Love on the Sweet Side Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Love on the Sweet Side

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Epilogue

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  “Colton Denning, get out from behind

  my counter this minute,” Maggie admonished and smacked him on the shoulder.

  Ouch. The tiny woman packed quite a wallop.

  He put Jamie down and turned. “Oh come on now, Magpie. I was just caught up in the excitement of the news.”

  “Yeah well, catch up on that side of the counter. You’re going to violate my health codes.”

  He looked down at himself—dusty, faded jeans that may have been worn one season too long, a relatively clean, long sleeve flannel over a black T-shirt, and cowboy boots caked in dried mud. Okay, she might have a point. Not that he would ever tell her that. One thing Maggie did not need to hear was that she was right, again.

  Besides, it was much more fun to tease her.

  “I’m not that dirty.”

  She rolled those pretty green eyes of hers. “You’ve got hay stuck in your jeans.”

  A quick glance revealed a short stalk stuck in the waistband of his wranglers. Not surprising. Working on a horse ranch, you were bound to get a stray piece of hay here and there.

  “Why, Magpie, were you eying my unmentionables?”

  She snorted, a very unladylike snort, but adorable as hell.

  “Oh please. You probably put it there on purpose to draw attention to your unmentionables. You’re a shameless flirt, Colton Denning, and you know it.”

  “What’s wrong with a little harmless flirting? Especially when it’s with such a pretty lady.”

  Love on

  the Sweet Side

  by

  Mariah Ankenman

  The Peak Town, Colorado Series

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Love on the Sweet Side

  COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Mariah Ankenman

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Kristian Norris

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Yellow Rose Edition, 2016

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-0768-8

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0769-5

  The Peak Town, Colorado Series

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To Mort and Bonnie,

  who showed me what true love really is;

  and to my Prince Charming,

  who keeps me believing

  that dreams really do come true.

  Chapter One

  Someone is going to die!

  Maggie Evans gripped the black, cordless phone tight in her hand, knuckles white, temper red-hot. Someone had screwed up, again. When she found out who that someone was, she was going to kill them.

  Dulcet tones filled her ear, but the melodic hold music did nothing to calm her simmering rage. They should use speed metal when placing people on hold. If the tune matched the mood then maybe the customers wouldn’t get so pissed off at the blatant attempt to soothe them.

  Nothing about this situation was soothing.

  “Pansy’s Wholesalers. How can I help you?”

  Finally! It had only taken them twenty minutes to get to her. She glanced at the clock in an attempt to suppress her growl. “Yes, I’m calling about my recent order of mascarpone.”

  “What seems to be the problem?” the cheery, high-pitched voice on the other end of the phone asked.

  “It hasn’t arrived. It was supposed to be delivered this morning at six a.m., and it’s still not here.” And it was well past three in the afternoon.

  Normally, she was a very easy-going person. Mistakes happened, trucks got delayed, she understood that, but this was the fourth screw up from this company in the last six months. That wasn’t happenstance; that was shoddy business.

  “Oh dear, let me check on that for you, ma’am. Do you have your order number?”

  She rattled off the eight-digit number from the receipt printed when she had placed the order and could hear the woman on the other end of the phone tapping away on a keyboard.

  Trying to rein in her frustration, she took a deep breath. She’d get this straightened out. Everything would be fine. Her mascarpone cheese would get delivered. She would make her famous tiramisu cupcakes. The blogger would give her a good review, and everything would be just fine…

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Evans, but it appears the order was cancelled.”

  …or not.

  “What do you mean the order was cancelled?”

  “It says right here that someone from your bakery called yesterday and cancelled the order.”

  Impossible. “Who called?”

  “We don’t have a record of that, ma’am.”

  She was getting really tired of this “ma’am” business. “Look, the only person who does the ordering or the cancelling around here is me. I’m the owner, operator, baker, and pretty much everything.”

  The only other person who worked at the bakery was her part-time help, Jamie Thompson. The young girl mostly worked the counter and certainly never handled any type of ordering or cancelling.

  “You must have made a mistake.”

  The woman’s high-pitched voice dropped an octave, cheeriness replaced with defensive disdain. “There’s no mistake, Ms. Evans. Our records indicate a call came in yesterday from your establishment requesting the order be cancelled.”

  “Did they have my order number?”

  “I did not take the call, but they must have if they cancelled the order.”

