His Wildest Sunflower

CHAPTER ONE

Sophie Sinclair could only remember one moment of true happiness in her life. 

A sobering realization considering she was twenty-eight years old with no home or family of her own. And no hope of finding either anytime soon. But since she despised self-pity, she blinked away the rogue tears, slipped the tray of unbaked cookies into the industrial oven, and set the timer. Then she wiped her hands on her black apron and inhaled the scent of cinnamon and chocolate that permeated the kitchen of the Devil’s Renegades Cupcake and Coffee Café. At least she had this moment, in this space, where she was safe, had free food, and could work alone and undisturbed.

She straightened her shoulders and spoke to the huge vase of sunflowers gracing the desk in the corner. Someone had placed the arrangement in front of an oscillating fan, and the stems wobbled in the airstream. “It’s going to be okay.”

The large yellow blooms bowed in consent.

She just wished she believed her own words. When a woman didn’t have a home to call her own, being “okay” was a luxury.

After a few more deep breaths, she checked her to-do list and headed into the pantry that was larger than her last apartment. Floor-to-ceiling steel shelving units had been bolted to the walls and more metal shelves lay stacked on the floor. Lily Mosby, the owner, had purchased the café almost a year ago, but the 18th century building was still undergoing serious renovations. Apparently Revolutionary War-era buildings hidden deep in the Virginia mountains, especially those in the town of Kingsmill, didn’t appreciate a lot of fussing.

She pulled a five pound bag of flour off the shelf, carried it back into the kitchen, and placed it onto the center island. Then she wiped her forehead with the towel she kept attached to her waist. While she wasn’t like her boss, Lily, who was a famous French pastry chef trained in the best European culinary schools, she had her own specialties courtesy of the rundown roadside diner where she’d worked for the past ten years. One of those specialties was a savory tart made with her cranberry pot roast. A roast that simmered in a Dutch oven on the nearby gas stove. 

Cooking had always grounded her. And working at Lily’s café for the past three weeks soothed her anxious heart and racing mind. While she might not be happy, she was grateful for this job in spite of the regrets that kept her up all night. Regrets like ditching the rundown diner outside of Salem, Massachusetts without notice. The diner’s owner had been good to her over the decade that she’d worked there, and she hated how she’d left despite the fact the situation hadn’t been all her fault. There had been extenuating circumstances.

Or maybe she was just making excuses to ease her guilt.

“Sophie?” Lily’s voice rang out from the front of the café. “Can you bring out that tray of sunflower cupcakes?”

“Yes.” She went to one of the three large industrial refrigerators. Inside, twelve trays of the most delicious cupcakes she’d ever tasted were nestled on individual shelves. She pulled out the cupcakes decorated with 3D sunflowers made from fondant and buttercream icing. Lily had made them to celebrate the Sunflower Festival that was taking place this weekend in a meadow on the other side of the mountain, and the desserts were works of art.

She placed the tray on the counter and closed the refrigerator door only to catch sight of her reflection in the stainless steel doors. She hated the dark circles beneath her eyes that told the world she had a history of making bad choices that led to sleepless nights. She shook her head. This was not the time for self-reflection. She had long hours alone in an abandoned room with no electricity for those ugly remunerations. 

She forced herself to smile and carried the cupcakes into the café. After placing the tray carefully on the glass top of the bakery case, she paused. Where the kitchen had been quiet and peaceful, the front room of the café bustled with competing noises. Low jazz music intermixed with the chatter of at least thirty people, the ringing bells from the small church down the street, and the buzzing of texts from the multitude of cell phones. And every time the front door opened and closed, the bell above the doorway chimed. 

It all seemed perfectly normal for an early Saturday morning—seven a.m. according to the church bells—except for how people were dressed. The tourists were easy to spot in their jeans, fall-themed sweaters, and hiking boots. Even though it would probably reach seventy degrees today, the visitors seemed eager to embrace the fall season the Shenandoah Mountains epitomized. The other people in the café reminded her of the annual haunted parades in Salem Common’s public park. Here, like in her hometown leading up to Halloween, everyone wore different kinds of scary costumes. Teens in vampire outfits fought for counter seating space with the skeleton kids. The high school witches, tucked around a table in the corner, cast glances at two middle school boys near the soda fridge who both wore zombie costumes and munched on cinnamon rolls. 

