Baker Bear Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Baker Bear

  Fate Valley Mysteries

  Scarlett Grove

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  About the Author

  Also by Scarlett Grove

  Copyright © 2018 by Scarlett Grove

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Chapter 1

  Donika Devon looked at her clock. It was already 1:30 AM. She rubbed her temples and stared back down at the paperwork on her desk. She’d lost track of time again and had stayed at the office longer than she’d planned. She’d told herself she’d go home at midnight, but the hours had slipped away. Darkness was encroaching around her vision. She put down her pen, leaning back in her chair and taking a deep breath.

  Donika had been having strange blackouts for quite some time but had yet to visit a doctor. She took another sip of coffee and continued through the papers on her desk. She was defending some very important clients for her law firm, a multibillion-dollar corporation, being investigated by the government. It was her job to get them off the hook.

  She had stacks of files to research and compile before morning and would probably be at the office all night if she wanted to get it done. As she read through the papers, she found something that made her choke on her coffee. It couldn’t be right.

  Her clients insisted they were innocent in the media. But this information proved they clearly were not. Donika folded the paper and tucked it into the inside pocket of her jacket. She stood from her desk on wobbly legs and began pacing back and forth in her office, a view of the New York City skyline sprawled outside her window. She crossed her arms over her chest and breathed heavily as she paced. She’d grown so thin in the last few years working for her firm. It seemed like there was never time to eat. When there was, she had no appetite.

  She’d lost all her lovely, soft curves and was nothing but skin and bones. Her mother would not have approved. Donika rubbed her forehead, trying to think of what she should do.

  She had defended criminals in the past, criminals she knew were guilty of terrible things. Even white-collar criminals could be despicable. But this, this, she didn't believe she could defend. It was a blatant disregard for human life for the sake of profit. She let out a deep sigh and reached for her coffee cup. When she bent over her desk to grab it, she tripped on her heels, fell to the floor, and blacked out.

  Climbing from the floor, she looked out the window at the morning light streaming over the skyscrapers. Her head pounded, and she cupped her temples. Straightening her suit jacket, she opened the door and walked down the hall to her boss’s office, with high ceilings and stark modern furnishings. She stood in front of him with her hands on her hips.

  “Can I help you, Donika?”

  “You realize that the Trans-Food Corporation is guilty of all charges, don't you?”

  “Is that a problem?” he asked.

  “How can we possibly defend the indefensible? They should be stopped immediately.”

  “This case will bring the firm five hundred million dollars if we win. It is the biggest case we’ve had in five years. I put you on it for a reason. You’re one of my best attorneys. Why are you being so reluctant now?”

  “I have ethics,” she said.

  “Your ethics have never stopped you from being an excellent lawyer in the past. What is so different now?”

  “This is the worst I've ever seen. How could you take this case knowing what they do?”

  “Because I'm not a fool. My wife and I are buying a new house on Martha's Vineyard. I’m paying cash. You know that real estate interest rates will kill you.”

  “This is all for a vacation home?” she squealed.

  “We all have our weaknesses. Your weakness seems to be that you've suddenly grown a conscience. That's not going to take you very far in this line of work, Donika,” he said.

  “I've always had a conscience,” she countered.

  “Not one that I've ever seen. If I’d thought you did, I never would've hired you in the first place.”

  “I do have a conscience,” she insisted. “I’ve always had one.”

  “If you want to keep your job, then I suggest you forget this conversation ever happened. I need that report by end of business today. You don't have a lot of time, so get back to work.”

  “They're killing people, Stanley,” she said, approaching his desk. “They know they're killing people. You can't possibly think that that's okay in the name of profit.”

  “The fact is, it's not my problem. I have a job in front of me, and I intend to do it. If I need to take you off the case and give it to David Schmidt, then I will.”

  “You need to stop this. We need to go public with what we know.”

  “Not a chance, Donika. We all signed a confidentiality agreement. The firm agreed to take this case, and we will fight for Trans-Food.”

  “You have to stop them.”

  “I don't have to do anything,” he said.

  Donika could feel her blood boiling as she clenched her fist so hard she felt her nails biting into the skin of her palms. In one blinding flash she stepped forward, and punched Mr. Shyster right in the face. She felt her knuckles connect with his nose and heard the sickening crack of breaking cartilage. Blood poured from his nose, and he screamed as he held his wounded flesh in his hand.

