Augusta’s Delicious Bodyguards Page 4

  Shock hit him due to her question. He never thought she would figure it out.

  “No. I’ll take care of it,” he heard her whisper.

  In the background, he heard a man’s voice whisper. “Tell him about us, and that we’ll take care of things if he doesn’t stop calling.”

  “No!” she whispered.

  “Who’s with you, Gussy?”

  “Stop calling me Gussy. You know I’ve always hated it.”

  There seemed to be a shuffling going on in her end.

  “Josh, my name is Trent Blake. I’m with the Montana State Patrol. I am giving you warning right now. Stop calling Miss Manning, or we’ll need to take further action in regard to harassment.”

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Josh demanded. Had she really gone to the police?

  “I told you who I am, Mr. Kirby. Please stop calling Augusta.”

  The line went dead before Josh could say another word. Damn her! How’d he know his full name?

  Anger consumed him. Hatred for Augusta ran deep. He gave her the best six years of his life. He slept with the cow. He had gotten a job to look like he was supporting her even though the startup money for the bakery came from her father.

  There was enough money for her to give to him and still have plenty. She wouldn’t even have to work in that shop. But, she said she enjoyed it, he thought sarcastically.

  Looking around his nearly bare studio apartment, he had to figure out how to come up with some money to get out to Kalispell. He didn’t give a flying fuck who her friend was, or what he did for a living, it was time he paid his ex-wife a visit.

  * * * *

  A groan escaped her as she slid down the leather seat of the pickup. She couldn’t believe that Trent had done what he had. Most likely it had to be done, but she had hoped to put it off a while longer before she began to threaten Josh.

  “I can’t believe you did that,” she complained as she looked out the windshield.

  The sky was clear save a few puffy clouds here and there. By morning, it was supposed to be raining. That was one of the effects of living in Montana. Spring thunderstorms were frequent. Lightning and thunder, and a good amount of rain would be predominant.

  “I’m sorry,” Trent said from behind her. “You were hurting emotionally when you were arguing with him. Neither one of us wants to see you like this.”

  She knew he was right. Dealing with Josh had become exhausting. His incessant whining had gotten to be too much.

  Truth be told, she would welcome the day when she didn’t have to talk to him anymore.

  Defeated, she whispered, “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “No need for apologies,” Hunter said beside her. “You shouldn’t have to deal with the likes of him. You’re not going to have to do it alone anymore.”

  “How’d you know his last name?” she asked defeatedly.

  Quiet filled the cab of the pickup. Finally, Augusta heard Trent drag in a deep breath and release it. “I checked up on you when you agreed to go out with me. I’m sorry.”

  Comfort washed through her. She didn’t know these two very well, but they gave her comfort and understanding. Her mind was relaxed around them, but her body was on full alert. Her arousal was building just knowing that they cared for her.

  Her breasts seemed to swell in her bra, and her nipples were tight and throbbing. Her pussy was throbbing as well in her jeans. She was a bit uncomfortable as she felt moisture on her panties. Not once while she was with Josh did she have these reactions.

  “Promise to tell us if he calls again, precious. Please?” Trent asked from the backseat.

  He had scooted forward until his breath was hot on her ear. Tendrils of electricity shot down to her cunt, feeding its desire for both men.

  As much as she wanted to douse the flames building within her, she knew it was too soon. This was technically their first date.

  There was a question on the table. What was it?

  Oh, yes!

  “I promise. Thank you for helping out.” She turned to look at Trent and found her face just inches from his.

  Please kiss me. Please, oh, please, oh, please!

  He didn’t fail to deliver. Trent leaned forward, and his lips brushed against hers. Feathery kisses caressed her at first.

  She felt his hand snake around to the nape of her neck and hold her head in place. The kiss deepened, his lips becoming more demanding, until he opened over her mouth and his tongue slashed out, requesting entrance.

  Instinctively she opened to him, felt his tongue slip across hers. They began to twirl and duel around each other.

  Augusta twisted around and placed her hand on his shoulder. She wanted to hold on to him and not let go of him for hours.

  Trent swept through her mouth as if trying to memorize the inside. When he pulled away, he peppered her lips several times as he ended the kiss.

  Opening her eyes, which she didn’t remember closing, she found herself looking into Trent’s stormy gray eyes. They were usually lighter, but she had noticed when he was angry right before he kissed her, they had gone darker.

  “Mmm.” The sound was guttural from him. “That was nice, precious. I can’t wait to do more with you.”

  His words caused a blush to rise through her. Heat consumed her body as her nipples pebbled while her cunt wept. She didn’t know why her body reacted so quickly to both men.

  Hunter shifted in the seat across the console. He reached out his right hand and cupped her cheek, drawing her around to face him. Navy-blue eyes pierced her as his nostrils flared. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to hers and she opened to him right away.

  Moving her own arm, she slid it across his shoulder and wrapped it around his neck. She held him close as she thrust her tongue into his mouth, ravishing him. Never had she felt wanton or sexy, and she was finding that she liked it.

