The Baker's Husband
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Jeannie Sharpe
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46
1: Chapter 1
CHLOE
Chloe Livingston flipped on the TV to watch the local news. It had been a long day’s work at Camden Bakery, and she was settling in for the evening.
What?
The news anchor reported that several businesses in the uptown district of Camden, Maine, had been broken into.
She turned up the volume. Camden Bakery was included in the list of ten stores infringed upon.
Why didn’t the police call me?
A video clip featured her bakery, and as she watched, fear and anger started to mount within her. She sat on the edge of the sofa.
A tremble shot down her arm as she dialed the local police.
“Hello, I’m the owner of Camden Bakery. I just found out that my bakery was broken into.”
“Your name?”
“Chloe Livingston.”
“Please hold.”
Chloe fisted her hands as panic reared its ugly head. I don’t need this.
“Hello, Ms. Livingston, this is Officer Slidell. I have information concerning your bakery. Two teenagers broke into your shop. An officer is on the scene now. There does seem to be a bit of vandalism inside the bakery, though.”
“Oh, God, no.”
“That’s where we found the boys. We have them in our custody.”
“What? You caught them inside my bakery?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Why didn’t anyone call me?” Chloe started to move around the house, grabbing her keys and sliding her shoes on.
“The boys also damaged your back door pretty extensively.”
“Why did you ignore my question?”
“What question was that, miss?”
“Why didn’t anyone call me to let me know my bakery was broken into?”
“Uh, I’m sorry.”
“I’ll head down there now.”
“Officer Meskins will meet you.”
Blue lights from the cop car brightened the night when she arrived at the front of her bakery. She dashed to the bakery’s door and approached a man in a blue police uniform.
“Hello, I’m Chloe Livingston.”
“Good evening. I’m Officer Meskins. I’ll walk into the building with you while you check everything.”
Just as they were about to enter the building, a man came up behind them. “Officer Meskins?”
“Good evening, Detective.”
“I was passing by and saw the commotion. What happened?”
“This lady’s bakery and nine other businesses were broken into this evening.”
Chloe stood still, staring at the gorgeous man before her. His beautiful skin and his stunning features took her breath away.
He’s beautiful.
“Hello, I’m Mitchell Terrison,” he politely introduced himself.
Chloe nodded her head. “It’s nice to meet you.” She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
The police officer led the way inside. “Do you always leave your cash register empty at night?”
“Yes, sir. We make sure we drop a bank deposit each night.”
“That’s good to know,” Officer Meskins replied.
Cups, napkins, and the like were scattered on the floor, and tables and chairs were turned over. “I’m glad this is all they did,” Chloe said as she started picking stuff off the floor.
“The door to your offices was tampered with, but the teens were not successful in breaking into them. That’s where we caught them.”
“Does your alarm system notify the police when there is a break-in?” Detective Terrison asked.
“It should have notified them—and me. I don’t think it’s working.”
“I see.” He gazed at her.
“Let me show you your back door.” Officer Meskins gestured for her to follow him. “I’m going to check out the other businesses. Have a nice evening.”
And just like that, the gorgeous man disappeared. She had no choice but to follow the officer to the back of the bakery.
Will I ever see him again?
***
Not a soul was in sight as she turned onto Taylor Street the next morning on her way to the bakery. Midway through the next block, the car sputtered, backfired, and smoke clouded the air.
What? Her heart thumped against her ribs. She whipped the car off the road.
Harsh smells of smoldering fumes and leaking radiator fluid began to assault her nostrils as she scrambled from the vehicle. Pulse pounding, she staggered and righted herself on the sidewalk.
Her pink-and-white polka-dotted gloved hands covered her mouth. She jumped back as the car ignited.
Shock trembled on her lower lip. My purse! She hurried and snatched it off the passenger seat.
“Get back!” a man shouted as he rushed by with a fire extinguisher.
Uneasiness clutched her stomach as he reached over the car door and popped the hood. The courageous soul dodged the inferno, grabbed the hood prop, and secured it.
With a sweeping motion, the engine was soaked with foam, and the fire was extinguished. Chloe’s eyes met his as he approached.
“It’s you. You’re the detective who came into my bakery last night.”
The tall, muscular man wiped smears of foam from his black suit. “Oh yeah, that’s right. Are you okay?”
Her voice cracked. “Yes. I’m all right.”
He slid a glance over her as he rubbed the arm of his suit coat. “My sleeve’s pretty wet.” He pulled off his jacket and hung it over his arm.
She watched as he pressed the fire extinguisher against his other arm. His muscular bicep tightened against the sleeve of his dress shirt.
That’s impressive.
“Did you get burned?” she asked.
He flipped his hands over and inspected them. “Nope. No burns.”
“Thank God.” Her feet felt glued to the pavement. She watched him walk to the glass door of the four-story office building behind them.
“Hope the rest of your week gets better,” he said as he turned to go.
She glanced at the words Knox County Judicial Center engraved in stone above the door before she hightailed it inside, catching up to him.
“Excuse me,” she said as she tugged on his jacket.
He turned around in the middle of the atrium. “Yes?” His lips curved.
Puzzled, she tilted her head. “How did you know? I mean…my car.”
“I saw you from my office window.”
Her jaw dropped as she gazed at his hazel eyes.
“Were you going to say something?” His brow raised.
She drew in a deep breath. “I’m sure my car would’ve burned up if you hadn’t acted so fast. You saved it.”
“No problem.” He straightened.
Her heart palpitated. Think of something.
“How long have you been in town?”
“Only a couple of months now. I’m Knox County’s newest detective.”
“I cannot remember if I introduced myself last night, but I’m Chloe Livingston.”
“Your bakery has the best brownies in town.”
She warmed. “I’ve been told. Listen…Mitchell. Can I call you Mitchell?”
“Sure.”
A glance at her torso, all the way to her feet. She wasn’t dressed to impress, with a white shirt tucked into her old, faded jeans.
The best feature of the outfit was a leather embroidered belt her mother had purchased in Belgium.
Why, of all days, had she chosen her most worn-out shoes? And these gloves, which she thought were fun, but he probably found ridiculous.
Ugh. She scrunched her hair. “So, um, I need to be going.”
“Oh, right.” Mitchell pressed his hands together.
“Maybe I could repay you with, uh—brownies? You know, for coming to my rescue.”
“Brownies?”
“Please. It’s the least I can do.”
She glanced down; there was a message pad at a receptionist’s desk beside them.
“May I?” she asked.
He shrugged.
With seven digits jotted on the pad, she slipped it into his hand. “Here’s my number.”
He stuffed it in his shirt pocket. “Nice gloves.”
“Thank you.” Her head tilted as a smile crossed her lips.
“Can I call you a tow truck?”
A quick turn, and she spotted her car. “No. It’s okay. I think it’s far enough off the road. I’ll get in touch with someone when I get to the bakery.”
He walked to the elevator. “I’ll see you later, then?”
The elevator doors slid closed.
Again, the flawless man disappeared.
