Without Words

By A. R. Senault

Thalia Frederickson has a new lease on life. Finally, free from the Devil, but never far from her demons. She landed the hottest piece of real estate for her shop, Rock Your Cakes and Cupcakes. Unexpectedly, her salvation works two doors away, in the form of a brooding, tattooed Angel.
The new shop on Melrose has something to offer that BB Bartholomew cannot resist. His sweet tooth is ready, but nothing can prepare him for the frightened and adorable little baker.
Can BB put down his whips for love? Will Thalia give BB the chance to show his feelings, WITHOUT WORDS?

• Language: English
• Publisher: A. R. Senault
• Release date: Jun 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311943118

A. R. Senault

I live in Southern California with my husband and two sons. For nearly a decade I worked as a general manager for Barnes and Noble Booksellers. After my second son was born, I got this wild idea to become a stay-at-home-mom, or the dreaded term, housewife. After all, non-working moms wake early, sip coffee, read novels, and enjoy yoga outdoors, while listening to nature. Sign me up!One word to describe my last decade of existence is, delusional. When I began making seasoned breadcrumbs from the crust I cut off my kids’ PB&J’s, I knew it was time for a change. I did what anyone with unrealistic expectations would do. I went back to school for my Master’s degree.I got the degree with my husband and sons hanging on my back and grasping for dear life onto my limbs. To survive it all, I began writing. Creating a flawed, yet perfectly endearing man was my escape. Realizing I could create more than one, was my salvation.I enjoy traveling, reading, listening to music, and hiking. I’d rather go to Yosemite or the Sequoias for a family vacation than stand in line at an amusement park. I don’t mind getting dirty and I’ll often chose beer over wine, but I harbor an unhealthy appreciation for the smell of Nordstrom department stores, pricey sunglasses, a perfect martini, and designer shoes.I now stand on the edge of the cliff with all the normal, non-delusional folks. I have reality firmly embedded in my foundation, and the whisper of insanity at my back to keep my writing germane.I appreciate feedback and encourage readers to enter a library every so often to smell the books, while still embracing the wonderful Exploratorium of ebooks. Times-r-a-changing and we need to remain current, but there is no harm in remembering where we came from.

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Without Words

WITHOUT WORDS

A Melrose Shops Novel

Copyright © 2015 by AR Senault

Smashwords Edition

Thank you for downloading this eBook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Formatting and Interior Design

by AnnMarie Stone

Editing

By Silvia’s Reading Corner

Cover Design

by Erin Miller Photos

Photography for Back Cover

by Tracy dee Photography

Dedication

This book is dedicated to anyone who has ever felt fear and went for it anyway.

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

Epilogue

Struck With Love

She didn’t seek salvation because she knew there was nothing to look for.

When she was struck, her mind fought back her swelling heart. When she was under, her brain tried desperately not to breathe. But when the light caught her eye, she knew the contest was hopeless.

Love comes. It comes whether it’s sought out or stumbled upon. It blanches your soul, enough to tease your deepest desires. It knows no age, no color, and no boundaries, because it speaks only to the heart.

Love’s caress is encompassing, enlightening, and empowering. The strongest human desire, not only something we want, but the very thing we cannot live without.

True love sanctions growth, tolerates mistakes, and captures the essence of one’s true self.

Without love, we may survive. Though, a shallow and meaningless existence it would be.

Chapter 1

The industrial dead bolt disengaged, unlocking a new lease on life. A life guided by my own choices and decisions. Hiding was my constant companion for nearly five years. I had an uncanny ability to blend in; I went unnoticed even in the most conspicuous situations. Though today, the term wallflower could no longer describe me.

I twiddled a blue streak escaping from my braid, as a reminder of the person I’d become and not the one I buried. No tangible traces of the dead version of myself remained, much like the soullessness lingering from my indentured servitude. Nothing was salvaged, unfortunately that included parts of me. Yet, the contorted and ill-treated version of my former self lurked, though, I did my best not to feed her guilt.