  “What the hell has gotten into you, Donika? You really are starting to lose it.” He pressed his finger to the intercom. “Security, I need someone up here right now.”

  “You're fired, Donika. Pack up your things and get the hell out of the office.”

  “Gladly. If you hadn’t fired me, I would've quit. I can't work for someone like you anymore.” She stormed out of his office and continued down the hall to her own.

  “This isn't the end of it, Ms. Devon,” he
called behind her. “Not by a long shot.”

  She began packing her things. Her painting from the artist that she loved. Her potted plant. Her hot pink stapler. She put all her small items into a box and took her painting down off the wall. The security guards arrived to escort her out. One of them grabbed her elbow.

  “You're lucky I don't have you arrested for this,” Mr. Shyster said as she passed him in the hall, the security guard carting her toward the door.

  “I'm not going to let this stand,” Donika said.

  “You chose a very inopportune time to grow a conscience,” Mr. Shyster said, still holding his bloody nose. “A very inopportune time.”

  The elevator doors swung closed and Donika felt her heart pumping in her chest. At that moment, she blacked out again, and fell to the floor in the middle of the elevator.

  The next thing she remembered, she was sitting outside her office building with her plant, her painting, and her box full of office supplies. She had no memory of what had just happened. She blinked several times, trying to get her bearings. She looked down at her phone and saw a message from one of her coworkers.

  “What happened?” it read.

  She looked at her box and her plant as she sat on the cold pavement of the stairs outside the high-rise. There was only one explanation for what had happened. Her knuckles hurt, and she examined them. There was a spot of blood. She vaguely remembered hitting her boss, but that was the only memory she had of the last twelve hours. What was going on? She quickly typed out a message to her coworker.

  “I was probably fired,” she typed.

  “You think?” came back the message. “Everyone's talking about it. You fucked up royally.”

  Donika clicked off her phone and stood from the stairs, picking up her things. She trotted down to the sidewalk and tried to hail a cab. She needed a good night’s sleep, and maybe then things would start to make sense.

  These blackouts were getting worse. She'd never had one so bad. She told herself that she would go to the doctor this time. A taxi stopped, and she climbed inside, throwing all her things in before her. She had just gotten fired from a job she had worked her entire life to get. But she couldn't remember why.

  Chapter 2

  Grayson Baxter poured his dry ingredients into a mixing bowl and then prepared the wet ones in a separate bowl to the side. He slowly added the cream and water to the flour and sugar mixture. As he turned on his dough hook to mix the ingredients together, he added eggs and watched as his cinnamon roll dough mixed to perfection.

  He turned off the mixer and removed the dough hook, pulling the dough out onto his floured mixing board. With deft, practiced hands, he rolled out the dough. He spread a thick layer of sweet butter over the entire square of dough and sprinkled on the cinnamon, sugar, and spices, before rolling the entire thing into a tightly coiled log.

  He carefully sliced sections all the way down the log, placing them into the baking pans. The smell of cinnamon, sugar, and butter filled the air. It was the most pleasant scent that he knew. It’s what got him up early every morning. He came down to his bakery and prepared his sweet and wholesome treats for the people of Fate Valley.

  He popped the cinnamon roll pans into the oven and let out a satisfied sigh. This was his favorite time of day, when the bakery was still quiet, and he worked alone in the kitchen. He listened to his favorite classic rock music on the radio and did the meditative work of baking his famous pastries.

  Since Grayson had returned from his military service, he had settled down in Fate Valley to open his café and bakery with his shifter veteran’s benefits. Because some of the guys he'd served with during his military service lived in Fate Valley, and spoke of how great it was for families, he had decided to settle down there.

  He’d found the bakery in disrepair and had worked with his friends to bring the building up to code. It had been an excellent buy. They’d worked diligently for months to renovate the kitchen and the dining room.

  In the beginning, the café had been a one-man show. He’d done all the baking and made all the coffee himself. After several years of continued success and the growing reputation of his pastries, he had been able to take on several employees. His baristas and cashiers came in later in the day. The baking was still something that he did on his own, but he was training his oldest assistant, Kitty, to take over. He enjoyed the work immensely. Although he still worked seven days a week, he didn't mind. On Saturdays and Sundays, he left the shop by 7 AM and took the rest of the day off.

  With the cinnamon rolls filling the café with their spicy aromatic scent, he went about making his famous Fate Valley blueberry scones. He used lemon zest and just the tiniest bit of cream of tartar to give it the extra zing that people enjoyed so much.

