Cinnamon and Spice Conundrum (Cinnamon Rolls and Pumpkin Spice)

Chapter 1

Ryan

“My life’s a dumpster fire,” I grumble, as I flop my tall, lanky frame into the guest chair in front of my best friend’s desk.

“That bad, eh?” Sam says with a chuckle, glancing at me over his computer monitor.

I groan. “Who came up with the Denver Metro Twenty-Five Most Eligible Bachelors list, anyway? And why am I on it?”

Sam smirks. “Woe is me.” He pretends to rub tears from his eyes for a few beats. “Seriously, Ryan, every male in the tri-county area would give his left arm to be on that list.”

“Not me,” I say, accenting my statement with a firm head bob. “Last week a woman tried to sneak past the concierge at my apartment building. And this week, one tried to get past security here at the office, claiming she had an appointment with me. They’re stalking me.”

A loud put-out sigh escapes as I vividly remember the scene beside the security desk at the software company Sam and I co-own. Luckily, the tall leggy blonde didn’t recognize me. I was coming back from lunch and hid behind a ficus plant and a pricy oversized decorative vase while letting the security guy handle tossing her out of the building.

“I can’t believe how aggressive these women are. They’re like vultures. Except they’re wearing designer clothes, with perfect hair and flawless makeup. Now whenever a woman approaches me, I immediately question her motives.”

Sam’s expression turns serious, and he taps his finger on his chin—his tell that he’s thinking long and hard about something. Whenever he made that face while we were working on a group project for one of our college coding classes, I knew we were going to make something great. “That is a problem. You should hide out for a while until this all blows over.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious. You got any suggestions as to where I can go?”

The chin tapping continues, then my friend’s expression changes as if a lightbulb just went on inside his head. “I have the perfect place! Work for Sadie. She’s taken on more than she can handle, and her morning barista just quit. You can act as her fill-in until things cool off.”

His sister, whom I’ve surprisingly never met, lives in a small touristy community in the mountains on the other side of Colorado, about as far from Denver as you can get without leaving the state.

His suggestion has appeal, so I don’t immediately scoff at the idea. “No one would know me there, would they?” I murmur, vocalizing my thoughts.

“Exactly! It’s perfect for you, plus you’re the only one I trust to help out my sister without getting tangled up in her messy life.”

Messy doesn’t come close to describing all the scrapes and jams that Sam has told me about his sister getting into. Although I’ve never met her, I’ve got an image in my head of a modern-day Lucille Ball, catastrophes following her around like a shadow.

My friend grins and rambles on, taking my contemplative silence as an opening for further persuasion. “You can use the cabin my grandad left me. It’s on a small lake so you can also get in some fishing. Plus, working at Busy Brews in college left you well-trained, yeah?” Sam folds his arms over his chest and grins, knowing he had me at fishing.

I grew up in Minnesota and spent the summers at my grandparents’ cabin, catching walleye pike and white bass. The rigors of starting a new software company and living miles from any reasonable lake has put a real dent in my fishing hobby. I haven’t cast a line for over five years .

“Does the cabin have Wi-Fi? I’ll need to get some work done while I’m there.” I’m a night owl; programming at night comes naturally to me.

“It does, and I installed a new highspeed router last time I was there! What do you say? Are you in?” The hopeful expression on Sam’s face combined with the fact that he’s my best friend makes it impossible to turn him down. And he knows it.

I grunt, trying to act inconvenienced, while in fact I’m a tad bit excited about the opportunity to get away from being chased by women who are only after my wealth. “I’ll have the cabin to myself for the whole time?”

Sam nods. “Sadie lives above the coffee shop. The cabin is all yours.”

This offer just gets better and better, but I try not to let my eagerness leak through. “Okay, I’ll do it. But I don’t want anyone there to know who I am, just in case... How about I pretend to be someone else? Someone who has a lot less money.” I’m still stinging from everything that’s happened because of that stupid list.

“She knows my business partner’s name is Ryan, so you’ll need to go incognito,” Sam says, as if we’re planning a spy mission.

