Heavenly Delights opened three years ago, manned by the hunky baker Dakota Webb. The very man who’s managed to snag the affections of postman Scott Marsh. He stops by the bakery every morning, hoping one day he might get up the nerve to express his feelings, especially with his birthday coming.
But Dakota has other things on his mind, like trying to come up with the perfect wedding cake for a woman known to be picky and bitter. Unfortunately, when things don’t work out quite as he hoped, Scott begins to fear Dakota will once again hit the road.
So he makes one final wish for his birthday ...
At the rear of his vehicle he popped open the hatch. Normally he let Ren make the deliveries, and that was the original plan for today as well, especially since he wanted to work on a few pies.?But after the conversation with Scott he thought it best to bring the cake himself; it was the sort of thing Mrs. Norton would expect.?The box bearing the logo of Heavenly Delights -- a cupcake with sprinkle covered angel wings -- sat squarely in the?back,?secured.?
He slid it toward him, hefting it,?maintaining a gentle touch. As Dakota approached the door a worry crept in; how was he going to announce his arrival when his hands were full? Resting the box on the?ground seemed a poorly decision and the idea of?tying to hold it mostly?in one hand nestled against his body straight up frightened him. There was absolutely no time for another cake. This was it.?
Turned out Dakota need not worry at all, the door whooshing?open as soon as he stepped on the porch. The butler, for what else was the man in the crisp tux with white gloves supposed to be, eyed him without expression, simply stepping aside to allow Dakota entrance into the house.?Dakota offered a polite smile, stepping into the immaculate foyer.?He could have parked his SUV in the space between the front door and the sweeping staircase.?Everywhere Dakota looked there was something else that screamed look at me, look at my money,?I'm?important.?From fancy throw rugs to paintings no doubt done by the hands of greats. It was, in his opinion, over the top.
But to each their own, he figured.
"Where," he started to ask where he should head when the butler cut him off.?
"Right this way. The missus wants the cake in the kitchen."?
Dakota fell into step behind the nameless, emotionless robot-like?man. They passed?along the stairs, following the stone-tiled floor toward the back of the house. Dakota peered into the first room, spying a baby grand piano, what appeared to be an antique grandfather clock, and yet another large painting hanging above a fireplace he could roast a pig in.?He resisted checking the other two rooms, saving it all for the kitchen.?
Which was huge, no?shocker?there,? and with the towering box in hand he executed an eye roll. Opulence, it was lost on him.?Having enough money to be comfortable and not have to worry about emergencies cropping up, that was all he ever asked for.?
And perhaps, thinking back over his earlier ponderings, perhaps someone to share it with.
Dakota experienced a familiar twinge in his chest. Quickly as lightning he banished any notion of love from his mind. Now was a time for focusing, not wallowing.?
"You may set it here."?
Dakota did as instructed, leaving the box on a?granite-topped island.?
"I will fetch the missus. Please wait here."?
And away he?butled.?
Dakota swallowed, suddenly wishing for a tall glass of ice cold water. His heart fluttered, his stomach twisting in knots. When he got up that morning everything was fine, his mood chipper, upbeat, and then Scott came along. Sure, the post man probably meant well, but?all he managed to accomplish was setting Dakota's nerves on end.?If this all fell apart ... Dakota eyed the box, second guessing his?choices, wondering if he should have stuck with the original. That one, of course, was back at the bakery with his assistant, neatly sliced and ready for customers.