“You need to consider opening new locations,” Brock returned and I blinked at him. “It’s a madhouse out there ‘cause this is the only place in Denver they can get your stuff so they descend en masse here. You open shops in LoDo, Park Meadows, considering additional foot traffic and convenience to locals, you’ll clean up.”

I had, of course, thought of this after I’d learned Brock was not Jake, we were apart for those three months and I was hell-bent on doing anything that might take my mind off being played but mostly losing him (an effort that, incidentally, failed). I’d even looked at locations for expanding, including one in LoDo or what lower downtown Denver was known as.

However, these activities clashed with my half-baked plans to sell my house and move to Kentucky so I didn’t fully investigate them. But also, I didn’t fully investigate them because already the success of my shop was cutting into the time I got to do the fun stuff. I had an accountant and outsourced payroll but that was it. All the hires, scheduling of personnel, ordering, inventory, my calendar and the rest of it I did. The idea of adding another shop to that load, or, worse, two, didn’t fill me with glee.

“I’m uncertain of my desire to be the Cake Guru of Denver. I like baking and decorating.

I’m not chomping at the bit to build and oversee a cake empire.”

He grinned then decided he was done with our distance, which, considering my office was tiny was only two feet so the distance wasn’t that distant but still, he obviously didn’t like it. I knew this because his arms uncrossed and one shot out, he grabbed my hand, tugged on it hard so I was forced to take a big step forward and I fell into his body. Then both his arms wrapped around me and I tilted my head back to look up at him as my arms slid around his waist. Then he gave me no time to make a comment or react to this change of physical circumstances, he casually continued the conversation like yanking me into his arms in the middle of one was a totally normal thing to do.

Which, I realized in that nanosecond, for Brock it was.

“So hire a business manager to oversee the shit you don’t wanna do at your different locations and spend your time baking and decorating,” he suggested.

This idea held merit but I still shook my head and explained, “Sometimes, when folks expand, things get out of hand. You lose quality. You lose personality. It starts to be about money, not about soul. I put a lot of work into what’s happening out there and my name is on these cakes.” I gave his waist a squeeze and said quietly, “To me, baby, this isn’t just cakes, it’s my vision, it’s me. And I need to control it.”

And it was my vision, it was me. I’d not that long ago finally discovered who I was and what was inside me and that didn’t only include a mountainous swirl of frosting under which was rich, moist cake. It also included robin’s egg blue and lavender and hibiscus blossoms and hummingbirds and smiling clerks and kids who walked in with looks on their faces like Rex and walked out with smiles on their faces like pretty much everybody.

“All right, darlin’,” Brock said softly and my focus went back to him. “You’d had a tough night so you might have missed it but over Mexican, your girl bitched… at length… about her job. She’s in a bad place, hates what she’s doin’ and she’s been lookin’ around now for months and findin’ nothin’. You told me your income quadrupled over Christmas and that isn’t slowing. Right now, you got the means to do this and you got someone you trust, someone who knows you and your vision and understands the importance of it to you. Talk to Martha, maybe she’ll be open to takin’ on a new gig. Even if you don’t expand, with how it is out there, you still could use someone doin’ what you do in here so you can get outta here and do what you prefer to do out there.”

Again, this idea held merit but this one held more. Like a lot more. Doable more.

“That’s a great idea, honey,” I whispered.

“It’s a selfish idea, baby,” he whispered back. “The more money you make, the more sexy nighties I get and if you get help, I’ll maybe see you sometimes when you’re not flat out exhausted and trying to hide it.”

See? Totally could not pull shit over on Brock.

“I’ll talk to her tonight,” I told him.

“Good,” he said on an arm squeeze.

“So,” I tipped my head to the side, “did you come here to advise me on the future of my bakery?”

He shook his head and answered, “Nope, gotta go to work. Mom’s got plans to go see a movie with friends. Laura’s got a gaggle of girls over because Ellie had a slumber party last night. Jill and Fritz are up in the mountains snowshoeing. I don’t think Dad’s up to it, Levi isn’t answering his phone and Kalie and Kellie are out there. ‘Cause of that, I need to ask you to look after the boys. If I can get hold of Levi, I’ll give you a call and send him ‘round to pick them up.”

It was then I noticed he wasn’t in a thermal and his leather jacket and faded jeans but in a navy blue turtleneck (again, one I bought him for Christmas), his nice jeans and his black overcoat.

Work attire.

“Someone get a cap busted in their ass?” I asked.

He grinned, shook his head in that way he did (that way I liked) when I knew he thought I was cute and answered, “Yeah, and that someone was done exactly the way another someone was done who hit my desk last week. I gotta get to the crime scene and I gotta look into that shit.”

Not fun.

“Okay,” I agreed readily and his arms gave me another squeeze.

“They’ll be cool,” he told me.

“I know they will,” I told him.

“If they can help out, put them to work,” he suggested.

“They just got KP duties,” I decided.

He smiled again. Then he dipped his head to touch his lips to mine.

The he lifted his head and murmured, “Thanks, baby.”

“Anytime, honey,” I murmured back but even at a murmur I meant it and he knew it.

Therefore, he smiled then that smile faded as a shadow drifted through his eyes telling me he wanted to spend a Saturday when he should be with his sons going to a crime scene and

“looking into that shit” about as much as he wanted to get a tooth pulled without Novocain then he muttered, “I gotta go.”