked. ‘And remember to call me Angelo.’

  If only Jessie’s parents had as much faith in her as Mr Moretti and Heather, she wouldn’t have left home. She shook her head. Reliving those memories only caused heartbreak. Ten minutes later, she arrived at the bakery.

  Heather greeted her at the door. A black apron wrapped her waist and a twinned kerchief prevented her hair from slipping free. ‘Good morning, pretty lady. You’re an early bird this morning.’

  Jessie checked the clock on the wall. Seven-thirty. ‘I wasn’t sure how much traffic I’d run into.’