Unicorns and Honey Cakes Read online

  It had been a painstaking process – and now, Johnson’s Pies and Bakery had, somehow, stolen her idea out from under her. Again.

  First it had been her mini apricot turnovers. Then it’d been her chocolate chip and cherry blondies. Then her honey apple gingerbread. Then it’d been –

  Oh, what’s the use, Sylvie thought, shaking her head, before putting her feet back on the pedals of her bike, hopelessness welling up inside her.

  What seemed like such a short time ago, she’d been so happy: she’d finally achieved her dream of returning to the little mountain town where she grew up and opening her own bakery, after years of working for other people. Baking had been her lifelong passion, and finally, after years of traveling from apprenticeship to apprenticeship, working her ass off and learning everything she could from master bakers all across the country, she’d finally felt ready to start out on her own.

  She’d come back here to Girdwood Springs, her hometown, knowing that with all the tourists and passers-by who came through here on their way up the mountains, she could finally have her dream of her own little bakery.

  And at first, her dream had come true.

  Her business had been an undeniable success. She’d seen a roaring trade from families driving past, from visitors to the town, and of course the locals, who remembered her and who she’d known since she was a little girl. There weren’t enough people who lived in Girdwood Springs to keep her in business, though – she needed people passing through to stop and buy something.

  Which they had been! Sylvie thought grimly as she hopped off her bike, wheeling it over the sidewalk and down the side of her little bakery.

  But all that had changed as soon as Johnson’s Pies and Bakery had opened up.

  Their storefront was bigger. Flashier. It had a huge, lit-up sign that said ‘BAKERY’ with a big arrow pointing at their door. It was visible from way down the street, so anyone looking for a pie or a cookie would see it from a distance, and, Sylvie supposed, develop a kind of bakery tunnel vision, where they’d drive straight there, ignoring her own much more modest storefront.

  Of course, she still got some customers. The locals had all stuck with her, of course. And she got some foot traffic, enticed by the smells that drifted out her bakery door – Sylvie had, at least, been confident her products were superior, since she poured her entire heart and soul into creating them.

  But now, even that’s changed.

  Sylvie took a deep breath as she parked her bike behind her shop, determined not to let her apprentice, Emily, see how downhearted she was.

  She just didn’t understand how Johnson’s Pies and Bakery were doing this – how were they getting her plans for new products? Her recipes?! No one knew about them except Emily, and Sylvie trusted her completely. She knew Emily would never pass on her secrets like that.

  Sylvie had been so sure the apple and thyme pies were a surefire winner. And now, she wouldn’t be able to sell them without seeming like she was just copying from the competition.

  Still, they’re not the only trick up my sleeve, she thought, pressing her lips together in determination as she pushed open the door to her bakery, and was immediately enveloped in the smell of spices, pastries, and sugars.

  It was Emily’s day to open, so Sylvie could have one day of the week where she didn’t have a four thirty a.m. start. On this one day, she could arrive just before lunch, knowing that Emily was at the stage where she could handle things all right by herself until she got there.

  “Heya, Sylvie!” Emily called out from the front of the shop when she heard the bakery’s back door close. “How’s things?”

  “All right,” Sylvie replied, unwinding her scarf from around her neck and hanging it up on the coatrack. It might have only been early fall, but the mountain winds were already chilly. “How’ve things been this morning?”

  She walked out to the front of the shop, trying not to look like she was inspecting the displays too closely… even though she was. She couldn’t help it: she trusted Emily, but this had been her dream for so long, she couldn’t help but want everything to be perfect.

  “It’s been okay – a few walk-ins, but nothing much.” Emily glanced at Sylvie, making a face, her freckled nose scrunching a little. “I can tell you already saw it – what Johnson’s is selling today.”

  Sylvie cursed herself internally. She’d always been like that – no matter how hard she tried, her emotions were always completely clear on her face. She hadn’t wanted Emily to know how upset it had gotten her! It was useless to deny it now, though.

  “Yeah,” she said, shaking her head. “I just don’t get it. Do they have a spy camera or something? How are they doing this?!”

