Tempting the Mountain Man (Sweetheart Falls)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

POLLY

T he early morning light filters through the bakery windows as I knead dough for the day’s first batch of bread. The rhythmic motion is soothing, but my peace is interrupted by Sophie’s worried voice.

“Polly, we really need to do something about the stand mixer,” she says, gesturing to the mixer that we use for most of our batters. “It’s making that weird grinding noise again.”

I put down the bag of cake icing and look over at the mixer. It’s probably older than I am. When I bought Sweet Nothings, I knew I’d have to repair or replace it, probably sooner than later. I just hoped it would be later—much later.

I sigh, mentally calculating the cost. A new commercial stand mixer could easily set us back at least one thousand dollars. Money that, if I’m honest, I don’t have to spare right now. But…without a mixer, we’re severely limited in what we can produce in the bakery. I’d have to hire an additional baker if we had to mix everything by hand and…also something I don’t have budget for right now.

“You’re right,” I admit, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. “I’ll make some calls this afternoon. We can’t risk it breaking down completely.”

Sophie nods, relief evident on her face. Her blonde ponytail bobs as she wipes down the counter. “Thanks. I was worried you might try to push it for another week.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I joke, though part of me wishes I could. “Maybe we could duct tape it together?”

Sophie rolls her eyes, smiling broadly. “Sure, and while we’re at it, why don’t we replace all our measuring cups with coconut shells?”

I laugh, grateful for her ability to lighten the mood. “Hey, that could be our new gimmick. ‘Sweet Nothings: Where Stone Age Meets Gourmet.’”

The phone’s shrill ring cuts through our laughter.

I wipe my hands on my apron and reach for the receiver. “Sweet Nothings. How can I help you?”

“Morning, Polly!” Chuck’s familiar voice booms through the line. “How’s that birthday cake coming along?”

I smile at his enthusiasm. Chuck’s been a regular since before I took over the bakery, and his excitement over our creations never fails to boost my spirits. “Good morning, Chuck. It’s almost done. Your sister’s going to love it.”

“Great! Listen, I hate to ask, but I’m tied up with my cabin project. You know how these things go. Any chance my buddy Gabe could swing by to pick it up? He’s in town helping me out. I can pay you the next time I’m in.”

“No problem at all, Chuck,” I assure him, glancing at the half-decorated cake on my workbench. “When should I expect him?”

“Around noon. Thanks, Polly. You’re a lifesaver!”

After hanging up, I leave Sophie at the front counter, put my earbuds in, and crank my favorite playlist. I focus on finishing the cake, determined to make it perfect.

Just before noon, the bell above the door chimes. Sophie, who’s restocking the display case, looks up. “Welcome to Sweet Nothings! What can I get for you today?”

I glance over, curious about our new customer, and nearly drop the piping bag I’m holding. The man who just walked in is nothing short of breathtaking. Tall and broad-shouldered with the kind of deep tan that comes from working outdoors, and eyes the color of toasted hazelnuts. He’s dressed simply in jeans and a fitted t-shirt that does nothing to hide his muscular build. My heart thumps in my chest, and I silently remind myself that I’ve sworn off men for the time being—even men who look yummy.

“Hi,” he says, his voice deep and rich like molasses. “I’m here to pick up a cake for Chuck?”

I step forward, my heart racing. “Oh, you must be Gabe,” I say, wincing internally at how breathy my voice sounds. I clear my throat and try again. “I’m Polly. The cake is right here.”

As I move to the counter, I bite my lip when I see how tightly his t-shirt stretches across his broad chest. My cheeks flush hot as an image flashes through my mind—licking powdered sugar off those muscles. I shake my head, trying to banish the thought. What’s wrong with me? You’d think I’d never seen a man before.

“Nice to meet you, Polly,” Gabe says, his eyes meeting mine. He tilts his head as he looks at me, and I catch him glancing over my body, his eyes lingering for a moment on my hips. “Chuck’s told me a lot about this place. Said I had to try your famous apple turnovers while I’m in town.”

I laugh, grateful for the chance to talk about what I do best. “Well, Chuck’s one of my biggest fans. But,” I smile and gesture toward the display case, “my apple turnovers are a town favorite.”

Gabe watches me, and I wish I knew what was going through his mind. I can’t tell if he thinks I’m zany or if he’s genuinely interested in what I’m saying. “I’ll have to try them for myself. Could you put four in a bag for me?”

“Of course,” I say, moving behind the counter. “Anything else?”

Gabe walks over and looks intently at the pastries on display. I know I shouldn’t be staring at him like this, but I can’t help it. Watching his muscles flex as he moves is mesmerizing.

