Muffins & Moonbeams Read online

  Ursula’s breath caught in her lungs. No baker should look that good. Shouldn’t bakers be chubby and grandfatherly rather than broad-shouldered hunks with just the right amount of scruff on their chin to make a woman’s mouth water?

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Great. Hi. Sorry.” Heat flooded her face as Ursula stepped closer to the counter. “My mind wanders.”

  The corners of his mouth poked up. “I have that problem sometimes too. First time here?”

  She nodded and scanned the display case. They definitely leaned toward bread—which was what the man who’d emailed told her—but bakery conjured images of donuts and cookies and cakes. None of which were in evidence. “I’m Ursula Franks. You just hired me to do your website?”

  “Sure. Hi. I’m Malachi. We emailed briefly yesterday.” He leaned his arms on the case. “What can I get you?”

  “Maybe a loaf of the asiago?”

  His smile did crazy things to her belly. “Sure thing. That’s one of our best sellers.”

  As he turned to get a bag and tongs, Ursula scanned the other offerings in the case. “You make all of this on site? By yourself?”

  Malachi turned back, reached into the case, and slipped the bread into a bag. “Anything else?”

  Her eyebrows lifted. Rude or...? “You made this?”

  “Me?” He laughed, shaking his head. “No. My brothers are the bakers. I do the books and the dishes. You want to talk to them? They ran out to help my sister, but they should be back soon.”

  She considered. It might be nice to meet the actual bakers, get a feel for them and the business. But like she’d told MalRen last night online, she didn’t need that face-to-face connection in order to do a good job on a website. That said...she wouldn’t necessarily mind getting to know this brother a little. Even if nothing could come from it. “Tell you what. Would you mind if I ran down to Benita’s and got some cheese and brought it back? I was going to make a lunch out of it at the park, but I could hang out and wait if you’d join me?”

  He gave a little shrug. “Sure. I can slice this for you.”

  “Nah. I’ll just rip off chunks.” He made a valiant effort to control the wince, but she still saw it. Ah well. She handed him a ten, took her change, and glanced at the table in the corner, then back to him. “Okay if I leave it here?”

  He nodded.

  “Be right back.” Ursula tossed the bread onto the table and pushed through the door back into the heat, away from the tantalizing aroma of bread. Benita’s was just two shops down. A completely different mixture of smells—spices and vegetables, mostly—met her inside. The tiny refrigerated space had a decent selection of fancy cheese and, after a quick eenie meenie miney moe, she selected sharp white cheddar from Ireland. Since the Italian soda was right there at the checkout, she grabbed two bottles of the lemon flavor and added them to her order. If she was going to have a picnic, she might as well do it right.

  Malachi looked up from behind the counter when she came back to the bakery. She lifted the cheese and sodas. “Hope you like cheddar.”

  “Can I get you a knife for the cheese?”

  She laughed. “Fine. Yes, a knife would be grand.”

  He flashed a smile and came out from behind the counter. The broad shoulders hadn’t been a lie. The man clearly worked out. Or he was genetically gifted. Or she needed to get out more. Her mother, certainly, would opt for the latter. “My brothers texted. They’re on the way back.”

  Ursula sat in one of the wrought iron chairs and sniffed the bread before tearing off a hunk. She pushed one of the Italian sodas across the table. “That’s for you.”

  “You didn’t...”

  “I know. But I did. Unless you don’t like lemon?”

  He twisted the cap and took a sip, his eyes lighting up. “This is good.”

  “So’s this.” She tapped the bread. “I see why you need a website. People need to know you’re here.”

  Bells on the door jangled and a bright light flashed behind the counter as two men and a woman entered the bakery. The men bore a striking resemblance to Malachi, which meant genetically gifted was definitely the answer to her previous question. He stood and gestured for them to come over. “Ursula, these are my brothers, Jonah and Micah, my sister Ruth. She runs the Fairview B&B.”