Today however, was a new beginning, a fresh start to heal from the past. The license on the wall proved I was somebody, Thalia Louise Fredrickson, owner and proprietor of Rock Your Cakes and Cupcakes, on Melrose Avenue. The shop was slated to become a sexy lingerie store, but the owner backed out at the last minute. My uncle helped me swoop in to claim the hot spot in Los Angeles. He fronted the money to transform the store from a place that sold panties and bras to an upscale, fully functional bakery.

I kept the red lacquered concrete floor and the rich red, black, and white French Toile wallpaper for the front of the house and sales area. Plush benches adorned the perimeter and cute iron café tables and chairs were dispersed for additional seating. The black granite sales counter shone in compliment with the gleaming new bake cases. The décor was eye-catching and impressive, but what really took my breath away was the kitchen.

Oversized ovens flanked a large, five-star, restaurant quality stove. The chrome workstations and refrigerators were spit-shined and ready for work. Uncle Max insisted I purchase top of the line mixers, bowls, and utensils, which were stacked neatly on the many racks of storage throughout the space. Two shelves housed tin containers and glass jars filled with exotic chocolates, spices, and herbs from around the world.

I dared to think I was happy, as happy as I could ever hope to be. At least, I was free.

I dropped my phone into the music dock, pumped up the volume on my Pixie’s playlist, and got down to business. I came in early to display my cupcakes in the bake cases and I carefully placed a few exhibit cakes for any potential customers to view. Mainly my early morning goal was to prepare two large trays of root beer cupcakes I had spent many hours perfecting. I wanted to offer something special to the hot barbers and their clients’ two doors down.

Chuck and Monica, the owners of Melrose Tattoo and Piercing, loved the cinnamon and chocolate cupcakes I offered them while I was setting up shop. After getting to know the happily married couple, I took a long desired plunge and got a tattoo.

Getting inked went beyond the usual prefatory concerns a person experienced before the needle hit skin. Of course, the decision of my forever art and the placement was something I pondered for hours on end. And like any virgin tattoo client, I worried about the pain.

For me, getting inked meant more. It meant I was willing to expose my demons to a person other than the demon himself, and my sweet uncle. No one else in the world knew what I went through, or I should say, believed my experience, or cared.

Chuck agreed to ink my skin in a private enclosed room; in case my past tried to escape, it wouldn’t get far. He swore not to ask questions and he pledged discretion. I trusted him and his wife, Monica. Something in their eyes eluded honesty. I took to them immediately, and for the first time in many years, I made new friends.

Chuck kept his promise, he didn’t ask questions when I disrobed. He did however, say that he needed to tell someone about what he saw, and that someone needed to be Monica. The sight of my past could very well get under a person’s skin and slowly eat away at the belief of goodness or hope that most people harbored. I agreed to let him share the horror with his wife, which he may never know was a huge personal step.

The result was my first and probably only tattoo. The design required multiple sittings to complete. Pain was present, but not as excruciating as the pain Chuck disguised and turned into art. The concept was my idea, but the design was all Chuck’s. I wanted a ribbon to begin at the crest of my cleavage, entwine under my breasts, over my belly, twist and turn around to my back, and end with a beautiful bow between the dimples above my rear end. My stipulations were the color-- a hue of green, blue, and yellow-- and that Chuck tried to cover-up as many scars along the path of the ribbon as possible. The only changes Chuck implemented were a small floppy bow started between my breasts, and the ribbon ended with a larger bow than I originally suggested, with the tails flowing down the cheeks of my buttocks.

I was over-the-moon in love with my tattoo. No one would likely ever see it except for me, but I was important enough. The tattoo represented my vow to treat myself like a precious gift, although I constantly fought with the memory of being far less, for far too long.

The tattoo wasn’t my only change. I streaked my long, wavy blonde hair blue and afterwards I discarded my entire couture wardrobe. Never again would I wear muted colors and cardigan sweater sets. I’d die before I ever put on another conservative skirt, pair of pleated trousers, or tailored silk blouse.

My favorite Pixies song, Greens and Blues, pulled me to the present; the lyrics spoke to me and reflected my issues with the opposite sex. My strangeness and quirks kept relationships at bay. I popped open the container filled with chocolates I hand painted to look like barber poles. The cakes were ready; I prepped them last night before I locked up. All I had left to prepare was the frosting.

