Cake (Bitterroot Saga Book 1) Read online




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  Table of Contents

  Books in the Series

  Cake

  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

  About Jove Belle

  Other Books from Ylva Publishing

  Never-Tied Nora

  Just Physical

  Coming from Ylva Publishing

  Bitterroot Queen

  Nights of Silk and Sapphire

  Books in the Series

  Bitterroot Saga

  Cake (Book #1)

  Bitterroot Queen (Book #2)

  Coming Fall 2016

  Cake

  by Jove Belle

  CHAPTER 1

  Kelly sipped her coffee. She was on her second cup, and if her brother, David, didn’t arrive soon, she was going to take off. She’d left her employees in the middle of prep for three separate orders to meet with him, and she grew more anxious with each minute she was away. If it wasn’t so unusual for David to call her up in the middle of the week and invite her to meet, she would have said no. The ten-year difference in their ages meant they were more like polite acquaintances than siblings.

  “Another refill?” The waitress gave her a flirty little smile, something she’d been doing more and more lately. If it continued, Kelly might ask her out.

  Kelly tipped her mug and checked the level of her coffee. She was down to the dregs at the bottom, but it was a strong brew. If she indulged in another cup, she’d be all jittery at work for the rest of the day. She shook her head. “Maybe just a glass of water?”

  A moment later, David burst through the door. His tie was askew, and he straightened it as he scanned the diner for her. She raised her hand in an almost-wave to get his attention. He nodded perfunctorily and made his way to her table.

  “Hi,” David said as he slid into the seat opposite her. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “You’re just in time. I was about to leave.”

  David was a mystery to Kelly. At forty-two, he had a well-established career selling insurance with their father at Miller and Son, but otherwise acted like he was still in his twenties. He lived in the studio apartment above their parents’ garage, rode a bike everywhere instead of driving a car, and their mom still did his laundry.

  “Thanks for waiting. Really.” David signaled the waitress for a cup of coffee.

  “Sure. What’s going on?” Kelly scratched at the chipped finish of the tabletop. “You said you have news.”

  “Yeah, right.” David nodded with an exaggerated swooping dip of his head. “I met someone.”

  “Oh-kay.” Kelly drew the word out. David dated a lot, so this didn’t really qualify as news. For a guy who didn’t fold his own underwear, he managed to pick up some beautiful women. “Is that the only reason you called me?”

  “Nope,” David said with a popping P sound at the end that made Kelly want to pop him.

  “David, I have work…”

  David’s chest puffed up and he wiggled in his seat like an excited puppy. “I’m getting married.”

  Kelly stared at him and waited. Clearly, this was a joke. After several moments of him staring back at her expectantly, she took a deep breath and said, “Huh?” It wasn’t her best comeback, but married? Seriously?

  “I’m. Getting. Married.” He stared at her expectantly.

  “I don’t understand.” Obviously, she knew what he meant. She just didn’t think he really meant it. The last time she talked with him, he wasn’t even dating seriously, never mind getting married seriously. “You’re doing what?”

  “Kelly.” David shook his head, still smiling like a lunatic. “You’ve done lots of cakes. You know what I’m talking about.”

  Kelly blinked. “Yes, I have.” She spoke slowly, with a carefully neutral tone as she tried to figure out what the hell game he was playing. “Congratulations?”

  The waitress brought David’s coffee and refilled Kelly’s water, and Kelly decided to leave her a huge tip because the timing gave her a chance to regroup. Even though she thought David was insane—like a candidate for committal to an asylum—she needed to muster up some enthusiasm for his news. She smiled and nodded to encourage him to continue, but she felt lukewarm at best.

  “Her name is Brianna, but she goes by Bree for short. She’s twenty-eight and she’s a dancer.”

  “A dancer?” Kelly purposely avoided her age. Brianna was fourteen years younger than David. With anyone else, Kelly might worry about what he saw in her. With David, though, she was more concerned about him being too immature rather than the other way around.

  “Yes, she toured with the Russian Ballet and everything.”

  Kelly looked at him, her lukewarmth turning to cold skepticism. David continued, unperturbed.

  “She injured her knee a few years ago, and now she teaches. It’s adorable. She’s really tall and her students surround her like little, fluffy, pink ducklings.”

  “Ducklings?” Nothing about this made sense. The conversation had started out absurd and was deteriorating rapidly.

  “Yeah, that’s how we met, actually. Feeding the ducks.”

  “You were feeding ducks?”

  “No. Of course I wasn’t.” David looked at her like she was nuts. “Bree was feeding them. I was on one of those long rides that I take, you know? On the return trip, I detoured through her town for food and just to look around because that’s the whole point of those rides, to see something new. Anyway, I saw her and just had to stop and say hello. She’s beautiful, Kelly. Really beautiful.” David’s voice adopted a softness that she’d never heard from him before, and she began to think this whole getting married thing was more than a prank.

  She decided to play along. “So, when’s the big day?”

  “In three weeks at Saint Vincent’s.”

  Kelly spluttered. She’d taken a sip of water just as David answered, and things involving cold liquid and her windpipe went haywire. “Three weeks?” Apparently, this duck-feeding-turned-true-love was for real. “Seriously?”

