Sugar Rush. Elaine Overton

She smiled and winked at Eliot. “And of course, get to know our newest addition.”

      Sophie repositioned herself on her crutches and headed toward the back, the small group following patiently behind her, each giving her reports of what had happened in her absence. Soon Eliot was left alone.

      Slowly, Eliot turned and followed the group as he replayed that smile and wink, and the possible implications of what she’d meant by getting to know him. He smiled to himself. This day was getting more interesting by the minute.

      Chapter 5

      Wow. As she settled into her desk chair, and placed her crutches against the wall, Sophie released a pent-up breath. Wow. Her new baker had completely lived up to the sexy voice she’d heard on the phone that morning.

      She tried to focus on the conversation around her as Lonnie and Dante filled her in on every moment she’d missed. Her grandmother had said something about being hungry and left the room already. Wayne was standing in the door, half watching her and half watching someone in the kitchen; she could only assume he was spying on El. Wayne had made his feelings about the man perfectly clear, although she’d already decided to take his assessment with a grain of salt. After all, Wayne had a lot of alpha dog in him, and the thought of another grown man in what he considered his kitchen would have never sat well. Which was part of why she hadn’t warned him ahead of time.

      Despite his bias, he’d been dead on regarding appearance. Despite the dirt and dust, El did look like he’d stepped out of the pages of GQ magazine like Wayne said, and although she thoroughly enjoyed the whole package, the pieces didn’t completely make sense.

      For instance, she expected him to be arrogant and a bit of a prima donna. After all, he was one of the breed of chefs that considered themselves more artist than cook. Many of his type managed large staffs, as he probably did in his previous employment. So self-assuredness was expected, although this man radiated authority.

      He looked as if he should be sitting at the head of a corporate board, not tossing dough in someone’s kitchen. And he dressed like it, as well. What the hell was up with the business suit and slacks, she wondered. Maybe at Catalan’s—the restaurant he’d last worked in—he’d been in a strictly supervisory position. That would explain his unpreparedness for labor. But, thankfully, he didn’t seem to have a problem with hard work.

      Then there was that sexy way he looked at her. Spending so much time in the bakery, Sophie rarely had time to date. But some things you never forgot. Like that flirty look he’d given her. And like the sex-starved woman she was, she’d reacted from the gut, instantly flirting back.

      Then there was the smallest, yet oddest thing about him. His name. Elberto? She was almost certain the résumé had read Alberto Montagana. But, a one-letter difference could simply be a typo, she thought. Either way, he didn’t look like either an Elberto or an Alberto. Strangely enough, “El” fit him. And she found herself eager to be rid of Dante and Lonnie, so she could talk to him…and in private.

      Lonnie was giggling and smiling at Dante, as he accused her of being the reason it took them so long to clean up the back room.

      The bell at the front of the store rang, announcing a walk-in customer. “I’ll get it,” Wayne announced. He gave Sophie an I-told-you-so look and headed to the front of the store.

      “No, it was your fault!” Lonnie laughed loudly, her attention still completely focused on Dante. “You kept playing around, throwing that box of packing peanuts at me.”

      “What packing peanuts?” Sophie asked.

      “We found a big box almost filled to the top,” Dante answered, stealing glances at Lonnie. “Looks like it was used to ship something here.”

      Sophie shrugged off the issue, discreetly watching the interaction between the pair. Wayne maybe on to something, she thought, because surprisingly Dante definitely looked infatuated with Lonnie, and Lonnie looked just as interested in Dante. Could it be the girl was sending signals she was not aware of? Maybe she would have to talk to Dante. She thought he understood that despite their being the same age and physical development, Lonnie’s mental development was not where his was. Maybe she’d have to remind him.

      She reached into her purse and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, handing it off to Dante. “My doctor called in a prescription for a wheelchair. Can you go pick it up for me? Here’s the address.”

      “Sure,” he said, pocketing the paper. “Wanna come?” he asked Lonnie.

      “Okay.” With a wave, she followed him out of the store. “See ya, Sophie.”

      Sophie frowned, watching the pair leave. They were too close. How had she not seen the relationship growing? But she hadn’t. Not until Wayne mentioned it. But, truth be told, she didn’t pay much attention to Lonnie—not nearly as much as she should, she thought guiltily.

      Lonnie had been a victim of circumstance almost from the moment she’d been conceived. She was the daughter of Mae’s firstborn, Sharyn, who’d been into one thing or another since her teen years, according to family gossip.

      Sophie didn’t know her mother’s older sister very well, because she’d been banned from their home most of Sophie’s life. But when Sharyn came up pregnant at the age of forty-one, everyone in the family was concerned, given her track record. And eventually, the concern was proven valid when Lonnie had been diagnosed with Down syndrome.

      When Lonnie was born, Sharyn apparently did try to be a good mother for a while, but soon the responsibility of caring for a mentally challenged child became too much for her. Somehow—no one really remembered—Lonnie ended up in the collective hands of the family, eventually landing at the door of her grandmother, with whom she’d lived the past six years.

      As far back as Sophie could remember, Lonnie had tagged after her like a little sister, desperate for attention and approval. And, although no one ever said it, Sophie did feel a certain responsibility for the girl.

      Mae reappeared in the door with a plate laden with so much food Sophie’s eyes widened in concern. “Grandma! What am I suppose to do with all that food?”

      Mae gave a look that seemed to question Sophie’s sanity. “What anybody would do. Eat it.”

      Sophie shook her head. “I will never understand why you and Granddad opened a bakery instead of a restaurant. The way you like to cook…”

      Mae’s age-worn face took on a softer look as she remembered her long-dead husband. “That bakery was your granddaddy’s idea—and it wasn’t his first, let me tell you! We tried a laundry service at one time, and we even tried a grocer’s store. None of it ever amounted to much.” She chuckled to herself. Sophie listened patiently with a smile, thinking of the man she had only the vaguest memories of. She’d heard all the stories of her grandparents’ failed business ventures a dozen times. Sophie also knew it was part of what kept her parents, aunts and uncles from stepping in to help when the bakery started going under.

      “Your granddaddy never had much of a head for business, but he had ideas and more ideas!” She looked at Sophie with a playful grin. “And I loved him so much, he could’ve wanted to sell sand in a desert and I would’ve been right there beside him.”

      She reached out and touched her granddaughter’s face. “You remind me so much of him, always with ideas.” She bent and placed a quick kiss on her forehead. “Now you just have to find a man you can sell sand to.” With a chuckle, she turned and walked out, wiping her hands on her apron, the habit of a lifetime.

      And for the first time since she’d limped into the front door, Sophie found herself completely alone with her thoughts. Once again they wandered back to her handsome new baker.

      With his copper golden skin and eyes that matched, he could’ve been the love child of Apollo, the sun god. He wore his hair in short locks, which were an unusual sandy brown. With his skin tone the color was likely natural. El did not look like the hair-dye kind of brother.

      He