My eyes widen as an idea hits. “How about I pretend to be Jack?”

“Nice try, Turnbill, but there’s no way you can be me,” Sam’s nerdy assistant yells from his adjoining office. The guy obviously has big ears.

Seconds later, the assistant ambles in, causing both Sam and I to laugh.

“He has a point, Ryan,” Sam says between guffaws.

Jack reminds me of one of those people in the insurance commercial about becoming your parents. The guy’s dressed in a dull brown cardigan sweater, a nondescript collar shirt, and neatly ironed pants. Trousers might be a better term—the pressed line from the iron runs the full length of each leg. The outfit reminds me of what my grandfather used to wear. I wouldn’t be caught dead in that.

Or would I . . . ?

Glancing down at myself, I wonder whether I can give up what my personal shopper calls “new money aesthetics,” a style she says exudes confidence, luxury, and success. Ever since I hired her, I always wear luxury or designer brands and sport a large expensive watch on my wrist. Sometimes I even carry a leather man bag. Even my tennis shoes are from the most upscale and popular brands, like NOBULL and Cole Haan. How important to me are these luxury trappings and pricy attire?

“Well?” Sam says with a teasing smirk.

“Hey, with Jack as my inspiration and a wardrobe makeover, I think I can pull it off,” I say. I’ll even replace my contacts with black-framed glasses, to complete the nerdier look. Bonus: This new wardrobe should also help keep my identity a secret if I happen to bump into any gold diggers in the quaint mountain town.

“You can’t drive the Land Rover or the BMW,” Sam reminds me.

Jack’s face lights up. “Switch cars with me! It will be the perfect disguise.”

My eyes narrow. “What kind of car do you drive?”

Sam and Jack exchange side-eye glances before the assistant admits, “A 2010 Honda Civic. It runs like a charm and doesn’t have an ounce of rust.”

Hating to give up either of my beloved vehicles, I shake my head. “No thanks.”

A tsk-tsk comes from my friend. “No lowly assistant could afford one of your pricy rides, Ryan. That would be a sure giveaway.” Sam then turns to Jack. “No offense.”

Jack shrugs. “None taken.”

The kid sure is laid-back. He should have taken that as his opening to ask for a raise—I sure would have .

“We can swap vehicles, but only on one condition,” I say, relenting to the inevitable.

“What condition?” Jack asks.

“You drive my vehicle only to and from work and park the vehicle in a fully enclosed garage every night.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Ryan’s cars are his babies,” he mutters.

The assistant’s eyes light up. “I live with my folks; they have an attached garage! I can drive their Lincoln Town Car if I need wheels for anything else.”

A chuckle slips out. Jack really is just like one of the people in that commercial. No one drives a Town Car except for old geezers.

“Deal,” I say, extending my hand. Jack and I shake, his grasp firmer than I expected. We agree he’ll borrow the Land Rover; I just can’t see the nerdy kid driving a Beemer.

“Sweet!” Jack says with a fist pump. When his desk phone rings, he scampers away like a squirrel that just found a stash of acorns.

A pit forms in my stomach at the thought of how much I’m going to miss my luxury wheels. Jack better take good care of my beloved vehicle. On the other hand, I guess I can make the sacrifice for a couple weeks in order to get away from all these stalkers.

“I’ll call Sadie and set the stage,” Sam says in an excited voice. He spreads his hands with pizzazz. “Assistant Jack has some vacation time. Because he has experience as a barista, he’s willing to fill in at The Cinnamon & Spice Café as a favor to his boss, while staying in the boss’s grandad’s cabin. Fishing and occasional light yardwork are on the agenda when he’s not working at the café.”

I stifle a laugh at how much Sam sounds like he’s describing a scene in a play.

Grinning ear to ear, he smacks me on the shoulder. “It’s the perfect setup!”

What can go wrong in a few weeks? I fill in while Sam’s sister finds a new barista, I get to do some fishing and much-needed relaxing. I’ll be out of sight until this unwanted fame—or should I call it notoriety?—from that darn list settles down and I can return to my old life. This fake identity is sounding better and better.