Sophie put the cupcakes into the pastry display cabinet and glanced at the chalk calendar on the brick wall, beneath the clock, to check the date. It was October 18th, and Halloween was almost here. She wasn’t sure what the costumes were about, but she did know that everyone there that morning wanted at least two things: Gourmet coffee drinks and Lily’s famous cupcakes.

Lily came over and handed her the last two cupcakes to add to the pastry cabinet. “It’s okay.” Her voice held an edge of laughter. “You’ll get used to Kingsmill, especially around the holidays and special events. This town can be extremely quiet or extremely busy. There’s never any in-between.”

She’d noted those extremes the moment she’d arrived in town. More than half the stores on Main Street were closed up, yet the lines for Lily’s café began a half hour before opening. Probably because it was one of the last places left in town that served food. She began loading the empty cupcake tray with dirty mugs and plates that people had dropped on the counter. Luckily, Lily had three other people working in the café, helping to bus tables, take orders, and work the register. ”I feel like I’m in a TV show where the small, picturesque town has weekly events like Christmas tree lighting ceremonies, Fourth of July parades, and charity knitting competitions.”

Lily chuckled. “You should’ve seen this town when I was a kid. Every weekend offered some kind of festival.” She waved a hand toward the huge picture windows that looked onto Main Street where a few open stores stood between empty buildings. “Once upon a time, Main Street was the only place, within a sixty mile radius, to shop. We had bookstores, dress shops, candy barns, hardware stores, and every other store you can think of. We even had our own Post Office. Now, unfortunately, we have to drive to Milltown to get our mail.”

“What happened?” Sophie rearranged the dishes and mugs on the tray to balance the weight. 

Lily frowned and placed two more plates, each with only a few crumbs left, on the tray. “There was a war. And the town died.”

Surprised, Sophie watched her boss. With her long black hair twisted into an elegant bun and wearing a white chef’s coat over black trousers, she still looked like she should be living in Paris instead of in a small village hidden deep in the Shenandoah Mountains. Sophie really wanted to ask about the war comment, but the serious tone in Lily’s voice told her it was a subject best left for later. Instead, she lifted her chin toward the kids wearing pumpkin costumes who just entered the café and said, “It looks pretty alive now.”

Lily added an empty teapot to the tray and wiped her hands on the towel attached to her waist. “We don’t only have tourists visiting for the Sunflower Festival, the locals are getting ready for the annual Haunted House Tour. This afternoon is the first rehearsal which is why all the kids”—she waved toward two men standing in a far corner with coffee mugs dressed in vampire capes—“and some adults are wearing costumes.” She shook her head. “It’s going to be like this until November 1st, I’m afraid.”

“That’s okay.” Sophie lifted the tray and rested it on her shoulder. “I like it when things are busy.” Busy hands calmed her always-anxious thoughts.

Lily gently touched Sophie’s shoulder and offered a genuine smile. “I’m glad you saw my desperate Help Wanted sign in the window and approached me. You, and your savory New England tarts, appeared at the perfect time.” She nodded toward the savory pastry cabinet which was almost empty. “I’m selling those, as well as your mushroom-thyme quiches, faster than we can make them.”

“I’m so glad.” She headed for the kitchen again but paused in the doorway to add, “I’m making more tarts and quiches now. I’ve already filled the takeaway box lunches people ordered to bring to the sunflower festival. But I’ll have more ready for the lunch crush.” If the breakfast crowd and preordered box lunch orders were anything to go by, they’d need the food. 

“Thanks. And don’t let me forget—we need to talk about the menu and work schedule for our tent at the Halloween Haunted Trail.” Lily nodded and returned to the pastry cabinet. “And would you mind bringing out another tray of cinnamon rolls?”

“Of course.” Sophie entered the kitchen and deposited the tray of dirty dishes onto the counter next to one of the three sinks. Then she grabbed the tray of frosted cinnamon rolls that were the size of softballs. Although they’d been baked hours ago, Lily could reheat them quickly in the small heating oven behind the register. 

She went back into the café and added the rolls to the pastry case. Then she placed a few more empty dishes onto the tray.