  Her body was reacting to both men and she was tempted to ask them back to her house, but decorum dictated that she wait. As much attention they showed to her, and knowing they were enjoying it as much as she was, they’d have to wait for at least a couple more dates. Perhaps they didn’t want another date with her knowing about Josh now.

  Soft moans were emanating from Hunter. His left hand slid its way up her arm and laid on her shoulder. The bottom of the palm of his hand rested on the upper slope of one breast.

  Please touch me. Please!

  As they continued to kiss, his hand began to inch downward, but before he could cover her breast, a knocking on the window sounded. Ripping her mouth from his, a shriek escaped her.

  “Damn! We shouldn’t have stayed so long here,” Trent exclaimed.

  Augusta turned back and sat up straight in her seat. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as Hunter rolled his window down. Standing outside the pickup was a Kalispell police officer.

  Looking around the area, Augusta spotted the police cruiser and another officer standing next to the hood of the car, his hand on the butt of his gun. She thought it was overkill, that they didn’t know who they were dealing with.

  “Yes, officer?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. We’ve had some break-ins in the area recently, and we received a call indicating your truck had been parked out here for a while with you not exiting,” the office explained.

  Hunter nodded. Augusta realized he had his hands on the steering wheel. A glance in the backseat, she saw that Trent had his hands on the tops of the backs of the bucket seats. She kept her hands in her lap, clutched together.

  “I understand, officer. If I may, I’d like to reach into my back pocket and retrieve my ID and my badge. Officer Trent and I are both with the state police,” Hunter said calmly.

  “Go ahead, sir. But please, no quick movements.” The officer spoke but then turned his attention to Augusta. “Ma’am, are you here of your own free will?”

  What kind of question was that?

  “Yes,” she answered a bit more harshly than she had intended. She cleared her t
hroat. “Of course, I am.”

  “I understand your confusion, ma’am. However, you are one of the business owners in this area, and we have to make sure you aren’t being harassed or coerced to be here with these men.”

  Something wasn’t right here. No one said anything about her being a business owner, and she had never seen these two police officers before. It was possible they were new to the force, but if she hadn’t seen them, then that would stand to reason they didn’t know who she was.

  “Who am I?” she asked, not wanting to be sassy, just curious.

  Hunter glanced over at her, a look of disbelief on his face. He shook his head at her, a silent order to keep quiet. He handed his open wallet to the officer along with his badge.

  The officer accepted them. He glanced at them briefly before he looked back at Augusta.

  “You’re Miss Kirby. The owner of Augusta’s Cakery,” he answered.

  She couldn’t contain the gasp that escaped her. A tendril of fear gripped her.

  Handing the badge and wallet back to Hunter, the officer nodded at him. “Thank you, sir. We won’t trouble you anymore.”

  Tipping his hat at them, he walked back to his partner and their cruiser. The two got in their vehicle and drove down the alley.

  “I don’t like this,” Trent said as he began pushing buttons on his phone.

  “He called me by Josh’s last name. I never took it. I’ve always used by maiden name. Why would he do that?” Augusta was shaking, and she couldn’t figure out why.

  “I got a picture of the two of them.” Trent seemed proud of himself.

  “Did you get his name?” she asked as she looked over at Hunter.

  “It was Shephard,” answered Hunter. “We’ll go check it out at the station. You need to go home and get some rest.”

  She shook her head. “I need to get a head start on tomorrow. With chances of power outages from the storm coming in, I need to get some things made up to have ready.”

  Hunter looked back at Trent and smiled. Trent piped up. “Then we’ll help you out. Put us to work, precious. I think Hunter here will look great in an apron.”

  The levity lessoned the fear, and a laugh escaped her. “I think I’d like to see both of you in an apron.”

  Leaning toward her, Hunter caressed her cheek. “I think both of us would look great wearing just the aprons. You too, darlin’.”

  Her laughter continued as she pushed her arm out and hit his chest. “Not yet, buddy. Not yet.”

  Damn, his chest is hard as a rock! I’d love to see it!

  “Perhaps one day, Augusta. I’d like to investigate that option at a later date.” Hunter touched his lips to hers again, a bit more chaste. “Let’s go do some baking.”

  * * * *

  Every Christmas, his mother would go into baking mode the week before the holiday. He and Hillary would help since most of the goodies were distributed as gifts to family, friends, and his fellow police officers. Also, a mess of them would go to teachers at Hillary’s school. So, Hunter was no stranger to reading recipes or using the pink KitchenAid mixer that she Augusta had sitting on the center table.

  Right now, the large mixer sitting in the corner was mixing bread dough.

  Trent was fumbling with folding squares of dough at their corners in over the cheese and fruit mixture in the middle. Hunter was still surprised that Augusta came in every morning at four a.m. and did this. With the bakery opening at six in the morning, she had to work quickly.

  “I’m surprised you have such mad skills in the kitchen,” Augusta said as she dumped a large ball of dough on the table.

  “Oh, yes. My mom taught me and Hillary. We can make up some wicked plates of treats for the holidays. Perhaps she can show you some of her recipes some time.” Hunter was watching Augusta as she began to roll out the dough.

  In front of her sat a large bowl of melted butter and a cinnamon sugar mixture. She was going to make cinnamon rolls.