  “Well, if you didn’t take the call, how can you be sure they had my number?”

  The woman blew out a huff of indignation.

  Join the club, lady. She was pretty pissed herself.

  “We don’t cancel orders without processing numbers.”

  Right, just like they didn’t switch a delivery time from five in the morning to five at night. Or mistake an order o
f flour for an order of cayenne pepper. She ran a cupcake shop. What the hell would she need fifty pounds of cayenne pepper for?

  “Look, I need that mascarpone.”

  “Then I suppose you shouldn’t have cancelled the order.”

  Evidently, the woman wasn’t gunning for customer service agent of the year.

  “I told you, I didn’t cancel it!” Maggie gripped the phone harder, wishing it was possible to reach through the lines and strangle someone.

  “Well, someone from your establishment did, that’s all I can tell you. Is there anything else I can help you with today?” the agent asked politely, but it sounded like she shared her strangle-through-the-phone-line sentiment.

  Letting out a sigh of resignation, Maggie glanced at the calendar on her office desk. “How soon can I get a new delivery of mascarpone?”

  “One moment please.”

  If the lady put her on hold again, she was going to go Sweeney Todd on her ass and start making cupcakes with a secret ingredient: customer service representatives.

  “June twentieth is the next delivery date available.”

  “But that’s over four weeks away!”

  And the blogger would be at her shop in just two.

  “Well, ma’am, the brand you ordered comes from Italy, and the company only produces a finite amount of specialty cheeses.”

  She knew that. It was why she had specifically ordered the mascarpone from that company. They produced the best mascarpone in all of Italy, probably the world. She needed the best so her cupcakes would be the best. A chef was only as good as his or her ingredients. How many times had that been drilled into her at culinary school?

  “Your order has already been shipped back to Italy, and their next batch does not arrive in the states for another month.”

  Yup, someone’s going to die. Unfortunately, it looked like it was going to be her dreams of the perfect tiramisu cupcake.

  “Would you like me to place the order?”

  “No.” What she’d like was for something to go right for a change. “I’ll just have to prepare something else.”

  “Thank you for choosing Pansy’s Wholesalers for all your wholesale needs. Have a great day.”

  The customer service agent ended the call with what, Maggie assumed, was the company sign-off. “Have a great day?” Not likely after that conversation.

  Four screw-ups in six months, that was just too much. She needed to find a new distributor for her ingredients. After this recent brush with the company, she’d had enough. Customer service was something she prided herself on, and she expected it from other businesses, as well. Pansy’s left a lot to be desired in that department. She had filed a complaint after the last two mishaps, and she would file another one after this. What was the saying—three strikes and you’re out? Well, four balls and she walked.

  Right to another distributor.

  Now, she just had to figure out what to make for the blogger. She had been banking on her tiramisu cupcakes. They were divine and decadent. At least that’s what the reviewer from the LA Times had said when he visited the restaurant she’d worked at in Los Angeles.

  But she wasn’t in LA anymore. She was in Peak Town, Colorado. About as far from the glitz and glamour of LA as one could get. A place where people didn’t lock their doors. Where the sidewalks rolled up after ten p.m. A town where no one had even heard of mascarpone, let alone carried it at the grocery store.

  Things were what they were, and she couldn’t change them. She just had to pull it together and come up with another recipe to knock the blogger’s socks off.

  In two weeks.

  Maybe her grandmother had a fantastic recipe. Gran had started the cupcake shop after all.

  The bell above the front door chimed as someone entered.

  “Hey, boss. Where are ya?”

  Maggie smiled at the informal call of her eighteen-year-old part-time worker.

  “In my office.”

  Her office was really just the back corner of the shop, separated from the kitchen and front area by a thin piece of plywood to afford some semblance of privacy. A small desk was pushed against the wall and a large filing cabinet filled with paperwork and recipes was wedged into the corner. Not much, but it was all hers.

  “I’ve got news.” Jamie’s voice bubbled with excitement.

  The young girl rounded the corner, ponytail bouncing and brown eyes filled with glee. Her exuberance could only mean one thing.

  “I got in!” She held up a large, white envelope with the Harvard seal stamped in the top left corner.

  Springing up from her small office chair, Maggie grabbed Jamie’s arms, jumping up and down in excitement with her young employee who had worked so hard to get into her dream college. “That’s amazing.” She gripped the girl in a tight embrace. Pulling back, she gave her arms another squeeze. “Do your folks know?”