“Where is my beautiful wife?” The booming male voice came from the doorway, and Sophie rested the heavy tray on her hip. The man, Gage Mosby, strode across the store, dodging tourists, witches, and mothers with strollers until he appeared behind the counter and wrapped his arms around Lily who was working the register. He wore his standard daily uniform of jeans, black T-shirt, and motorcycle boots. The entire outfit just emphasized his perfect masculine form.

Gage Mosby, Kingsmill’s mayor, was taller than most men and wore his dark hair short, probably because he was a retired Army Ranger. Apparently, from the gossip she’d heard, Gage came home over a year ago, quite unexpectedly. Not only did he take over the town’s governance and fight a war against the local motorcycle club, he won back the heart of the woman he’d loved and left in high school. And from the way Lily melted into his strong arms and lifted her face for his passionate kiss, it was obvious the two were meant for each other. 

He raised his head and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “We’re starving.”

“You’re always hungry.” Lily pulled out of his arms and settled her hands on her hips. “And who is we?”

“Ben and Kane. They just arrived home from their three-week fishing trip.” Gage glanced at the window overlooking Main Street. “My nephews are helping me with the paperwork for the Haunted House Tour. Now that Jacob is a new father, he doesn’t have time to do the actual planning. It’s enough that he had to miss the annual fishing trip with his brothers—”

“His wife just had a baby!” Lily tapped his arm. “I’d be horrified if Jacob had left Clara to go on that trip with his brothers.”

Gage shrugged. “I also got confirmation that Jacob and Clara are giving up their home for the event despite the fact they have a newborn son.” 

Sophie had met Jacob and Clara, but she’d not realized Gage had more nephews, at least not any that were alive. She followed Gage’s line of sight which focused on two tall, muscular men standing on the sidewalk, talking to each other. They both had short brown hair, but one wore jeans and a black Harley Davidson T-shirt while the other wore a sheriff’s uniform. 

She squinted to get a better view, and her heart revved in her chest. Those two men couldn’t be Ram and J-Reb….could they?

“So it’s true?” Lily asked. “Jacob and Clara are still hosting the Haunted House Tour at Mosby House?”

“Yep.” Gage peered into the back of the savory treats cabinet. “Do you have any more of those French meat pie thingies?”

“You mean Sophie’s tourtieres?” Lily winked at Sophie. Tourtieres were also one of her special recipes. “I believe Sophie is making some this morning. They’ll be ready around lunchtime.”

Gage glanced at her with serious, wide eyes. “They are incredible.”

“Thanks.” Sophie spoke in a soft voice, but her attention was still on the brothers talking on the sidewalk. Especially the one in the sheriff’s uniform. “Gage, how many nephews do you have?”

Lily laughed and returned to the register. “You don’t want to know.”

Gage took the last two mushroom quiches from the cabinet and put them onto a plate Lily handed him. “My daddy Caleb—who was one of the meanest men east of the Mississippi—had five sons. I’m the youngest. My brothers all married young and gave me three nieces and thirteen nephews.”

“Thirteen?” Sophie had had no idea Gage’s family was so large. “And they’re all still alive?”

Gage paused to stare at her, and she bit her lower lip. She’d had her reasons for asking, but in retrospect it was an odd, maybe even insulting, question. 

“No.” He frowned and glanced at Lily with a raised eyebrow. She just gave a small, elegant shrug. “As far as I know, everyone is still alive.”

Great. Now both Lily and Gage—two of the nicest people she’d ever met—thought she was strange. She forced her best fake smile and said, “That’s good.”

And it was good. But it was also… very, very surprising. 

One of the teenage waitresses appeared, and Lily plated two cupcakes and handed them back to her. “I guess the Haunted House Tour is worth Jacob and Clara’s sacrifice. It’s an important event that brings in tons of money for the church’s winter food bank.”

Sophie was grateful for the change in subject, and she took empty plates out of the savory pastry case and placed them on the tray.

“I think that’s why Jacob and Clara are so committed to the cause, even with a new baby.” Gage rubbed his hands together and took a sunflower cupcake out of the pastry cabinet. “I can’t believe it’s been a year since the last tour.”

