If The Cake Don't Rise: Construct Cakery

By Lissa Matthews

Bryce Campbell is a normal, steady guy. He works, he bowls, he has a collection of classic rock tee shirts. He isn't the guy who makes rash decisions, colors outside the lines, or falls in love with the first tattooed, pink haired artist he meets.

Nope. That's not him.

Until it is.

 

Shelley Criss lives life on her own terms. She follows her gut, does what feels right, and keeps things easy. She doesn't do drama, lose her head or heart over a man, and she definitely doesn't fall for the quintessential beige guy who walks into Construct Cakery to pay for a wedding cake he no longer needs.

Nope. That's not her.

Until it is.

 

One look.

One impulsive move.

One kiss…

That's all it takes for Bryce and Shelley to discover love really can happen in an instant.

 

Author's Note: This story has all the instant gratification: Insta-heat. Insta-lust. Insta-love. Please enjoy accordingly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lissa Matthews
• Release date: Jun 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393610540

Lissa Matthews

Coffee drinker extraordinaire, author Lissa Matthews lives and writes in North Carolina. When not at the keyboard with blue collar bad boys, race car drivers, cowboys, shifters, or pretty much any other hero that tickles her fancy, she can be found reading in the backyard on her swing, in the kitchen trying a new recipe she found on Pinterest, watching sports and movies with her family, or perfecting her nap ninja skills.

Book preview

1

Every inch of Bryce Campbell’s six-foot two frame felt out of place in the bakery. The cakes in the windows and even in the pictures on the walls appeared delicate, not that he was the clumsy or fumbling kind. But even the font that spelled out the name of the bakery, Construct Cakery , made him feel like he didn’t belong. What really did it, though? What really gave him pause and caused concern and filled him with the desire to run out the door was the woman behind the counter. Not because she was mean or rude. Not because she wasn’t beautiful, because damn… She was. Not because she had pink hair or tattoos down one arm and across her chest. Not because she wore bright make-up or smacked gum as she stared at him.

No, it was for the simple fact that she was the one. He knew it the second she stood up from the crouched position she’d been in when he’d first walked in the door.

It was the fact that she was the complete opposite of him and that he wouldn’t know what the hell to do with a woman like her.

But it was her. The fabled one.

Talk about a twist of fate.

Mr. Campbell?

Bryce managed a small smile. I don’t think anyone has ever called me Mr. Campbell before. Most people don’t even call my father Mr. Campbell. They just call him Bob.

I was trying to be polite. She smiled and his heart kicked. So did his cock. It’s what I’m supposed to do, but it sounds really formal and not like me, at all. Or you.

What would you normally call someone?

I’m more of a honey or sweetie or babe kinda girl.

He agreed with that. Those are definitely not formal.

I know. She shrugged and he forced himself to keep looking at her face when he’d have preferred to look down to watch the rise and fall of her chest accentuated by the polka dot sundress she wore. But I can call you Bryce, if you prefer.

That’s fine.

Good. I like that name, by the way. It fits you. I’m Shelley.

It’s nice to meet you, Shelley. He liked his name on her lips and liked the feel of hers rolling off his tongue. Their inane small talk would normally grate on his nerves. He didn’t do small talk very well, in any situation, even one he was comfortable with, but with her, he didn’t mind. He was happy to talk about whatever she wanted so long as she continued to talk to him.

She leaned forward to rest her elbows on the glass-top counter. Now, what can I do for you, Bryce? Do you need to order a cake? If so, I need to let you know that we have a minimum six week notice policy. We don’t do rush orders and we don’t have premade cakes.

No, I… Keep your eyes on her face. Just keep your eyes on her face. I don’t need a cake. I need to pay for one. Her eyes held his for a moment longer, questions swimming in the green depths, before sliding away and focusing on his left hand. It was brief, but the glance was enough.

Is the order under your name? She stood up straight again.

I believe it’s under Shael-Campbell. She nodded and typed into the laptop on the counter. He waited.

Okay, so… The order was for a four-tier Neapolitan with strawberry filling and Swiss meringue buttercream, fresh flowers and chocolate covered strawberries. I kind of remember putting this order in. She shrugged. It sounds delicious. The total is… Oh… She paused and lifted her gaze. Her bright eyes connected with his. The order was cancelled.

Yes.

You didn’t get married?

The wedding was supposed to be next week, but no, we’re not getting married.

Oh, Bryce. I’m sorry. I… She looked at a loss for words and yet…

Thank you, but it was a mutual decision.

We have a cancellation policy, and it was cancelled in time. She was all business again. You don’t owe us anything more than the deposit that was already paid.

I know, but I would still like to pay the balance.

Now she looked confused. Why? You don’t have to.

I don’t know. It feels like the right thing to do. You were expecting compensation for a job and just because the wedding was called off doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get paid what was promised when the contract was signed.

The order total was thirteen hundred dollars. The deposit was fifty percent.

Right. Bryce stepped up to the counter. So, will you take a card? He held one up in his hand.

I… Yes.

Thank you. She swiped the plastic across the top of her tablet, then turned it around for him to sign.

Would you like a receipt?

Please.

Silence filled the light space of the bakery’s front room except for the printer somewhere he couldn’t see. Shelley reached down and pulled up a piece of paper, wrote something on it, folded it in thirds and held it and his card out to him.

He smiled.

He wanted to thank her, but there had already been several thank you’s passed between them and it seemed a little redundant to him. I appreciate it

Anytime. She leaned over the counter again. I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you and Miss Shael.

It’s for the best. I’ll… What should he say? What was there to say? He couldn’t ask her out. He couldn’t stand in the front of the cake shop and stare at her. What was left?

Leaving left a bad taste in his mouth and made his legs feel rooted to the floor. He—

Bryce? Is there something else?

No, I… He shook his head. No. Take care, Shelley.

2

Shelley shifted her stance. Again. Wet panties weren’t something anyone ever talked about when it came to sexual arousal in women. Sure, people talked about pointed nipples and heavy breathing and dilated eyes, but no one ever talked about the fact that some women could get wet just by looking at a man and for Shelley, that man was Bryce Campbell.

She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since he left the shop several hours earlier. She’d spent the time feeling both sad for him that his wedding had been canceled and bold enough to enter his phone number in her cell phone only to delete it seconds later. The last time, she left the number in her contacts and took her phone to the back office where her purse hung on a hook.

It wasn’t ethical to swipe Bryce’s phone number, but it was probably less ethical to swipe his address, too. Which she also did.

Shell?

Yeah?

Shane, her business partner and best friend since pre-school, walked around the corner from the kitchen. Together they owned Construct Cakery. The artwork on his body rivaled her own and the hair that was black as midnight had been shorn to the scalp except for the thick strip down the middle. It wasn’t quite a mohawk, but it was pretty damn close.

He was the head baker, head decorator, head accountant, the only person she’d ever claim