Free Baker’s Law by Denise McDonald

things had happened it would take the entire weekend and several
     bottles of wine to decompress and figure it all out. Then she groaned. She didn’t
     have all weekend. First thing the next morning she was due to meet her sister, then
     later that evening she’d promised to go with Cherry to the Blue Spur.
    To top it all off, her weekend had already started off with a whimper. She’d waited
     around the shop for an hour after close, thinking Jax might come back. He’d intimated
     as much as he’d walked out. She’d even gone through three batches of cupcakes trying
     to perfect the maple bacon she’d told him about earlier in the week.
    By nine o’clock, though, she’d decided to call it a night and left. Left a teenage
     boy to sleep in her office after he’d gathered his meager belongings from the bridge
     and returned to clean up the back as his part of the bargain. She’d even given him
     a spare key for the back door after she’d made a point to say that she’d be in by
     eight the next morning to get the shop ready for the day. She hadn’t meant it so much
     as a warning, just as a way to let him know business would go on as usual.
    If—when—if he remained, on school mornings he’d be leaving just as she would arrive.
     He could start out the morning unafraid, and she’d see to it that he wasn’t hungry.
     Then school would let out at four. She wasn’t going to give him a curfew per se. Anyone
     who slept under a bridge had enough responsibility—not to mention the much-desired
     shelter—to get in at a decent time. If he kept up his end of the bargain for a week,
     she’d give him a small paycheck. And then try to figure out her next step.
    Not that she had even the slightest idea of what that might be. Maybe she was crazy
     to even agree to it. Hell, he could wipe out her entire kitchen—which thankfully,
     was covered by insurance. Something in her gut, though, told her he’d hold up his
     end. He had determination in his eyes despite the slump of his shoulders. Really,
     he reminded her a lot of her dad.
    Thinking of her dad and the fiasco at the club years ago, she tried to call her sister
     so she could weasel out of her morning meeting. When she’d come in from work, there’d
     been a message on her machine telling her she needed to be there bright and early
     at seven. Every time she called, though, she’d just get Marlie’s voice mail. Marissa’d
     have no choice but to go up to the country club in the morning—which was probably
     why her sister wasn’t answering. It would be the first time she’d been back there
     since she and her father had picked up their last paychecks, minus the damage fee
     for the towels.
    A heavy knock at the door stopped her before she could travel very far down the self-pity
     lane. With her wine in hand, she opened the door. Jax was the absolute last person
     she’d expected to see standing on her welcome mat. “What are you… How did you…” When
     she finished stammering, she took a long sip of her wine. “Jax.”
    “Marissa.” A smile quirked up the corner of his mouth. He was out of uniform wearing
     a pair of jeans and a light blue T-shirt. His hair was wet on the ends as if he’d
     taken a shower before he came over. “May I come in?”
    Marissa moved aside from the door and motioned him in with her wine glass. After she
     shut the door, she downed the remainder of her wine. “Please, have a seat. Can I get
     you some wine?” She scooted around him and moved into her small kitchen.
    “Sure. Thanks.” Jax didn’t sit, only stood rooted in her living room.
    She eyed him over the half-wall that separated the two rooms as she got down another
     glass. Her home wasn’t tiny—the two-story, two-bedroom, one-bath townhome was old
     but in good shape, with the living room and kitchen taking up the whole bottom floor.
     But Jax’s tall, muscular frame shrunk the room almost in half.
    She turned her back to the opening, poured a