CHAPTER ONE

Tequila and Cupcakes

- not yet edited -

Boxes here. Boxes there. Cardboard boxes everywhere.

The shop was an overwhelming sea of baking dishes, decor pieces, and crumbled up sheets of packing paper. Tori was thankful to have the help of her best friend and business partner. It was Chantal's idea to rent property in the city, and Tori agreed, the growing frustration with working out of her brother's garage causing endless migraines. It wasn't easy running a dessert business out of a cluttered, one-car garage. Running any business in New York City wasn't easy in general. When Chantal pitched the idea of moving, it all seemed exhilarating. Now that her legs were covered in bruises, and her watch said it was a quarter past midnight, the excitement in Tori's chest had flopped. It showed in her dark circles and messy top-knot.

"Is it time yet to call it a night?" That was Chantal, kneeling over a box of utensils. In contrast to Tori's exhausted posture and sweaty face, her friend looked as if she didn't belong in this dark and drab room of clutter. Instead, Chantal looked like she came from brunch at L'Assiette. Her hair was pinned up into a fashion that Tori knew must have took Chantal a whole fifteen seconds to accomplish, but looked as if it was done in front of a mirror for hours. Her pale skirt was wrinkle free, even as she folded her legs on the dusty floor.

"This place opens in T-minus nine hours," Tori was cutting through tape on a box. By the size of it, she guessed it was the box that held the trendy new vase she ordered specially for the shop. "We are working through the morning if we have to. You got me?" she pointed a finger at her friend and shot Chantal a look that said DON'T-TRY-ME. 

The finishing touches were coming together quickly. The furniture was in place, and the counters behind the register were decorated. The boxes cluttering the floor were the baking dishes and tools from Lucas' garage.

Chantal dropped a handful of utensils in a pile beside her. "Can't you call your brother for some help?" With one look over at Tori, Chantal could guess the answer. She continued sorting through the box until its contents were scattered around her. "We've spent all month getting this shop ready for its opening. Can we take a break and have a little bit of fun?" she huffed, making a motion with her arms toward the window.

Outside, the world was alive. Tori looked out at the street, girls in party dresses and heels strutted the sidewalk with older-looking men. Taxis and buses were buzzing in place, horns being honked in the distance. Behind them, she noticed that the shops were still open, their lights mixing with the glow of the headlights. The door to the coffee shop across the street opened, the girls in their dresses disappearing behind it.

"You can leave if you don't want to help. I guess I'll finish up the rest of the boxes and you can come in early tomorrow." Tori unwrapped a vase and placed it on a table-for-two that was dressed with a menu and napkins.

Chantal unfolded herself from the floor and stood up. "Come with me and have a drink. You've been too uptight this week and you need to relax. I saw a bar down the street." she pointed a painted fingernail in the direction behind Tori.

She guessed that's where the girls had come from. Tori thought of the potential market that the party scene could bring to her business. She hadn't been drunk but once in her life, and wondered if anyone else in the city would crave chocolate chip walnut cookies, or a double fudge cookie ice cream sandwich. The possibilities could be endless. Maybe soon she would add a hangover special to the menu for the groups walking home from the bars at night. 

"If you don't come with me, I'll drag you there myself." Chantal crossed her arms over her chest, signaling to Tori that she meant business.

Tori looked down at herself now, taking in the too-loose T-shirt and jeans that were folded twice above the ankle. If Tori believed in labels, she'd say that she looked like a total hipster at the moment; complete with white converse and yesterday's eyeliner clumping around her lashes. "You're kidding, right?" the serious tone in her voice was opposite of the excitement on her friend's face. 

Chantal excused the comment with a wave. "You look fine. Like a cute, fashionable, stay-at-home mom." she smiled, and rushed toward her friend, her hands pulling at the band around Tori's hair. "Let me fix your rat's nest for just a second." Chantal snapped away Tori's hands and shook the waves of blonde from the too-tight knot. 

"Perfect bar attire." she joked when her friend was finished.

Chantal was moving at a sprint toward the end of the street. Tori lagged behind, picking at the stains on her striped t-shirt. 

She had to remind herself that it was midnight. It was an odd sight to see so many bodies bustling along the sidewalks at a time like this. The traffic wasn't nearly as cluttered as it had been this afternoon when Tori had seen it, but still, New York traffic may never be completely normal.

She didn't understand the hustle of the city - the reason why everyone was moving a mile a minute to the next thing. A man passed her at a jog, his hands pulling the collar of his jacket over his lips as if the air was toxic. It was a contrast to the congestion she had experienced that morning. She had probably been shoved and screeched at a total of fifty times on her way to the shop. She had never experienced such bluntness in her life. Maybe it was the southern kindness in her heart, but Tori didn't think she could get accustomed to New York City so easily. 