Sophie exhaled in relief. Gage appeared to have gotten over whatever awkwardness her question had caused. “Be careful, Gage. You won’t be able to eat just one.”

He took a huge bite and smiled around the frosting and grinned so wide she saw the yellow frosting on his teeth. “Thanks for the warning.”

Lily handed him a napkin. “Since the café is full, do you want to have your meeting in the kitchen? Or upstairs? The apartment above the café isn’t finished yet. It’s filled with construction materials and new kitchen stuff, but I do have a large table up there I use for meetings with my staff. And the bathroom works.”

Sophie adjusted the tray on her hip. Had she removed her things in that bathroom? She was usually so good about cleaning up after herself, but she’d gotten lazy over the last few days.

While Gage and Lily discussed where they were going to meet, Sophie carried the cinnamon roll tray, now filled with more dirty dishes, back into the kitchen. After dropping the plates into the sink, she hurried to the far corner of the room and ran up the narrow staircase that led to the unused apartment. It was a small space with a galley kitchen, a living area, and two small bedrooms with a shared bath between them. A large table covered with boxes took up most of the main room, and the rest of the space was filled with kitchen supply boxes and construction equipment including ladders, table saws, rolls of pink insulation, and lots of paint cans. 

It didn’t take long to check the bathroom and throw the few things she’d left on the counter, including a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, into an empty moving box. She’d come up later and retrieve her toiletries, but for now no one would suspect she’d been using this bathroom for the past three weeks to shower and clean up.

Living in a nearby abandoned building that had no water or power wasn’t easy. Then again, she was a squatter who couldn’t complain since she was grateful for any roof over her head and didn’t want to get caught. She did not have the money to rent an apartment and put down a security deposit. At least not yet. So she needed to stay as unnoticed as possible for as long as possible. 

She closed the box holding her toiletries box and heard three distinct male voices coming up the stairs. Her breath shortened. There was only one stairway up to the apartment, so she was trapped—until she noticed a box printed with the words “stainless steel muffin tins” on the table. No one would question her coming upstairs to get supplies, and she felt silly for being so nervous. 

Seriously, out of thirteen Mosby men from Kingsmill about her age, what were the chances that the two coming up the stairs were the men she’d once known as Ram and J-Reb? Or, even if they were, that they’d recognize her? It’d been ten years since she’d seen them and she’d changed a lot.

Committed to her plan, she picked up the box—until her arm muscles clenched from the unexpected heavy weight. The box weighed at least sixty pounds. Before she could place it on the table again, her biceps cramped and she dropped it. The bottom of the box hit the edge of the table and tipped over. A sixty-pound bag dropped onto the floor with a huge bang and burst open. She jumped back, but not fast enough to avoid the huge gust of gray powder that rose up and choked her. 

She fell to her knees, coughing and gagging, just as the apartment door opened and the three Mosby men entered.

CHAPTER TWO

Sophie couldn’t stop coughing on the thick dusty substance. Her throat and eyes burned like she’d been scalded. 

“What was that noise?” Gage’s voice came from across the room and a moment later he knelt in front of her. “Sophie?”

She nodded in between coughs and wiped her arm across her forehead. Her hair, face, and most of her body was covered in concrete dust.

“Close your eyes, Sophie.” Gage held her arms down so she wouldn’t keep wiping her face. “We need to get you cleaned up before you rub this stuff into your eyes.” 

She closed her eyes and coughed until it felt like her lungs were rubbing against her ribs. 

“Kane?” Gage said. “Check that broken bag. What is this stuff?”

She heard rustling around her, like someone was picking up the broken box. “It’s Sakrete for making concrete.”

She bristled at the sound of Kane’s voice. Kane was the man she’d once known as Ram.

So, statistically, what were the chances that the other nephew was J-Reb? The one man in her life she’d been dreaming about for ten years? 

Gage muttered a curse as he helped her stand without opening her eyes. “Get your car, Kane. We need to take Sophie to the hospital in Milltown to get her eyes properly washed and to check for aspiration.”

“Will do.” Kane’s footsteps echoed and she heard the sound of a door slamming.