In with the frosting, I decided to include an additional swirl of the syrupy root beer concentrate I created. When I piped the confection, the darker wave of brown whirled throughout the paler butter cream. The finished product was unique and delicious. I filled a large baking tray with the cupcakes and placed one barber pole on each mound of frosting. A few cakes were kept aside for sale.

Rallying the courage to meet my new neighbors was the difficult task. Baking always came easy to me, but meeting new people, especially men, was a frightening experience. I grabbed my phone and keys and headed out the door before I could talk myself out of my kind gesture.

I walked through the open door to the Mel/Rose Barbershop, armed with my tray of cupcakes to mask my skittishness. Instantly, kind smiles landed on my actual cupcakes and not my usually distracting chest. I was a tiny woman with huge boobs, not really a description I liked, but the one I was born with. My breasts lured all the attention.

One of the hot barbers approached me. All my dreams just came true, he cheered.

A tall blonde and the only woman in the place pushed the dreamer out of the way. Don’t pay him any attention. I’m Nicole. Are you the new store owner?

Yes, I’m Thalia. I created a new recipe for your shop, root beer cupcakes. Over the past month I noticed most everyone meandering around the barbershop drank bottles of root beer. I figured they must have offered root beer or had a soda machine in the shop.

Root beer? You’ve got to be kidding. The dreamer swiped a cupcake from the tray. My name is James, nice to meet you. He took a bite of the cupcake and made a loud yum sound.

Nicole took the tray of cupcakes from my hands and then introduced me to the rest of the barbers. Dino, a handsome man with a silver lip ring and inked arm was introduced first.

Welcome to the neighborhood, Thalia, he said with a wide smile as he peeled the paper tin from his cupcake. I noticed he wore a wedding ring and appeared to be a genuinely happy man.

The next barber was a bit intimidating; his muscular stature was formidable. However, once I saw his kind smile, the kind that felt like a warm blanket on a cold day, his intimidation level decreased. Thank you for the cupcakes, he said and pulled me into a bear hug. I stiffened, dwarfed under his huge frame, but I didn’t panic. Confused by his warmth and kindness, I almost missed his name, Marcus.

A few other barbers and customers were introduced and every one raved about my cakes. They couldn’t believe I perfected the root beer flavor. To be honest, I was a bit surprised myself.

The barbers were unusually attractive and cool, and they seemed unaware of their godly superiority. They acted as though I was the cutest, sexiest girl to ever step foot in their shop. The sugar from my signature cupcakes must have been a lethal weapon designed to delude its victims.

What happened to the long-legged red head and the lingerie shop? Really guys? A fucking cupcake store. What’s next, a Baby Gap? huffed a tall, gorgeous, brooding, inked spectacle as he entered the shop.

Don’t worry about him, Tink, said James with his arm around me. He’s always this cranky.

I handed grumpy butt a cupcake. He accepted.

Tink? he asked.

Naw man, her name is Thalia, but doesn’t she look like a sugarplum fairy or something. She could sprout wings and I wouldn’t be surprised. James was the most outspoken person I ever met.

The shock on my face encouraged one of the other hot barbers to speak up; Dino was his name, if I remembered correctly. Don’t worry, James will seem tame once you meet our friend, Johnny.

Oh goodness, there were more of them?

I felt myself start to slip into my hole. The black place I went to when a situation became too overwhelming. My eyes spun and I looked up at the grumpy one. I saw concern mar his features and flash in his broody eyes. He was about to witness the onset of my famous breakdown, but somehow he seemed to understand exactly what was about to happen.

He put his hand out to cross my field of vision. His deep voice vibrated through our hands as he spoke, Hi Thalia, I’m BB. Sorry about the disparaging cupcake comment. Then, he took a bite of my cupcake and his eyes rolled back in his head. He moaned with delight and something unmentionable tingled throughout my body.

Miracle upon miracles, I was able to fight out of my funk and shake his hand. His eyes locked onto mine. The story behind his electric eyes read of pain akin to my own. He had a story alright, maybe not as dark as mine, but sad and heart wrenching all the same. Even so, his eyes spoke of kindness and love. I had a feeling he was a walking enigma.