Looking down the street, Chantal was already at the nightclub's door and waving at Tori to hurry. When she caught up, Chantal's excitement had turned into a collected act. She raised her chin, and talked slowly to the man guarding the door. Her voice was smooth and feminine. The man's eyes were on her lips as she smiled. Of course, Chantal didn't need to say much. She had that girl-next-door vibe that men lusted after. Within seconds, the door was open and she was running through it. 

Tori followed and was hit by the scent of sweat and hot air. The room was packed with moving bodies and loud music. She let Chantal lead her through the chaos toward the bar, and Chantal did all the talking. 

"Two martinis please," Chantal shouted over the beat of the music.

Tori sat at an open stool, checking her cell phone for notifications. The time said it was 12:32, and nobody was on Facebook. Bummer. 

Chantal sauntered over to Tori with the drinks and handed one over. "You're going to sit here all night, aren't you?" Her voice was expecting, almost like the tone Tori's mother used to give when she accidentally added too much vanilla to the bake sale's cupcakes. She was a predictable person. That was a talent she's had since childhood. Same ol' Tori. Sticking to her daily routine like a recipe. Not a tablespoon of vanilla out of whack. 

"I'll sit here until you drag me somewhere else." Tori flashed a smile at her friend, her teeth together in a child-like pose.

The DJ switched the song to something a little more techno with a synthesizing rhythm. The crowd on the dance floor went crazy, and Chantal hummed with excitement. "I'm going to give you five minutes. If you don't start having fun by the end of this song, I'm going to drag you on the floor for the next one." Chantal sipped her drink and looked past Tori with a wide smile. 

"What are you doing?" Tori asked, turning her body to find what Chantal found to be so interesting. Her eyes grazed over the heads of people she didn't recognize.

"Looks like you're about to get some company." Chantal placed her drink on the counter and adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder. "I'll be back in five," she said. "Don't drink anything he gives you." 

Chantal disappeared into the throng of party-goers, and Tori was left alone wondering what she meant.

It wasn't long, and the seat beside Tori was taken by a man in a dark jacket. He looked young, maybe not the right age to be in a hub like this. He ordered a Jameson on the rocks and smiled when he caught Tori staring. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked, looking her up and down. "Husband out of town? Kids at a sleepover?" His eyes focused on her face. Tori couldn't tell what he was thinking or whether he was judging her as she was judging him.

Tori may look like a mom, but this man could be the next Christian Grey. She hadn't read the books, but she saw the first movie and admired the hunky actor as much as everyone else in the theater. The man beside her had a strong build; the sleeves of his jacket lining a set of thick arms. Still, his shape was lean, and Tori could tell by his long legs that he was tall.

His face didn't give off a lot of expression, making it difficult for Tori to read his behavior. "Oh, wait, you must be someone's wing woman." he continued, and looked around the bar as he sipped his drink, his face all angles in the colored lights. "Who is your friend?" His eyes moved past Tori and to the dance floor where Chantal had her arms hooked around a stranger's neck. "Never mind, I'm not interested anyway." 

Tori couldn't be sure if the man was joking. He looked to have a sense of humor about him, like he was fun company with the right people, but tonight he just looked nervous. Maybe this was all a part of his game: picking the least composed woman in the bar, making her feel inferior, and then sweeping her off her feet with some grand gesture.

"Actually," she started. "My friend dragged me here for her own enjoyment." Tori pointed a finger at the dance floor to Chantal, her hands in the air and swinging like a Britney Spears backup dancer. "I thought that I'd humor her tonight."

"What's with the ensemble, then? Seriously, you look like a kindergarten teacher." he laughed, giving off a radiant smile. He seemed pleased with himself, as if his comment was original.

This made her laugh. "Well, I wasn't exactly in a place to get dressed up. This was a kind of spur-the-moment thing." She took a sip of the martini, her lipgloss leaving a smudge on the glass.

The man nodded, and ordered another drink. She took the split moment while he wasn't looking to size him up further. His hair was well-trimmed, but looked disheveled, like he'd been running this hands through it all night. His face was boy-like, but striking all the same. His brows were thick, and his eyes charming. He was beyond good-looking. It made her wonder why he chose the seat beside her in the first place, and why he bothered to talk to her at all. She wondered if he'd been talking to other girls. Surely, any woman would have taken him home for the night if he had. 

She pushed back a strand of golden hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in her own skin.

"What's your name?" he asked when his drink was filled.

Another look at her phone. 12:40. The song had changed again, and Chantal was still on the dance floor. "Tori."

"Caiden Murphy." 

"Interesting name," Tori mumbled, taking another sip of her drink. The conversation had slowed, and she wished that Chantal would come back to the bar. She would know what to say in this situation. 