“Ben,” Gage said. “Call the hospital, tell them—”

“We don’t have to go to Milltown.” Ben’s voice rang out in the room, and her knees wobbled. “We have a well-equipped first aid station set up in Butterfly Meadows for the Sunflower Festival. It has an eyewash station and is much closer than driving through the mountains. Once we get her eyes washed, we can decide if she needs to get a chest X-ray.”

“Good thinking,” Gage said.

She shivered at the realization that both J-Reb and Ram—Ben and Kane—weren’t dead. They were very much alive—a state for which she was deeply grateful—but they were also the only two men in town who knew her real identity.

She took a deep breath until a coughing fit began again. Her closed eyes made her feel disoriented, and she wavered. 

“Ben,” Gage said, “take her other arm and we’ll guide Sophie downstairs.”

She coughed hard and grimaced at the pain in her ribs, and Ben took her other arm. She hated feeling helpless. But she couldn’t speak because her mouth was full of grit and every inhale seemed to make her breathing more ragged. Why did these kinds of things always happen to her? She had a powerful propensity for being in the wrong place, doing the wrong thing, at the exact wrong time, in front of the wrong people.

At least that’s what her juvie probation officer used to tell her.

Ben and Gage helped her walk across the room. Ben didn’t speak, but Gage kept muttering soft things like “It’ll be okay” and “take little steps” and “we’ll be there soon”. 

Although she felt ridiculous, she was also glad they were there. She could already feel her eyes swelling and getting itchy as stray tears rolled down her cheeks.

“This isn’t going to work with both of us,” Ben said softly. “The staircase is too narrow.”

“What do you suggest?” Gage asked.

“This.” Ben whispered in her ear, “Hang on, Sophie. I know we haven’t met yet, but my name is Ben Mosby. I’m the sheriff in town, and I’m going to carry you downstairs.”

Before she could respond, he swung her up in his arms. He held her close enough that her head rested against his shoulder and she wound her arms around his neck. She inhaled his aftershave’s scent of citrus and mint until she started coughing again. 

She didn’t just know Ben’s voice. She knew his scent. In fact, she’d memorized it and filed it away in a part of her mind that she never accessed. She’d even grieved for the loss of his scent which made discovering it again even more unsettling. Thank goodness he didn’t expect her to speak as he carried her down the stairs. Because for a few moments, she allowed herself to believe that Ben wasn’t just alive and well, but that they’d never been separated. 

As she rewrote the truth in her head, a skill she’d honed during her childhood spent in foster care, she rewrote her own history. This Ben—the man now carrying her so gently—hadn’t once been J-Reb, a member of a dangerous motorcycle club with whom she’d had the most incredible, most erotic one-night stand over ten years ago. Although that man, a member of the Devil’s Renegades Motorcycle Club, had been an incredible lover, he’d also been an outlaw biker who’d abandoned her and supposedly been killed, along with his brother, in a shootout behind the Salem Witch Museum.

A few moments later, Ben said softly, “Sophie, I’m putting you into the back of Kane’s truck, and I’ll get in next to you. We’re not far from the first aid station.”

She nodded and quickly found herself settled on a warm, leather seat. When Ben sat next to her, the seat dipped in his direction and she leaned her shoulder against his. Her heart still raced and her short breaths sounded ragged, as if she were hyperventilating. 

Ben took her hand, intertwined their fingers, and rested them on his muscular thigh. Then he whispered, “Stay calm. It’s going to be okay.”

Except it wouldn’t be okay. She’d been a fool to come to Kingsmill, Virginia and think there’d be no consequences. When she’d made the decision three weeks ago, she’d honestly believed that J-Reb and Ram—those real-life outlaw brothers—were dead because that’s what Trig, her ex-boyfriend, had told her. Except Trig was an abusive ass so it was possible everything he’d told her had been a lie.

Anxiety left her hands damp and now her foot tapped the floor of the truck. If she didn’t figure out a plan soon, everyone in town—including Lily and Gage who’d been so good to her—would know the truth. She was on the run. Wanted by the police. Living in an abandoned building. And in love with a ghost who wasn’t only not as dead as she’d believed, but was also a sheriff. 

Ben Mosby, the man she’d been secretly in love with for the last ten years, was a man of the law. While she, unfortunately, was running from an active arrest warrant.