“So, Gabe,” I say, aiming for casual, “Chuck mentioned you’re helping him with his cabin? Are you in construction?”

He looks up and shakes his head. “Not exactly. I just mustered out of the Army. Chuck and I go way back—we served together on my first tour. He asked for some help with his cabin, and I didn’t have anything else planned, so,” he pauses, “I figured why not?”

“Oh,” I say, genuinely impressed. “Thank you for your service.” I wince internally at my clumsy words, but Gabe nods. He must hear that from everyone he meets.

“It had its moments,” he says quietly. Then, as if shaking off a memory, he smiles slightly. “But now I’m looking forward to a quieter life. I’m still working out what that means, but for now, it’s helping Chuck build his cabin.”

I laugh. “Well, if you need a break from all that manual labor, you know where to find the best baked goods in town.”

“I can see that,” Gabe says, his eyes roaming the display case again. “Everything looks amazing.”

As I box up his order, Gabe leans against the counter, his presence comforting and slightly unnerving. “So, Polly,” he says, “how long have you owned the bakery? Chuck said you bought the place recently.”

I feel a flush of pride as I answer. “I took over about six months ago. I worked here for five years before that, though. When Mr. Jenkins—the previous owner—decided to retire, he offered to sell it to me.” I pause, remembering the excitement and terror I felt at the prospect. “It was a big step, but it’s always been my dream to run my own bakery.”

Gabe’s eyes light up with genuine interest. “That’s incredible. It must have taken a lot of courage to make that leap.”

His words warm me from the inside out. It’s refreshing to hear someone—especially a man—express admiration for my ambition instead of trying to make me believe my dreams are too big and impossible. “It was scary,” I admit. “But I knew if I didn’t try, I’d always regret it.”

“I get that.” Gabe nods. “Sometimes the scariest choices are the ones most worth making.”

A moment of understanding passes between us, and I find myself wanting to know more about him.

But before I can ask, Gabe glances at his watch. “I should probably get that cake back to Chuck. His sister is a stickler for punctuality, and he’s heading out as soon as I deliver this.” He seems reluctant to turn away, but I know I must be imagining that. “What do I owe you for the turnovers?”

I ring up his order, our fingers brushing as he hands me the money. An electric spark zips across my skin, and from the way Gabe’s eyes widen slightly, I hope it means that he feels it too.

“Here you go,” I say, handing him the cake box and the bag with his turnovers.

Our eyes meet, and for a moment, everything else fades away. His eyes hold a question and a hint of something that makes my heart race.

“Thanks, Polly,” Gabe says softly. “I have a feeling I’ll be stopping by again soon.”

“I hope so,” I reply before I can stop myself. Heat creeps up my cheeks, but Gabe’s answering smile is worth the momentary embarrassment.

As he turns to leave, balancing the cake box carefully, I call out, “Let me know what you think of those turnovers!”

Gabe pauses at the door, looking back with a grin that makes my knees weak. “I will. Though they won’t be the only reason I come back.”

The bell chimes as he exits, leaving me alone in the suddenly quiet bakery. I lean against the counter, my heart still racing.

Sophie sidles up next to me, an amused grin on her face. “So...Chuck’s friend, huh?”

I straighten up, trying to look nonchalant. “Yes, just picking up the cake.”

“Uh-huh,” Sophie says, her grin widening. “And I’m sure the way you looked at him had nothing to do with those muscles barely contained by his t-shirt.”

“Sophie!” I exclaim, my face heating again.

She laughs, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “Come on, Polly. I thought you were going to start drooling when he smiled at you. I’ve never seen you that flustered—and we’ve had some hotties come through here for sure!”

I shake my head, trying to brush off her teasing. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s just a customer.”

“A customer you couldn’t take your eyes off,” Sophie counters. “And don’t think I didn’t notice how he looked at you, too. There were some serious sparks flying over that counter.”

“You’re imagining things,” I insist, though my entire body feels hot. “Besides, even if there was something there—which there isn’t—I don’t have time for dating. I’ve got a business to run, remember?”

Sophie’s expression softens. “I know, Polly. But that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a little flirtation now and then. You work so hard. It’s okay to let yourself feel something.”

I sigh, knowing she’s right but not quite ready to admit it. “Let’s get back to work, okay? Be gentle and give the mixer another try. Those cookies won’t bake themselves.”

As I return to my work, I can’t shake the image of Gabe’s warm eyes and genuine smile. I’ve never felt such an immediate, intense attraction before.

I take a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand. I have a business to run. I can’t afford to get distracted by a handsome face, no matter how much I might want to.

But despite my best efforts, a small part of me hopes Gabe will make good on his promise to return soon. And as I lose myself in the familiar motions of baking, I can’t help but wonder what might happen if he does.