  “As a heart attack. She’s the one, Kel.”

  “Have you told Mom and Dad?” Kelly used her parents as a barometer for all things David related. He only told them about the goings-on in his life when he needed money. Or when something was really, really important. As far as she knew, he hadn’t taken a girlfriend home to meet them since his senior year in college.

  “I’m meeting them for lunch. I want to bring her for dinner this Sunday. Can you make it?”

  Kelly nodded slowly. David had officially caught her off-guard, and she was a bit dazed with his news. She mentally reviewed her schedule. She had orders for Monday that she’d start prepping this weekend, but she could easily fit in a meal.

  “There’s one other thing.” David started to shred his napkin, tearing it apart in strips until all that remained was a clump of crumpled confetti. He looked at her hopefully. “Will you make the cake?”

  Ah, there it was. The reason David so urgently needed to see her was wedding cake, not a desire to bond with his sister. He was talking to her because neither of their parents was a baker. Still, she smiled and said the only thing she could. “I’d love to.”

  * * *

  Elana shut down her laptop and slipped it into her messenger bag. Her good deed for the week was done and she couldn’t wait to return to her r
egularly scheduled life. Only sixteen more weeks of this bullshit left to go.

  “Umm…” One of her students, a Latina with gorgeous long dark hair that made Elana wish she hadn’t cut hers a few weeks ago, fidgeted nervously next to her desk. Another woman waited a few steps away.

  “Yes?” Elana arched her eyebrow. She’d done her time and now she wanted to get the hell out of here. Chatting with the locals was not a part of the deal.

  The woman shifted her weight and glanced over her shoulder at her friend. Or maybe girlfriend? Whatever. After a moment, the woman sucked in a breath and got to the point. “You said you’re a life coach, right?”

  Elana stopped fussing with the bag and focused on the conversation. Inmate 4723891, according to the label stitched to the woman’s shirt. Somewhere along the line, she’d done something that landed her here. At that point, she’d stopped being a person and became a number. “What’s your name?”

  The woman smiled politely, but it was more a reflection of happy rather than the actual emotion. Elana decided then that she liked her. She’d felt like that, as if she’d forgotten how to make her emotions fit her expression, too many times in the past year. It was something they shared in common.

  “Liz.” She blew her bangs out of her eyes and huffed out an almost-sigh. “Am I right? Life coach?”

  “Inmate.” Karin, the guard responsible for escorting Elana to and from the lobby, stood just inside the open door. She folded her arms over her chest. “Time to wrap it up. You don’t need to waste this woman’s time.”

  Karin spoke in the modulated, emotionless voice that all the guards seemed to use, and Elana wondered if they taught that in guard school. If guard school was even a thing. Objectively, Karin was attractive, with tightly clipped hair, strong shoulders, and just the right amount of curve to her waist and hips. And they were definitely on the same team, so to speak. Any other time, Elana would have made a play for her. Hell, pre-Bree she would have laid odds on how quickly she could usher her into bed and how many fingers it would take to make her come.

  Recently, though, since Bree left, all she had room for was the persistent ache in the middle of her chest. It was obnoxious, really, how much she let Bree dump her life on its head. She needed to pull herself together and get the hell over it already.

  Yeah, right.

  “I’m just asking a question.” Liz didn’t sound petulant, exactly, but there was a defiant edge to her tone. She stared at Elana, almost as if she was daring Elana to stand up to Karin.

  Elana’s mouth curled into a half-smile without her meaning it to. Yep, she definitely liked Liz. To show that she wasn’t in a hurry, she set her messenger bag on the floor and leaned one hip against the desk. “Yes, I’m a life coach.” That was the most basic description of what she did, but it worked for this conversation. She tucked a loose strand from her bangs behind her ear where it belongs. “Why do you ask?”

  Karin made a dissatisfied noise, but didn’t interrupt.

  Liz glanced at her friend again, who nodded encouragingly and smiled like a besotted fool. Christ, talk about a women-in-prison movie fantasy. Two attractive young woman meet behind bars and fall in love. Elana wondered how long that love would last when one of them got paroled.

  “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “What? Life coach?” Sure, Elana had to explain her job to people—like at every single family gathering when her Tia Midi said “I just don’t understand” for the twentieth time—but Liz had such an earnest expression on her face. Elana wanted to make sure she answered properly.

  “Yeah, life coach. They don’t have those where I grew up.”

  “Are you sure?” Elana wasn’t surprised that Liz hadn’t heard the title “life coach” before. “You didn’t have anyone in your neighborhood who everyone else looked to for advice?”

  “Oh, you mean Señora Mendoza? She kept a pig, two goats, and a flock of chickens on the roof of our building. Some city guy told her she had to get rid of them, so she butchered them all one day, and the super let her put all the meat in a giant freezer in the basement that some meth dealer left behind when she evicted him. You mean like that?”

  Elana blinked. She had no idea where to even start with that answer. “Sure, I’m like Mrs. Mendoza. Only without the livestock.”

  Liz nodded. “After the guy from the city came by to do his final inspection, she got new goats and chickens. No more pigs, though.”