  “I don’t know, Sylvs,” Emily said, sighing and shaking her head. “It was bad enough when they opened up with that big, lit-up sign. I thought it was kind of tacky, but what do I know, apparently.”

  “Well, if that’s the first sign you see for a bakery when you drive into town, I guess it’s just normal that’s where you’d head,” Sylvie said. “Obviously I’m just going to have to take out a loan to get my own huge, tacky sign.”

  On top of the loan I already have for this place, she thought, pressing her lips together. The bank was going to love her!

  “Seriously though, Sylvs, don’t you think it’s… weird?” Emily asked, her voice dropping to a whisper, as if the owners of Johnson’s Pies and Bakery might be here right now, somehow eavesdropping on them. “They come here out of nowhere and open up a bakery right down the road from yours, no one really knows who owns it, and it’s staffed entirely by out-of-towners who I’ve certainly never seen around before… don’t you think that’s kind of strange?”

  To be honest, Sylvie did. But she wasn’t sure what gossiping or complaining about it was going to achieve. So she just shrugged, hoping that for once, her unease wasn’t completely plain on her face.

  I’ll just have to work harder. And get ready to pull that trick out of my sleeve…

  It was a trick she hadn’t even dared to tell Emily about. But a trick that, nonetheless, she was hoping would lure some customers her way.

  “Anyway,” Emily said. “I made a list of the things we’ll need to restock for tomorrow – I can go do the orders run now, if you don’t mind holding things down here by yourself?”

  “No, of course not,” Sylvie said. “Thanks for doing that – it’ll save me doing it this afternoon.”

  “No problem,” Emily said, untying her apron from around her waist and hanging it up. “But oh, that reminds me!” Emily turned back as she reached the door, tapping her forehead with her palm. “Eula James has been calling off the hook since about ten minutes ago. She said it’s urgent. I was meant to tell you to call her the moment you got in.”

  “Did it sound like something bad?” Sylvie asked, frowning as she headed to the phone out the back.

  “No, not bad, just… something,” Emily said, shaking her head. “You know what Eula’s like. But she really did want you to call back.”

  Sylvie nodded as she dialed the number for Eula’s diner, situated a little farther down the mountain. As local business owners, Eula and Sylvie saw each other regularly at community meetings, but Sylvie had been visiting Eula’s diner since she was a little girl. Her chili dogs were to die for.

  “Sylvie? That you, hon?” Eula’s voice sounded from the other end of the phone almost the moment it started ringing. “You’ll never guess what just happened.”

  Sylvie had to suppress a smile. Eula was the town gossip, and Sylvie wondered what news, exactly, she had to share this time. “Emily said it was something urgent.”

  “Urgent isn’t the word, hon. Have you had any customers this morning yet?”

  Sylvie blinked. “I just got in, but Emily said there were a couple of people who came in earlier. Nothing special.”

  “Then he can’t have come in yet. She’d know if he had,” Eula said, sounding relieved.

  Sylvie, on the other
hand, was just baffled. “Who’s he? What’re you talking about?”

  “Well, hon, you remember how at last month’s community meeting Gerard Bryant brought in that article about the food critic? The one who secretly travels around, sampling random places and writing about them on his website?”

  Sylvie did. And she knew the name of the critic, too – well, sort of. They were a mystery wrapped in a riddle, who went by the pen name of Aubrey Z. No one knew what they looked like, or where they’d show up next. The only way to find out you’d been reviewed was by checking their blog, which Sylvie, personally, was a huge fan of. Aubrey Z.’s reviews were hilarious, witty, and sometimes scathing, but always entertaining. They wrote about food as if it were art, but the good thing was, they’d review anything and anywhere. They didn’t just stick to high-end restaurants and snobby wine bars. They’d review a hot dog stand in the middle of the street if it happened to catch their eye.

  And last month, Gerard Bryant had brought in an article to show everyone about how Aubrey Z. was setting off on another of their food odysseys, informing everyone that this time, they were off looking for the best of what small-town America had to offer.