I wasn’t sure how long we stood staring into each other’s eyes, but I finally snapped out of my reverie. Yes, I can imagine how disappointing I would be compared to a ‘long-legged red head’ in a lingerie shop.

James piped in, unable to control his outrageousness, Now I totally get how Peter had constant wood for Tinker Bell. You are the cutest little hot fairy I’ve ever seen.

I wasn’t about to correct James. Wendy was the one Peter had a thing for, not Tinker Bell. Tink had the hots for Peter and got jealous of Wendy, which ironically had a stronger parallel to the current situation. BB was hot, all fierce with his tats and piercings. His controlled mannerisms seemed a behavior bred deep to his soul. Yet, his eyes and smile told a kinder story, maybe even vulnerability?

James pulled me into his grasp and I flinched from the contact. BB looked as though he was physically going to remove James from my personal space. If I wasn’t mistaken, he had a wild look of possessiveness. With every exposed inch of skin inked, he resembled a colorful male bird in the wild, stating his claim or protecting his territory. Nature dealt an unfair hand designing the male species with vibrant colors and beautiful embellishments. BB was no exception. I could examine his colorful ink and piercings for hours. Intriguingly, the ink wasn’t the most vibrant aspect of BB. Something about him shone with an intensity that made him king of the jungle.

James exasperated, No… Don’t tell me. Dino, and now you? He knocked BB in the chest. Damn, I never get the good ones.

James stomped away still faintly muttering to himself and I had no clue what just transpired, but everyone else in the shop seemed to be in on the knowledge. BB stormed away with an indignant look.

Nicole cleared her throat. Okay, the show is over. Everyone thank Thalia for the root beer cupcakes.

In unison, Thank you Thalia for the root beer cupcakes, sang through the barbershop. Nicole must be the guys’ nanny.

I curtsied and escaped back to my safe haven.

See, that wasn’t so bad, I said internally as I walked past the sex shop named Desiree’s Desires to reach my store. It almost went bad when I momentarily felt overwhelmed by the hot barbers’ outgoing personalities. Surprisingly, BB was able to drag me away from the onset of an episode. I swear he saw through me to my fears that could easily unfold and present themselves. No, he was just being polite and introducing himself. I had a way of conjuring up more from a situation or gesture, that’s what got me in trouble in the first place.

Those fears kept me from introducing myself to the staff at Desiree’s Desires. I couldn’t muster enough courage to even look in the window. Fear that the sight of a whip on display would expose my secrets. I never intended to hide my secrets, but greed, selfishness, and control altered my independence.

I piped Soundgarden through the speakers to help drown the negative noise in my head. I realized alternative rock probably wasn’t the most congenial music to hear in a cupcake shop. Pachelbel’s Canon seemed more cake friendly, especially for brides-to-be. My signature design had an edge, a unique quality that was best complimented with rock music rather than classical. I was happy to produce a Disney character or standard design, but I was in my element when given free rein to design cakes as I pleased.

Being true to myself was my new motto in life.

As true as a totally damaged person could be.

The bell at the counter rang and a deep, raspy voice sounded, Thalia, are you here?

I found BB drooling over the bake cases. My pan, empty of root beer cupcakes, sat on the counter. Hi, thanks for returning my pan. Dork. BB had me flustered. If not careful, I would next talk about the weather.

No problem. It was a good excuse to get over here and apologize again. He faintly smiled, but in a friendly way, giving the impression that smiles didn’t decorate BB’s face too often.

Don’t worry about it. I get it. A cake shop isn’t nearly as cool as a lingerie store. Although, I found cakes pretty darn cool.

I’ve been out of town for a month. I didn’t know about the change in ownership. I’m sorry. Um, besides, this place is damn cool and I’m known for my insatiable sweet tooth, so cupcakes excite me more than lingerie. I mean, I like cake. Oh God, I’m going to cut off my tongue now, he flustered. Just please, accept my apology?

I didn’t think BB had ever babbled in his life. He appeared morbidly surprised by his blathering. Admittedly, if I was a woman with the slightest hint of confidence, I’d make him suffer a little to encourage further apologies. Unfortunately, I carried the confidence of an ant against a crushing foot. Too bad, because BB’s slip from control entertained me more than it should.