  He mixed the ingredients in the mixer and blended in the blueberries by hand. He poured his dough onto the counter and formed the little triangles for scones, placing them on to the baking sheets. He popped them in a second oven at a lower temperature.

  When the cinnamon rolls were done, he brought them out and slid the pans into a cooling rack. He prepared the cream cheese and butter frosting. The timer for the bagels and baguettes dinged, so he put them on the cooling racks under the cinnamon rolls.

  “Good morning, Grayson,” said his assistant Kitty from the kitchen doorway.

  Grayson looked up and smiled. Kitty had been working for him for two years now. She had been a good and loyal employee.

  “I'm almost done with the baking for today, Kitty,” he said. “How are you this morning?”

  “I'm doing well,” she said. “Little Tyler is home with his dad today with a cold.”

  “I'm sorry to hear that.”

  “It's his dad’s day off work so it's all right.”

  “Well, if there's anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

  Kitty had been pregnant with her baby Tyler while she worked for Grayson. He’d been more than happy to help her come back to work after she'd spent several months out of the job. He knew that their family depended on her income.

  He did his best to help his employees with health insurance. The people that worked for him were like family. Even though Grayson wasn't a rich man, his company was doing well. A big part of that was the people who worked for him.

  Grayson had been able to buy himself a little house by the lake. It was right near a vast stretch of deep woods, perfect for his bear to roam free. He’d fixed up the house in preparation for his life with his mate. He wanted to start a family of his own more than anything.

  Kitty went out to the front of the café, turned on all the lights, and flipped the open sign in the window. She returned to the cash register and prepared the change drawer for the day. She then made a pot of coffee and started up the espresso machine.

  Several moments later, after the coffee had brewed, the front door of the café opened for the first customers of the day.

  His old buddy Harrison Cole, the firefighter, walked through the front door, as he did every morning. Having finished most of his baking tasks, Grayson poured himself a cup of Kitty's freshly brewed coffee and greeted Harrison when he approached the counter.

  “Good morning, Harrison, can I get your usual?” Kitty asked.

  “Yes, thank you, Kitty.”

  She poured his black coffee and grabbed him a bagel with cream cheese and sprouts as he paid for his meal. Harrison sat down at his table. When Kitty was finished preparing the bagel, Grayson offered to take it to Harrison. She thanked him as she continued preparing the front of the house for the day. Grayson carried the bagel out to Harrison's table and sat across from him in the dining room.

  “How is married life treating you?” Grayson asked.

  Harrison and his bride Sunshine had been married for a few months, and Grayson couldn’t be happier for them.

  “It's been wonderful. Sunshine has already found a lot of new business. I bet she could redesign your website too,” Harrison said.

  “My websit
e is a single blog page.”

  “That's exactly what I mean,” Harrison said, sipping his coffee with a chuckle.

  “Your mate sure is a smart one,” Grayson said. “I wish I had a lady like that in my life.”

  “You'll find your mate soon, Grayson,” Harrison said.

  “I've been on Mate.com for five years. Ever since I returned from my service.”

  “Some people wait even longer. You just have to have faith that fate will work its hands on you.”

  “I have faith in the fates,” Grayson said with a grumble.

  “But…?” Harrison chuckled.

  “It's just so hard to wait.”

  “Well, just think of all of our friends who have found their mates recently. Liam thought he'd never find his mate, but he found Layla in time for Christmas. Now they're engaged and preparing for a wedding in the spring. And the new guy Thorian. He just came to town, and he already found his mate.”

  “Cici sure is a pretty girl,” Grayson said. “She comes into the café all the time. I love her spirit and her smile.”

  “Cici, Layla, and Stephany are great friends with Sunshine now,” Harrison said.

  “Those girls are all something else,” Grayson said. “But I know that Stephanie isn’t my mate.”

  He looked down at his coffee cup. He'd known Stephanie, the lioness shifter, for quite some time. She was still searching for her mate on Mate.com too. But they both knew that it wasn’t each other. They were an 85% match, and that just wasn't a fated mate.

  “Stephanie will find her match, eventually,” Harrison said. “And so will you. Just try to be patient and not lose hope. Shifters who lose faith in fate just become miserable. Look at Benjamin—he found Samantha on Valentine’s Day. He’d been on Mate.com for seven years. Longer than you, even.”