  Ursula held up a finger and chewed fast, swallowing the lump of bread before she should have. She took a fast swig of soda and stood, wiping her hand on her shorts. “Sorry about that. It’s so nice to meet you.”

  “I saw you fixed that issue with the calendar for the B&B this morning. Thanks. It was making me a little crazy.” Ruth grinned and pulled a chair over from the second small table. “Is that the asiago? It’s one of my favorites.”

  “It is. It’s amazing. Malachi says you two are the bakers?” Ursula glanced at Jonah and Micah, who nodded. Malachi eased away from the group, the soda in his hand. Their gazes locked and he lifted it in a salute before drifting through the door behind the counter. She frowned. Why would he just leave like that? Jonah was talking. She dragged her attention back to the man and listened as he went on about the benefits of using local wheat and community-supported bakeries in general. Some of it, at least, would work for copy on the site. The man had passion, she had to give him that.

  * * *

  Ursula sorted through the items in her character’s backpack and checked the player log again. Where was MalRen? She’d logged on and set a notification for him as soon as she’d gotten home from lunch. She’d still managed to get a decent start on the bakery website and take care of a few more urgent issues for existing clients, but her mind hadn’t been on the work. Instead, she’d been replaying the brief interaction with Malachi Baxter. He was good-looking but not much of a conversationalist. Except...it felt like he could be. Like he was holding back. And she’d know. She did the same thing.

  Ruth had been friendly. Ursula yearned to reach out and see if they could develop a friendship. Except...she shook her head. There was no point. They might manage a friendship for a little while, but ultimately, if history was any indication, at some point she’d do something without realizing it and everything would explode, leaving her picking up the tattered pieces of her psyche for months. Better for all concerned to be polite and professional and leave it at that. She wasn’t cut out to have friends.

  She reached for her cell as it started to ring. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Happy Thursday.”

  Ursula chuckled. “I didn’t realize Thursdays were something to celebrate.”

  “Every day you’re alive is something to celebrate. You know that.”

  She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Mom would know. She always did. “So what are you celebrating today?”

  “Other than the fact that I have an amazingly talented daughter who fills my heart with joy?”

  Ursula scoffed. “I reword my question: what do you need me to do?”

  “So cynical. I never have figured out where you got that. Must be your father. I didn’t want anything other than to hear your voice and check in. I’m still not sure why you live in Idaho when there are perfectly good houses to never leave right here in South Carolina.”

  “You’re a laugh riot, Mom. I went for a walk at lunch today to check out the bakery that hired me to do their website.” Her stomach grumbled and she pushed back from the computer and padded into the kitchen to cut another slice off the rapidly diminishing loaf of bread. “You should come visit and we could walk over together.”

  “Now who’s the comedian? You know I don’t fly. And I’m certainly not breaking that rule simply to taste bread. It might shock you, seeing as how you’ve been gone for so long, but we do have bakeries here.”

  Ursula laughed. “It was worth a shot.”

  “You’re just trying to get out of coming home for Thanksgiving.”

  “Mom. It’s July. Can we not worry about November yet?”

  “I’m just saying that if you’re planning on coming, th
ere’s no harm in keeping an eye on the airfare. You never know what kind of deals there might be.”

  “I’ll set up an alert, okay?” She made a mental note to do that, though trading in the cold temperatures and chance of snow in Idaho for South Carolina wasn’t high on her list. The weather had been one of many reasons she’d packed up and headed to Arcadia Valley. Maybe it was a little farther afield than she’d planned—she loved her family—but when she’d added up all the pros and cons, this place had won. Hands down. Most days, she didn’t even regret it. “How’s Dad?”

  “Oh, you know your father. He spends all of his time playing that stupid computer game you got him for Christmas last year and leaves me to fend for myself.”

  “It’s not stupid. You might even enjoy it. You could be Dad’s crew. He and I hook up for missions when we can, but the time difference makes it a challenge.” That and the fact that, according to Dad, at least, Mom only let him play for two hours a day and never in the evening. Which pretty much meant there was no chance they’d be online at the same time unless Ursula made a point of setting work aside. Which she sometimes did.