"Are you from here?" Caiden mumbled from his glass. 

"Sort of." She decided to play it safe. She was new to a big city, and probably looked very out of place. This was a perfect imitation of those reenactments on shows like Forensic Files or Criminal Minds. A red flag went up in the back of her mind.

He caught on to the now awkward silence, only the beat of the music filling the air between them. "I'm sorry," he said, a worried expression stretched across his face. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It's just small talk, ya know?" He finished another drink. His fingers loosened on the glass. "It's also my job to find interesting people."

"Interesting people? What's so interesting about me?" She caught the excitement in her voice and quickly squashed it, not wanting to seem too interested. So, she lowered her voice and took another drink of her martini. "What kind of people are you looking for in a bar?"

"I don't know yet," Caiden focused his eyes on her, his brows coming together in a squint. "Have you ever thought about being on TV?" 

She let out a guttural laugh. "Me? Television? Didn't you just insult me by saying I looked like an exhausted stay-at-home-mom?" The look on Caiden's face didn't change, which told Tori that he was serious. "What do you do for work anyway?"

Caiden glanced over his shoulder and stole a look past Tori, as if he was checking his surroundings for a wild tiger or an equally threatening presence. "I'm a producer for BakeOff." He whispered. "I'm looking for people to star in the show." His fingers tapped on the edge of his glass. His words gave Tori goosebumps. She leaned closer to Caiden, his breath tickling her cheek. "Right now I'm looking for a couple of amateurs that will give the audience some laughs." He smiled.

If Tori could see herself in a mirror, she would see the color draining from her face. Was this even real life? She had only been in New York City for eight months, and here she is: running into a strikingly good-looking man that happens to be a producer for one of her favorite baking competitions, and could also be the incarnation of Christian Grey. 

If the booze in her stomach wasn't keeping her high-strung, Tori felt that she might faint. 

"I'm taking a break and ended up here." he continued. "There's a lot of new businesses on this street. This bar wasn't here a month ago, and there's even a new bakery down the street."

The nerves in her stomach zinged. Caiden noticed her bakery.

"Well, well." Chantal had sauntered up, her auburn hair sticking to her face and sweat blurring her eyeliner. This was a talent of Chantal's, popping up when she was needed. Tori had thanked her for it a million times. "I leave for five minutes and here you are."

Tori wanted to roll her eyes. More like twenty minutes.

Chantal gave her friend a wink, as if to play along. She held out a hand to Caiden and introduced herself. "Chantal Martins."

Caiden repeated his name and continued to work on his drink. Tori was used to seeing guys go ga-ga over Chantal. It was almost like magic how these men would fall into a trance when meeting her. Chantal had all the right looks: long cinnamon-colored hair, pouty lips, and smooth skin. He didn't seem impressed by the five-foot-ten woman standing in front of him, and she respected him for it. 

"You should stop by Tori's sweets shop on Monday. Grand opening!" Chantal spread her arms in a grand gesture, almost like she was throwing invisible confetti into the air. "Bring a friend and you get one free cupcake." She looked at him expectingly. 

He gave Tori a cunning smile, his lips curling like the Cheshire cat. "I thought we were friends, Tori? I didn't think you'd keep such a big secret from me. Honestly, I'm hurt." He said the last part a little too dramatically and clutched a fist to his heart. "I'm definitely interested in checking out the shop. What time are you opening?" 

Tori couldn't say anything as she listened to Chantal give directions to the shop and tell Caiden the operating hours. "Please bring friends! We're hoping to have a full house."

"I'd be delighted." Caiden inched off his seat and bowed his head to Tori. "It was nice talking to you, Teach. See you in class on Monday, alright?" He chuckled at himself and waved goodbye to Tori as he made his way through the crowd. 

"Strange guy," Chantal huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. 

"He was interesting." Tori looked over the club, her eyes searching for a head of brown hair. He must have left, because she couldn't spot him.

Chantal motioned her head toward the door, and Tori followed her long-legged strides out to the streets of New York City. "Do you know that guy? I mean before tonight." 

"I've just met him." She didn't want to break the news to Chantal, or even get her own hopes up. This guy could be a phony after all. The whole spiel about the television show could have been an act to pick up chicks at the bar.

Tori hopped in a way that they would see him again. Caiden was interesting, and she liked a bit of excitement. She also liked sleep, and Tori felt the exhaustion coming back and hitting her hard. Tomorrow would be the first day of a new beginning. Tori Lynn, a shop owner and professional pastry chef. It was all happening in the morning - well, technically it was morning. The time on her watch said 12:53. 

The traffic was less now, and the lights of various shops and business were turned off. In the distance, the sign of Miss Lynn's Sweets and Treats was high and glittered over the jet-black street.