  Sylvie bit her lip. Everyone at the meeting had seemed convinced this meant Aubrey Z. would be sailing into Girdwood Springs any day now. But Sylvie wasn’t so sure. There were a lot of small towns in America, after all, and while she personally thought the place was pretty special, there was no reason why Aubrey Z. would have heard of it.

  “Yeeeesssss,” she said cautiously, and she could practically feel Eula radiating anticipation from all the way down the mountain.

  “Well, he came into my diner today,” Eula burst out, clearly unable to hold back any longer. “And I served him the best chili dog he’s ever experienced.”

  Sylvie didn’t doubt it was a good chili dog – but she did have other doubts.

  “He told you he was Aubrey Z.?” she asked, shaking her head a little. “Doesn’t that defeat the point a little of him being a mystery food critic?”

  “Well, of course he didn’t say that,” Eula huffed. “But I could tell just by looking at him he wasn’t just some regular tourist. He had that look about him – a special look. All tall and broad. With those piercing gray eyes, black hair and silver temples, despite being only about your age.” Eula’s voice sounded almost dreamy – like she was describing a handsome actor rather than a mysterious food critic. “That’s why I said you’d know him if you saw him.”

  Sylvie lifted a hand, massaging her forehead a little. “So… a good-looking guy came into your shop, and you decided it must be a famous food critic? Eula, I don’t mean to sound skeptical, but…”

  “Doubt me all you want, but I know I’m right,” Eula loftily informed her. “He practically admitted it once I asked him a few questions – he even asked me how I’d known. I told him you had to get up pretty early to fool me, and he put his hands up right there and then!”

  Sylvie didn’t think it was all that likely that Aubrey Z. would have managed to keep their identity secret for all these years if they just admitted who they were to everyone who asked, but whatever the case, Eula seemed completely convinced in what she was saying, and Sylvie knew from long experience that there was no use arguing with her when she got like this.

  “Well, thank you for telling me this,” she said diplomatically. “I’ll be sure to tell you if he swings by.”

  If he doesn’t go to Johnson’s first…

  “I can tell you don’t believe me, young Sylvie,” Eula said, and Sylvie could just picture her shaking her finger. “But you’ll see what I mean soon enough. Since I told him he had to visit your bakery.”

  Sylvie blinked. “Sorry?”

  “I know the troubles you’ve been having with those rascals who set up shop down the way from you,” Eula said, sounding outraged. “So I told him, you go to Sylvie’s bakery, young man. Not that other place. Just think – once he writes about you on his website, you’ll have more customers than you know what to do with.”

  Sylvie opened her mouth, then closed it again, not sure what to say. It was true that a review on a famous website would help her out. But she really didn’t think this guy was Aubrey Z., even though she appreciated very much that Eula’s heart was in the right place.

  “Well, I can only hope,” she eventually settled on saying.

  Who knew? Maybe it was her lucky day, and this guy really was a famous mystery food writer. Stranger things had happened.

  Well. Actually, they hadn’t.

  Unless you count the owner of Johnson’s Pies and Bakery being, somehow, a mind reader, Sylvie thought, resisting the urge to grind her teeth.

  From the front of the shop she heard the tinkling of the bell that told her a customer had just opened the door.

  “Eula, I gotta go,” Sylvie said quickly. “Duty calls.”

  “You’ll thank me later!” Eula’s voice sailed out of the phone just before Sylvie hung up, shaking her head. Quickly tossing on a black apron with Sylvie’s written across the front, she hurried out to the front of the shop, plastering her best customer service smile onto her face.

  “Welcome to Sylvie’s Sweets and Bakery!” she chirped, still tying her apron, before she raised her head and actually looked at the person who’d entered the shop –

  Whoa, she thought, blinking, her mouth popping open. Hot guy alert!

  Chapter 3

  Whoa, thought Gale, blinking, as a woman hurried out from the bakery’s back room. Cute gal alert!