  Turning the mixer on, Hunter watched the blade begin to turn as it creamed the butter, sugar, and egg mixture he had put in the bowl. She had asked him to start a batch of special cookies that would go to her next-door neighbors.

  “Your mother sounds like a lovely old-fashioned lady. You don’t hear of a lot of women baking up a storm at Christmastime anymore. That’s why we’re so busy at that time of year.” It was nice that she had complimented his mother. Not a lot of women were that polite anymore.

  “What made you want to start your own bakery?” Trent asked as he carefully laid the pastries he was working with in backing pans.

  A shrug happened before she responded, “My mother taught me how to bake. When I got older, I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do. I lost my mom when I was sixteen, and I was looking at all her recipes. I thought, why don’t I start my own bakery.” A smile crossed her features as she strolled down memory lane. “After I graduated, my dad sent me to Le Cordon Bleu in Paris where I learned how to bake in large batches. I also learned new recipes. When I graduated, I traveled around Europe, visiting all the major cities. I would go to various bakeries and learn some more.

  “I spent two years working in a bakery in Paris, and then two more in New York. Then, my father was in Paramus, New Jersey, for a tour, and I met him there for a weekend. That’s where I met Josh. We swam, played tennis together. After that, Josh came to the bakery I worked at one day and ordered a cake for his grandmother’s birthday. For an entire week he visited the shop every day, asking me to go out with him. I denied him for the next month that I worked there. Then, I moved back here. This had been a bakery before, but the previous owners couldn’t make a go of it. It sat empty for several years, so when my father told me he had paid a five-year lease on it, the only condition was that I had to clear it out. Six months it took to get it in working order. Then it was a struggle to get it up and running once we opened the doors.”

  “I can only imagine the power bills for this place,” Hunter said with a laugh.

  “Yeah, they can be quite expensive.” Her brows scrunched together as if she was thinking about something. “Now, I guess that doesn’t matter anymore. I have more than enough money to keep it going, although I am trying to stick with the same budget I had before my dad passed.”

  Trent walked around the table and stopped next to Augusta. “I’m sorry about your father,” he said. “I know how hard it is to lose a parent.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

  Moisture coated her eyes, and Hunter knew she was thinking of her father. “By the way,” Hunter noted, “you said your father had money. Was he rich by inheritance?”

  “No,” she giggled. “No. He made his money on the golf circuit.”

  Turning off the mixer, Hunter stepped over to his woman and exclaimed, “Your father is Phillip Manning, isn’t he?”

  Chapter Five

  Thunder crashed, shaking the building. A second later, lightning flashed through the windows, half blinding Augusta. A moment passed before the lights in the bakery flickered several times, and then darkness blanketed the interior.

  A shriek sounded from the front of the shop, and several groans followed. She moved quickly to see what was going on.

  The front part of the bakery was lighter than the back room due to the windows at the front of the building. However, a dismal pall had settled with no lights inside.

  “Is everyone all right?” Augusta asked as she moved out amongst the tables.

  A woman with two young kids sat at one table while two businessmen sat at another near the windows. Four older women were holding court against the wall that separated Augusta’s Cakery from the yoga studio next door.

  It had been a light morning for customers sitting and enjoying her fare which Augusta had suspected would happen because of the weather. Earlier, the place was packed with people buying goods to either take to work or to take home to have for the day.

  Several people answered verbally to Augusta’s question though the littl
e girl that was sitting with her mother was trying to hold back crying. Moving over to the table, Augusta knelt in front of the toddler.

  “Are you okay?”

  The little blonde head nodded, but fear was still evident on her face.

  “It’s going to be all right.” Augusta looked at the little boy, probably a year older than his sister. The kids looked so much alike, and they looked like the woman they were with. “Is this your mommy?”

  Looking up at the woman, the girl said in a scared little voice, “Yes.”

  “Do you know that mommies are special?” Not waiting for the answer, Augusta continued. “Mommies are strong people who help protect little kids in storms. They know how to play games in the dark, and they let little girls and boys have goodies that they usually won’t let you have on other days. In fact, I bet your mommy would like to take some donut holes home for you guys.”

  The girl, who appeared to be about three or four, had turned back toward Augusta while she was talking, but now she looked back up at her mother and nodded her head anxiously. The woman smiled and nodded her agreement.

  Augusta stood and put her hand out to the girl and boy. “Why don’t you two come with me?”

  She led the two little ones over to the operations side of the display case, over to the section that held the donuts. Taking a pink box, she opened the case and reached for the donut holes.

  There were glazed ones and chocolate. But, Augusta liked to have glazed ones rolled in colorful sprinkles for the kids. Those were always free. They would add them to orders when parents came to get some goodies.

  Letting the kids help her, they put the delectables in the box, and then Augusta added some other items. There was no telling how long the electricity might be out, and this way the mom had some things to serve her kids to keep them occupied. There were also a couple croissant sandwiches in the box.

  The kid’s eyes were as large as saucers as they watched her put stuff in the square container. When she was finished, Augusta took some string and tied the box, so it was easy to carry, and it wouldn’t open until it arrived home with the family. She let the boy carry it back out to the table.