The Baker's Man

By A. Sanders

A dramatic novel that follows the journey of a young woman as she copes with loss and increasing danger when her husband accidentally stumbles across a group of assassins operating from their home town. She is left with no choice but to trust her life and the lives of her children into the hands of a man she has every reason to distrust. In the midst of her grief, she must face the repercussions of her own actions while she explores a concept that defies all logic as she finds herself falling in love with the one man she despises. The only man that can save her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9781304193810

Book preview

The Baker's Man

The Baker’s Man

A. Sanders

Copyright  2013 by A. Sanders

ISBN 978-1-304-18699-7

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written consent of the publisher. Except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Dedicated to Grandma Shaw, who reminded me of the joy I find in writing. My dad, who always told me that dreams can come true and my young daughters, who still think romance is gross.

Chapter 1

This isn’t a love story. Maggie had known that since the first time she had laid eyes on the infuriating but devastatingly handsome man she’d come to marry. There were no white stallions or turrets with banners blowing in the wind. She hated Rich almost as much as she loved him and more than that, occasionally. No one could make her feel so enraged, helpless or weak at the knees. He made her want to pull her hair out, kick him in the shin or kiss him senseless, sometimes at the same time. If she was being honest with herself, she might have admitted that she wouldn’t have it any other way. But she didn’t feel like being honest tonight. Tonight she had a mind to fight dirty. It seemed to her that she’d spent more than half of the last five years furious. Tonight was no exception.

Maggie stormed out of the bedroom, flinging the door closed behind her. She could feel the vibrations as it slammed shut and felt some satisfaction. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears as she threw her slender frame onto the couch. Silence followed as she lay there with her arm across her forehead and her feet propped up on the arm of the couch. She quietly seethed as the clocked ticked a steady beat in the otherwise silent house. She fought the urge to rip it from the wall.

Her long dark hair lay tangled around her head framing the pretty oval face that was puckered in a deep grimace.  Her high eyebrows were pulled down into frown lines that narrowed her normally wide green eyes. Her full lips were pursed into a pout. Absently she rubbed her foot over the opposite ankle. She was engrossed in thought, secure in the knowledge that he would not come after her. Had he ever? She snorted in disgust, which was the answer to her own question. Her other hand came up to rub her eyes. Lord, Maggie hated that man. She absolutely hated him. But she would never leave him because she couldn’t live without him.  This was the thought that irritated her the most at the moment. Love could be so bothersome.

What had they even fought about again? She couldn’t exactly bring it to mind. She smiled softly in the dark. That was pretty typical with their relationship. Maggie had too much fire and he had too much pride, it was little wonder that things got out of hand a good deal of the time. Their love was like a hurricane, it swept her away, threw her this way and that. It pulled her under until she thought she would drown in it.

She thought about him laying in bed alone and wondered if he was sleeping. He probably was, she decided. He had been working long stressful hours; the strain was taking its toll on both of them. She thought about him laying there clad only his briefs hugging his delicious bottom, with his muscled thighs and defined calves exposed. If she were lying there in bed, she would be laying in the crook of his arm on his shoulder with her hand tracing from his broad shoulders down to his chiseled abs. It never ceased to please her how toned her husband’s body was or the handsomeness of his face. He had dark, rugged good looks. His deep, rich, chocolate eyes mesmerized her, gritting her to no end when she had a point to make. She thought of running her fingers through his thick dark hair while kissing his big full lips and felt a rush of desire course through her.

Damn she swore softly under her breath. Suddenly remembering the reason why they had been fighting. She had wanted to make love and he had made excuses. She laughed softly. She didn’t want to laugh but it was quite an insane thing to fight about when you thought about it. She laughed again, a little louder this time. She continued to laugh as the absurdity of the situation fully hit her. She found she could no longer be angry or hurt but more so amused and slightly surprised.

Who fights about that? She wondered in amazement. But that was just the way it was, the way it had always been. Their life was full of more passion that they knew what to do with, passion that could flame piping hot and with the turn of a new thought, fan into something completely different. It was a passion that was ever changing, ever molding, ever irrational. She laughed again.