  “Please. Anyway, other than that, he’s doing fine. We’re planning a trip down to Charleston next week. He wants to stop at some little towns along the way and see if he can find a few of the graveyards that are supposed to be there. It’ll be nice to add to our rubbings. Assuming they’re still there.”

  “Remember to wear long pants. You don’t want to get a ton of chiggers again.”

  “I know, I know. Honestly, one time I forget and I never live it down. I only told you so you’d know if we weren’t home. If you decided to call.”

  Like she ever had a chance to call. Mom called so often, there was no point. All she had to do was wait five minutes. “Or I could call Dad’s cell phone if I was worried.”

  “That too. So a bakery?”

  Ursula smiled and carried her bread back to the office. “I thought you might be curious. It’s run by three brothers. They’re new to the area and their sister took over the Fairview B&B—you remember I told you when the previous owner, Naomi, passed away?”

  Her mother sighed. “That was so sad. So young. And really your only friend out there. Have you given any more thought to trying out a church? I know you attend ours online, but it isn’t the same thing.”

  She wasn’t going to get into that discussion. Naomi had, almost, convinced her to give Grace Fellowship a try. Then she’d gotten sick and...it was probably better this way. The problem was, her mother could be persistent. Unless... “They’re all quite handsome.”

  “Oh?” How could her mother convey so many questions in one word? It wasn’t a skill Ursula had managed. Yet.

  “I’m going to have to get some photos for the website. I’ll send them to you when I do.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. They’re handsome. But for all I know they’re married and have ten kids each.” Okay, none of them had been wearing wedding bands. Although Ruth had sported a gorgeous engagement ring on her finger.

  Her mother huffed out a breath. “Honestly, Ursula. I don’t know why you take such joy in tormenting me. Maybe I will come out, after all. And then I can see about marrying you off to one of the bakers. If you’re not going to come home, the least you can do is give me grandchildren.”

  Who she’d only see a handful of times a year, when Ursula and Fictional Husband made the trek to South Carolina. But there was no point in saying that. Grandchildren was the bone her mother never put down easily. She made a non-committal grunt. “I should run, Mom. Love you. Thanks for calling.”

  Shaking her head, Ursula plugged in her cell and scooted closer to her computer. Still no MalRen. Where was he? She ran through their conversation last night and...nothing. There was nothing that should have scared him off. But if things went the way they usually did, somehow she had.

  3

  “I don’t understand.” Ruth signed as she spoke, her face the picture of annoyance. “What’s wrong with the room upstairs?”

  Malachi eyed his brothers. They were seated around the small table in the B&B’s kitchen, along with Ruth’s fiancé, Corban. Both arched their brows at him. Fine. He’d been the one to broach the subject at the bakery, sure, but they’d been in total agreement. Now, however, it appeared they were going to take the coward’s way out. He signed, his throat too tight to speak. “There are three of us and we’re all used to being on our own. It’s...crowded.”

  Ruth visibly deflated. “Okay. I can see that. I’d offer you my rooms but it wouldn’t solve the problem, just delay it for a bit.”

  Corban cleared his throat and finger spelled while he spoke. “I might have a solution.”

  Malachi cringed. It was great that the guy wanted to learn to sign. Flattering, even, that he cared enough about his sister to do it. But he needed a better book than whatever he was using. Reading lips was a lot easier than trying to spell everything and make something coherent out of it. “What’s that?”

  A slow grin spread across Micah’s face. “I think I might know what you’re going to suggest and I’m for it.”

  Jonah elbowed Micah. “Let the man speak.”

  “What if you came and lived at the farmhouse? I’ve got the room.” Corban pushed the empty plate, a remnant of the dinner they’d shared, toward the middle of the table. “Wouldn’t mind the company either. And since you’re early risers as well, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Malachi frowned. His brothers were early risers. He did everything in his power to sleep ‘til the reasonable hour of seven. Which is why he got stuck manning the counter in the later afternoon hours. Or whenever they decided they needed a break. And sure, meeting Ursula today had definitely been a perk, but he usually spent the whole time wondering when he was going to mess up and miss a question or an order. Still, having his own room would probably be enough. If the lights weren’t going on, he wouldn’t wake. It’s not as if the noise would bother him.