  The woman who stood behind the counter had glossy black hair pulled back into a bun, full, red lips, and the most brilliantly green eyes Gale had ever seen, blinking at him from behind her slightly disheveled bangs. Even beneath the apron she’d been tying around her waist when she’d first emerged, he could make out the lush curves of her figure.

  She’s more than just cute, Gale thought, feeling mildly stunned. She’s utterly gorgeous.

  “Uh – sorry!” the woman said quickly a moment later, and Gale realized they’d been simply standing there, staring at each other for at least a good ten seconds. “I guess I just, uh, spaced out there for a moment. What can I get for you? See anything you like, or can I recommend something?”

  She sounded flustered, and from the two pink spots appearing on her cheeks, Gale could tell she probably was flustered.

  And adorable.

  “Well, this place already came highly recommended, so I thought I’d just come in and check it out,” he said, feeling his chest tightening as he watched the shy way she glanced at him as she brushed her bangs out of her eyes. He forced his eyes away, looking down at the pies and cakes on display beneath the counter.

  Gale could tell just by looking at them that they’d been made with care and love. The rows of apricot turnovers looked crisp and delicious, lightly dusted with powdered sugar and slivered almonds. There were baked apple roses, each slender slice of apple arranged to look like a folded petal. The baked pine nut and honey tarts were gooey and golden brown, while the strawberry cream mille-feuilles were a perfect, delicate balance of fruit, cream and thin layers of pastry, sitting layer on layer.

  “Did you make these?” Gale couldn’t help but ask, sincerely impressed. Ol’ Eula back at the diner had been right – this place definitely was worth stopping for.

  “I sure did – I’m Sylvie, after all, like the sign says.” The woman paused. “Though obviously I got some help from my apprentice, Emily.”

  “Ah, so you’re Sylvie.” Gale glanced up, unable to stop himself from smiling as he looked at her – and finding it more than a little difficult to tear his eyes away from her gorgeous green eyes. “And I guess these are your sweets and, uh, bakes.”

  Wow. Smooth.

  Gale resisted the urge to grimace at himself. He didn’t usually have any trouble making normal conversation with people – even incredibly attractive people – but for some reason, Sylvie was making him feel almost tongue-tied. His heart rate sped up ev
ery time their eyes met – every time she did even the most minor of things, such as tilt her head a little, or blink her bangs out of her eyes.

  He’d never met anyone who had this kind of effect on him before.

  “So, um, can I help you decide on something?” Sylvie asked, interrupting the crazed train of his thoughts, and Gale clenched his jaw, telling himself to focus. He was here to buy a cake, not stare at the person who baked them, no matter how gorgeous she was.

  “Well, they all look so good,” he said honestly, forcing himself to look back down at the cakes and tarts in the display, instead of at Sylvie. “I don’t know how anyone could decide between them.”

  “I could… make up a little tasting plate if you liked,” Sylvie said, a little hesitantly. When he glanced up at her, she seemed to be almost squinting at him, as if trying to figure something out. “I don’t want to make you choose – and maybe it’d be nice to try a little bit of everything?”

  “Oh, no, I don’t want you to go to that kind of trouble,” Gale said, raising his hands. “Besides, wouldn’t that mean cutting a bit out of everything here? I wouldn’t want you to do that. So I’ll just have the…” He glanced down again. Honestly, everything looked equally good, so he knew he wouldn’t be disappointed no matter what he chose. “… The baked apple rose,” he said, his decision entirely arbitrary. “And a baked pine nut and honey tart,” he added a second later, unable to resist.

  Sylvie laughed lightly, and Gale felt the sound ripple through him like a wave on the ocean. “Well, sure thing. The apple roses are nice heated with a little ice cream – would you like the tart first while I go heat one up?”

  “That sounds incredible,” he said, nodding. “Do you make the ice cream yourself too?”

  “No, I don’t,” Sylvie admitted as she leaned down to open the display. “It’s something I’d like to do one day, but at the moment I buy it from the homemade ice cream shop down the road – so I can assure you it’s all fresh and made with love! I wouldn’t put anything else on a customer’s plate.”