  Jamie rolled her eyes. “Dad’s down at the bar buying everyone drinks, and Mom’s calling everyone she’s ever met to tell them.”

  “They’re proud of you. It’s quite an accomplishment to get into an Ivy League school. I’m proud of you, too.”

  Youthful cheeks blushed. “Thanks. It’s not really that big a deal.”

  “Oh yes it is. In fact, I’m giving you the afternoon off. Go celebrate.”

  “Are you sure? I thought you had an order coming in today.”

  A groaned escaped. “Ugh, I will not damper your delightful news with tales of the dumb ass distributor.”

  “Oh no, did they screw up another order?”

  Jamie had started working for her two weeks after she took over the shop and knew all about the problems with orders over the past few months. Now, she was headed to Harvard. Well, technically not until the fall. Maggie was so proud and happy for her, but it meant losing her only employee in a few months.

  Cancelled orders, her only employee leaving, and absolutely no idea what to make for the blogger, she was beginning to think this day couldn’t get any worse.

  The bell over the door chimed again.

  “Hello? Magpie, you in?” a deep, sexy, familiar voice called from the front of the shop.

  Oh crap. She’d spoke too soon.

  Colton Denning stepped into Cupcakes Above the Clouds and inhaled the sugary sweet smell wafting from the rows and rows of cupcakes displayed behind the glass counter. The shop had been a Peak Town cornerstone for over thirty years. He remembered coming here after school with his brother, Dade. The owner, Mrs. Browning, would always give him and his brother a Devil Chocolate cupcake with rainbow sprinkles for helping her take out the garbage. Nothing was sweeter than Mrs. B’s cupcakes.

  “Be right there, Colt.”

  Except for the new owner, Mrs. B’s granddaughter, Maggie Evans.

  He leaned against the counter, waiting for her to come up front. The shop wasn’t all that big, so it only took a moment.

  Long, dark brown hair held back in a tight French braid, mossy green eyes, and a bright smile on her beautiful face, Maggie Evans stepped out from the back and headed toward him. He watched the slight sway of her hips, remembering a time, years ago, when she had been all skin and bones. The years had certainly been kind to her. And though they were friends—best of at one time—he wasn’t above noticing what a sexy woman she had become. What man with a pulse wouldn’t notice?

  Her worker followed close behind, a bounce in her step and wide grin on her young face.

  “Hey, Jamie. You working today?”

  “Nope.” The teenager smiled. “Maggie gave me the afternoon off because I got some great news.”

  He had a suspicion of what it could be, but she was so excited he wanted to let her share. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, sugar.”

  “I got in!” Joyful glee radiated off her youthful face as she waved a white envelope in the air.

  He whooped out a yell, jumped over the counter, and grabbed her up in a bear hug. Everyone in town knew the ambitious girl had been hoping to get into
Harvard. She was smart as a whip, so he wasn’t surprised she’d made it. Still, it was a great accomplishment—the first person from Peak Town to go to an Ivy League school.

  “Congratulations, sweetheart!”

  “Colton Denning, get out from behind my counter this minute,” Maggie admonished and smacked him on the shoulder.

  Ouch. The tiny woman packed quite a wallop.

  He put Jamie down and turned. “Oh come on now, Magpie. I was just caught up in the excitement of the news.”

  “Yeah well, catch up on that side of the counter. You’re going to violate my health codes.”

  He looked down at himself—dusty, faded jeans that may have been worn one season too long, a relatively clean, long sleeve flannel over a black T-shirt, and cowboy boots caked in dried mud. Okay, she might have a point. Not that he would ever tell her that. One thing Maggie did not need to hear was that she was right, again.

  Besides, it was much more fun to tease her.

  “I’m not that dirty.”

  She rolled those pretty green eyes of hers. “You’ve got hay stuck in your jeans.”

  A quick glance revealed a short stalk stuck in the waistband of his wranglers. Not surprising. Working on a horse ranch, you were bound to get a stray piece of hay here and there.

  “Why, Magpie, were you eying my unmentionables?”

  She snorted, a very unladylike snort, but adorable as hell.

  “Oh please. You probably put it there on purpose to draw attention to your unmentionables. You’re a shameless flirt, Colton Denning, and you know it.”

  No denying the truth.

  “What’s wrong with a little harmless flirting? Especially when it’s with such a pretty lady.”