  “In fact, that might just solve another problem your sister and I’ve been discussing.” Corban glanced over at Ruth and held out his hand. She slipped her fingers through his and smiled. “Once we’re married, I know my mom ran the B&B from the farm house, but Ruth thinks—and I agree—that it’s more convenient if we live here. But I didn’t want to let the farmhouse go unoccupied. If you’re living there...well, it’ll be taken care of.”

  Ruth nodded, though her eyes were unhappy.

  “What’s wrong?” Malachi touched Ruth’s arm.

  “I like having you here.” She shrugged. “But you’re right. It’s cramped up there and, all things being equal, I could use the extra room for guests.”

  Jonah nodded. “Sounds like a plan. When do you want us?”

  “Whenever. That’s for you four to work out.” Corban scooted his chair away from the table and began collecting the dirty dishes.

  “Ruth?” Micah angled his head to the side.

  “Go. Tonight’s fine. I’m a big girl.” She blinked her eyes and stood, reaching for the last of the dishes.

  Jonah and Micah’s chairs toppled backward as they left the kitchen, talking about packing. Malachi rose more slowly, watching his sister. She set the dishes in the sink and stood for a moment. He eased to the doorway, still watching. Ruth sniffled. Corban drew her into his arms. His gaze met Malachi’s and one corner of his mouth lifted.

  “She’ll be okay.”

  Malachi didn’t know if Corban spoke the words aloud or just mouthed them, but he nodded. She would. But he hadn’t intended to hurt her.

  * * *

  Malachi edged toward the church doors and wished yet again that he’d driven himself instead of riding along with his brothers. Corban had fetched Ruth—and thankfully they’d escaped all going together by virtue of the car being too small. It made sense. Why drive three cars to go to the same place? But Jonah and Micah always ended up socializing after the service. It’s what you did when you moved to a new place. Malachi got tha
t. He just didn’t happen to enjoy it. And, great, here came Mrs. Poncetta. Last week she’d cornered him to tell him all about the singles class. Like he hadn’t already visited twice. What would it be this week?

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of blonde hair and turned. Was that...? Malachi turned and ducked out the door. He jogged across the parking lot as the woman walked, head down, toward the street. Slightly out of breath, he plucked at her sleeve.

  Ursula stopped and turned, clutching her Bible to her chest.

  Malachi grinned. “Ursula, right?”

  She nodded, her lips curving into a tight smile. “Mr. Baxter. Hi. Did you need something? I don’t actually work on Sundays...”

  He arched a brow. Mr. Baxter? Why had he even bothered to chase after her? Sure, she was pretty, and she’d seemed friendly, but she was no Scarlet Fire. Which was exactly the problem. No one was Scarlet Fire. At least no one he knew. So...he should try to make friends offline. Or at least look like he was trying so his brothers would get off his back. And maybe stop teasing him about his online girlfriend. Scarlet Fire wasn’t his girlfriend. Sure, maybe he’d basically decided she was the perfect woman—not that she was perfect. She had faults. She was always rushing into battle before he could come up with a plan. And she seemed to enjoy gossiping about other players—particularly if they did something stupid. But still, she was perfect for him. If he was ever going to fall in love, it’d be with her. At least with his own room, no one could complain if he stayed up later completing a mission. “No. Sorry, I just wanted to say hi. I haven’t seen you at Grace before.”

  “Ah. No. First time.”

  “And?”

  She shrugged. “It was okay. Not really any different from my usual.”

  It was like pulling teeth. “Which is where?”

  Her lips thinned as she pressed them together. “Online. My parents’ church, the one I grew up in, streams their services.”

  “So you’re not from here, either?”