By the time, he came out to investigate what was going on, she was clutching her side, gasping for air. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She sobered momentarily and looked up at his bewildered expression, which caused her to seize up in another fit of laughter. The corner of his mouth twitched as he tried not to grin. He bent down with a growl and kissed the laughter from her throat. When he pulled back from her, she was staring up at him with her big doe eyes filled with worship.  And just like that, the storm was over, just like it had never been. Anger never brewed long in the Parson home. He growled again and scooped her up easily into arms beautifully sculpted from daily physical labor and carried her to their bedroom.

After a thorough round of love making, she contentedly listened to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her head. He toyed with the strands of hair that were fanned across his chest. She ran her hands up and down his torso, delighting in the textures of his skin. His member began to harden at her insistent touching. She smiled up at him wickedly and straddled him. She gave him a predatory look and he chuckled softly as his hands came up to cup her breasts. She threw her head back and began to grind against him. He moaned softly and he could see her eyes darken in the soft light of their bedroom. He grabbed her bottom and tried to lift her to cover him but she had ideas of her own. She bent down to kiss the soft spot behind his ear and let her tongue flick against the tender skin. She could feel his shaft pulse against the inside of her thigh but she still would not receive him. Their breathing was both becoming erratic when the baby monitor cackled beside the bed.

They froze and looked at the other.  He wore a guilty expression that she was sure mirrored her own. She giggled a little as she climbed out of bed and tiptoed past Josilyn’s room, their oldest daughter, to the nursery. Violet was staring at her lady bug mobile, cooing in a way that melted Maggie’s heart every time she entered the room. Violet saw her mother standing beside the crib and reached her chubby little arms out to her. Maggie dipped down and scooped up the child. She nuzzled Violet’s neck and cooed back to her in a language they alone shared. Violet reached out to grab a fistful of Maggie’s hair but Maggie dodged the attack, pretending to reprimand the impish little girl in her arms as they left the room.

As they wandered into the living room, they found Rich had already made himself comfortable on the sofa.

Can’t sleep? Maggie asked him with a mischievous gleam in her eye. She snuggled Violet and herself on the sofa next to him and he turned the television on.

I might never sleep again. He woefully complained. Maggie tried to look thoroughly chastised as he glared at her.  There was a soft tug on the sleeve of the shirt Rich had thrown on. He stared down into two big, two year old eyes and then swung Josliyn up between him and her mother.

I’m beginning to suspect a conspiracy. He said as Maggie snuggled against him with the girls and searched through the channels for a movie to watch, I think you are all in cahoots together. His wife just gave him an innocent smile and he chuckled.

He loved that woman to distraction. But with that thought came the more unpleasant ones about how dangerous his work was and how it was becoming increasingly so. He hadn’t wanted to let on how worried he was but it was obvious that Maggie had already caught onto him. She’d always been quick, no matter what the situation. He’d never been able pull a fast one on her, she could spot him out a mile away. He liked that about her. In fact, he couldn’t think of a thing he didn’t like about her. He even liked her hot little temper. She was like a match, quick to ignite, fast to burn out. She never could stay mad very long or hold a grudge, even despite her best efforts. But Lordy, wouldn’t she throw a fit if she knew the true reasoning for him being distracted.

He’d done soil sampling with his co-operator, James, for nearly seven years when James suddenly retired last year. The guy they had replaced him with was a loose cannon at best, down right dangerous at worst. Several times Rich had gone to his boss, Larry, about Steve and several times Larry had smoothed over his fears. Rich’s face darkened as he thought about how close he had come to getting tangled up in an auger due to Steve’s negligence two days ago. He shuddered to think what would have happened if he hadn’t have turned to talk to the client a brief second before Steve accidentally engaged the auger Rich was trying to lengthen. He could still see the look of horror on Steve’s face and still feel the mounting anger coursing through him. He could still feel Larry’s beefy hand grabbing him by the arm.

It was an accident Rich. Larry kept repeating over and over as Rich tried to shrug him off. Larry was a balding, pot bellied man in his middle to late forties. When it came to experience, you couldn’t have a better man on your side but the trouble with Larry was that he always wanted to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. Rich knew that accidents happened, he’d committed more than his share of them but Steve was daily making hazardous mistakes, simple rookie mistakes, mistakes that could cost a man his life.