  Karin snorted.

  “Why are you asking, Liz?” Somewhere around freezer, Elana’s interest in the conversation wavered. Now she wished she’d taken the out when Karin had offered it.

  “Can you do that? For me, I mean?” Liz blurted out the words and, judging by the look on her face, wished she could pull them back in.

  “Do what?”

  “Coach me. I have plans. You know, for when I get out.” Liz smiled again, and this time the effect was dazzling. She reached for her friend’s hand. “We—Charlie and I—we have plans.”

  Elana waited. There had to be more information. When Liz didn’t offer any further clarification, Elana cleared her throat and said, “Umm, I don’t know if that’s allowed.”

  She had sixteen hours of community service left to complete over the next sixteen weeks, but she doubted the judge would approve private coaching as a way to pay off her debt to society. As it was, she alternated groups of inmates and wouldn’t see Liz for another two weeks.

  “Oh.” Liz’s shoulders slumped. “Okay, well, thanks.” She turned to leave.

  “But I can,” Elana said before she thought better of it, “tailor our group lessons to focus on life after Bitterroot.”

  “Yeah?” Liz looked hopeful again. “You can do that?”

  “Sure. And I’ll ask the warden if I can use a portion of my time to address individual questions.”

  Okay, so that deviated from what the judge instructed her to do, but the look on Liz’s face reminded Elana of her baby sister. She’d never been able to tell her “no” either.

  “Okay, that’s enough. Time for you two to let Ms. Verdad go.” Karin spoke in such a way that even Elana, who wasn’t in tune with the moods and tones of the guards, knew not to argue this time.

  “Right, thanks,” the friend, Charlie, said. She guided Liz out of the room, still holding her hand.

  “You ready?” Karin asked Elana.

  Elana picked up her bag. “As I’ll ever be.”

  She followed Karin through the hall and tried to admire the line of Karin’s body and her tight controlled movements, but her heart wasn’t in it. Finally, Elana gave up trying to find her inner perv and opted for almost-polite conversation instead. “So, you come here often?”

  Yeah, it was a bad joke, but Karin laughed. “Ten hours a day, four days a week.”

  After that, Elana had no idea what to say. God, she used to be good at this, chatting up women. Fucking self-confidence. There had to be some way to get it back. The possibility that Bree had ruined her forever was too much to even consider.

  When they were almost to the checkout point, Karin asked, “Big plans for the weekend?”

  “Sorta.” It was exactly the subject she’d been trying to avoid thinking about. “My ex is getting married.”

  “Oh? Is that a good thing?”

  “I’m sure she thinks it is.” Elana didn’t mention the groom, David. She didn’t feel like explaining that much.

  “Sorry.” Karin smiled sympathetically and held the door open. “See you next week?”

  “Right.” Elana let the door fall shut behind her and made her way through the parking lot to the bus stop. Big weekend plans, indeed.

  CHAPTER 2

  The ambient noise that filled the air at Ball Crusher used to be comforting to Elana. It was an auditory reminder that she was in her place. Lately, though, post-Bree, the subtle noise of people playing pool mixed with the music and laughter coming from the makeshift dance floor only made her feel glaringly alone and naked in a crowd of
people who were coupled up.

  She needed to figure out where all the single lesbians hung out. How had she managed to lose track of vital information like that?

  She sighed and signaled for another beer.

  “That bad, huh?” The cute dyke on the barstool next to hers raised her pint in a symbolic toast. “I’ve been there.”

  Elana evaluated the woman. She was a few years younger, with sexy, long dark hair that curled loosely at the ends, and when she smiled, it revealed a slight gap between her front teeth. Elana wasn’t sure how sexy the woman would be tomorrow, without the benefit of several beers and a pep-talk worthy of an after-school special, but she returned her smile anyway.

  “I’m Elana.” She offered her hand just as the bartender brought her drink. “Can I get you another?”

  “I’m Carla, by the way.” As the woman shook her hand, she also shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. Another time, perhaps. I’m meeting a friend tonight.”

  Of fucking course she was.

  “I understand.” Truthfully, Elana was meeting someone else, too, but she didn’t think Reagan, her best friend, would mind being ditched in favor of a hot chick who might be able to wake up her girlie parts.

  Elana paid for her drink and, with a tilt of her head toward Carla, headed back to her table to wait for Reagan. There was no point in hanging at the bar if Carla’s answer was no. She wasn’t interested in making a new friend.

  “Who was that?” Reagan met her halfway and pulled her into a brief, sideways hug.

  Elana glanced over her shoulder to find Carla watching her closely. She shook her head. “Nobody.”

  Reagan laughed. “There was a time when nobody was enough.”

  “Yes.” Elana led Reagan to their table. Situated in the corner with a good view of both the entrance and the pool tables, their booth was large enough to seat four. Elana slid into one side with Reagan opposite her. She didn’t explain how nobody would ever be enough again. Reagan had heard it all before, and Elana wasn’t in the mood to be comforted.

  Reagan stole a sip of Elana’s beer and casually asked, “What’s on your agenda for this weekend?”