Apology accepted. I smiled and for a split second I thought little ol me could bring big, bad, BB to his knees.

The thought dissipated when BB slid his hand through his messy, spiked hair and smirked back like Billy Idol in an eighties video. Surely that was a practiced and deliberate move; a move designed to encourage women to voluntarily lose their panties. My fragile emotional state couldn’t flirt without the demons dancing through my mind. I had no choice but to back off and gain perspective.

BB was about to produce another panty-dropping move when a courier walked in with a gargantuan bouquet of flowers in a beautiful crystal vase. Sight of the flowers quieted BB.

After I signed for the delivery, I twisted the vase around to find the card.

An admirer? BB asked solemnly.

Likely my uncle Max, he spoils me. I tore open the miniature card.

My heart stopped. The innocent card was a wolf in sheep’s clothing; the words singed my fingertips as I took in the message, written in the Devil’s writing… Why are you selling cupcakes when you could have owned the world with me?

The scenery rushed past, just as it always happened. I gripped the counter to slow the movement, although I was stationary, but I couldn’t stop the rush. Several deep breaths failed to reclaim my sanity.

I heard BB’s voice, but I couldn’t respond. Thalia, are you okay? What can I do? he begged.

His mistake was when he put his hands on me. Though in comfort, my anxious mind couldn’t decipher harm from kindness.

Grabbing the bouquet, I crossed the short distance to the door and hurled the flowers onto the sidewalk. The crystal crashed and shattered, petals exploded from their stems, and water from the vase flowed like freshly shed tears. I locked the door, ran behind the counter, and curled into a corner.

The pain from my scars slicing open was unbearable. My head hid in my knees and I covered my ears to dull the whaling sound that crackled through my space. I was deep in the cavernous hole. The deepest I’d been in a long while.

The movement around me was subtle. I heard BB holler for someone to get Monica or Nicole.

The freefall didn’t subside. My heart tried its darnedest to escape my chest.

Monica entered, but I couldn’t reach out to her. I was in a cage, a circus act meant for the shock factor.

"See if her playlist has The Day I Tried To Live," BB ordered Monica.

No, we should call nine-one-one.

With the slimmest amount of strength, my hand squeezed BB’s arm. I felt his body next to me on the floor. History warned me to be frightened, but instinct to trust BB ensured safety.

Just fucking do it. It’s the only Soundgarden song I remember the lyrics to. His voice was harsh and demanding.

The opening riff shone a hint of light down my dark cave. BB’s voice was deep, mellow, and scraped across the lyrics. Each verse tugged my limp mind and body toward the sound. He sang knowing the intent and meaning of the words, like a kindred spirit who spoke directly to its own soul.

During the final chorus I stepped out of the hole. I spoke the background lyrics. BB remained next to me, eyes closed and his head swayed marginally to the beat. The song ended and he still sat. He said nothing, he just was. To him, likely a small gesture, but for me, he was everything I needed at that moment.

A long silence passed until Monica couldn’t hold her worry.

Thalia, are you in trouble? No matter what is wrong, we can help. Sincerity oozed from her voice. If only she could help.

Between the thought to answer her and my next breath, the usual happened. Shame and embarrassment overtook my emotions. I’m sorry, I just freaked out. That was the understatement of the century. I may as well asked, "Cupcake anyone?"

Tossing a three hundred dollar bouquet of flowers into the street surely signified that I was a lunatic. Then to curl inside myself like a hedgehog, well that didn’t improve my image.

It didn’t surprise me in the least that Brad chose my opening day to make contact for the first time in a year. I was, however, scared to death at the implication that he was closely observing my life, again. My rights were violated, but the shady deal made between our parents left me vulnerable with only the protection of an unscrupulous man’s word. My ex-husband was untrustworthy to say the least, which meant I constantly waited for him to come after me.

I noticed BB and Monica off to the side of the shop, their whispers only added to my already heightened paranoia. I could only imagine them discussing the best way to get me to the local funny farm.

Listen, I’m okay. Sometimes I freak out. Thanks for your help, but please, let me reopen the store and get on with my day. I had nothing else to say.

BB heeded