Free Second Chance at the Sugar Shack by Candis Terry

her neck and her grip on the pastry bag tightened. A big spurt of pale pink icing globbed onto the cupcake, ruining it for consumption other than the mouth of the trash can.
    She did battle with a knot of fire in the pit of her stomach as she tried to dream up a way to help her father and attend, at least, her top three clients at the same time. Out of those three clients, two were her most difficult. It was too much for her to expect Josh to be able to handle all of them in her absence. But she was a pro. And it did make more sense that she be the one to stay and help. Her job wasn’t expendable but it certainly was easier to maneuver than having to be in a courtroom every day. Or flying across the country from game to game. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t juggle things. Heck, she was the queen at multitasking. Last year hadn’t she handled a movie star’s fantasy wedding, a red carpet arrival, and a charity fashion show all in one day? Easy cheesy.
    Right. And Valentino gowns grew on trees.
    Amid her misery the bell over the bakery door chimed. She glanced up as the door opened. A gust of air blew in, bringing with it the scent of rain on the sidewalk, autumn leaves, and Matt Ryan. Her nerves unraveled with an unexpected tingle.
    In a wide stance, he paused before her mother’s lace-draped window and swept his gaze across the shop. When that gaze landed on her, his broad shoulders stiffened beneath the khaki uniform. The star pinned to his chest pocket lifted on a sharp intake of air. Slowly he removed his aviators from the bridge of his straight nose and that icy blue glare burned a hole right through her core.
    Great.
    Now all she needed was mean old Edna Price and her moose-head walking stick to show up.
    Before the thought filtered from her head, the bell above the door jingled again. Kate cringed at the sight of the gray-headed woman as she hobbled through the door.

C HAPTER F IVE
    M att stepped from the autumn chill into the sweet, warm smells of the busy bakery. He gave a nod to Robert Silverthorne, who was placing flaky triangles of baklava into a pastry box for one of Deer Lick’s most notorious man-eaters.
    “Hey there, Matt,” Robert said with a wave. “My helper’ll be happy to take your order.”
    Helper?
    Matt swept his gaze to the lunch counter and the redhead standing behind it.
    The very last thing he expected when he stopped in for his customary tuna sandwich was to see her behind the counter frosting cupcakes. Like she belonged there.
    She lifted her gaze and their eyes met. A flash of irritation seared him from behind those green depths. When the color returned to her pale cheeks, she tilted her head and her sleek auburn ponytail dusted the top of her shoulder. He could almost read her mind. Or at least the curse words bouncing around on her tongue.
    Happy to take his order?
    He didn’t think so.
    Last night he would have bet money she’d have been on the first plane out today. He didn’t imagine the icy reception she’d received had been pleasant or comfortable for her. But she deserved nothing less.
    Behind him the bell over the door jingled and Katie’s lips pursed like she’d tasted something bitter.
    “Afternoon, Matthew.”
    He turned toward the gravelly voice. “How are you today, Mrs. Price?”
    “Oh, just fine and dandy. Course, my old bones aren’t liking this cold weather none.” She lifted her walking stick and gave it a wave. “You keeping your tradition of coming in for lunch?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Matt held back a smile at the pinched expression surrounding her rheumy hazel eyes. He figured she suspected he’d come in for a different reason—a shapely reason that stood behind the counter in snug jeans and a figure-hugging sweater. “I’m hoping Letty’s special recipes will still taste just as good as if she’d made them herself,” he said, reassuring her he had no other motivation.
    “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest thing.” Mrs. Price reached up and