Maggie looked up at him and he could see the questions in her eyes. Had he really shuddered visibly? He inwardly groaned that he had. He was just thankful he hadn’t started talking out loud. He really should be getting some sleep but the girls looked so content, he couldn’t bear to give up this time with them. Lately he had been leaving before the sun came up and coming home long after Maggie had put the girls to bed. Just earlier tonight he had stood in the doorway of Josilyn’s room watching her sleep. He wasn’t sure how long he had stood there, just leaning brokenly against the door jam until Maggie had come and put a hand on his shoulder, leading him to dinner. She’d sat on his lap after dinner, studying him but when he didn’t offer any information, she didn’t press him. She had just led him to bed. What had they fought about again?

His eyebrows pinched together in thought. He smiled when he remembered. What a thing to fight about! Many of the guys he worked with did little but complain about their wives losing the desire for intimacy or their rounding figures. If anything, Maggie’s appetite for him had increased when they had had the girls and that figure of hers, what a figure it was! It no longer resembled the girlish shape she had had as his bride but children had given her the curves she’d never had before, lush curves that still left her slender. Her hair was dark and full. She normally left it long and he loved to wind his hands in it. She had the biggest, richest green eyes he had ever seen, eyes that had captivated him from the start.

He thought back to the day he met her. She had only been nineteen and she had hit him right between the eyes, literally as well as figuratively.  She’d been currying a horse at a show in Lansing, Michigan. She’d come up from Ohio and he’d come along for the ride with a friend who knew a thing about horseflesh. He’d come up behind her to compliment her on her ride. Perhaps he’d stood a little too close. Perhaps his voice had been a little too husky. In a natural reaction, her hand came up, connecting the curry with his forehead. The girl could pack a punch, enough that he had to sit down a moment, but not nearly as much as those deep green eyes that widened in horror and embarrassment. She had been so young and fresh. He couldn’t forget the way she stammered over her apology, touching his forehead and mussing his hair this way and that, trying to examine him better. He’d grabbed her wrist and told her she owed him dinner. She was taken aback but then her eyes had danced when she told him that she was a poor, starving college student with no money to buy a strange man dinner, even if he was handsomer than the devil and she had, unfortunately, roughed him up a bit. He’d married her six months later, much to the chagrin of her parents. They’d had higher hopes and bigger dreams for their beautiful daughter than to be the housewife of a grease monkey like him.

Maggie touched his arm and was looking at him with genuine concern now. He swore softly under his breath again as he realized he hadn’t answered her silent question yet. When had he gotten so absent-minded? He really needed to quit working so hard; maybe he’d ask his boss for some time off. Lord knows he had enough time accumulated. Maybe he’d just quit his job. Take Maggie to a wide open space like he’d promised her. He wanted to give her the barn, the land, the horses in the field, everything she’d given up when she’s left Alliance, Ohio to make her home with him.

He gave Maggie his best boyish grin and gave a crooked shrug. It seemed to pacify her for the moment and she snuggled back down to watch A Bug’s Life. Josilyn was entranced and Violet was touching and tasting Maggie’s locket. Maggie. Sweet Maggie, who was smiling indulgently at the six-month-old baby. His heart constricted as he thought of leaving her a widow to tend to the girls on her own.

It won’t happen, he inwardly challenged, I will not let it happen! But somewhere in a deep, dark place inside him, he wasn’t sure he believed it.

Chapter 2

Maggie woke up the next morning to a lonely bed. She lay there several minutes staring at the ceiling, thinking about how distracted Rich had been lately. She knew something was bothering him but she also knew that if she pressed him too hard about it, he would clam up.  She lay there several more minutes trying to come up with a strategy but was unable to.

Need coffee. She thought aloud. Coffee was the answer to most everything, in her opinion. If coffee couldn’t fix a situation, it certainly could make it seem more agreeable. How she had lived most of her life without coffee, she hadn’t been able to figure out but ever since Josilyn had been born, it had become a necessary evil. She rolled out of bed and softly made her way to the kitchen. The girls would sleep a little later today due to their late night movie. She smiled at having the morning to herself. Perhaps she would take her coffee on the deck and then work a little in the garden.

After her second cup of coffee, and a bagel with cream cheese, she made her way out to the front of their house. It was a plain, moderately sized ranch style house with expansive flowerbeds and bright blue shutters in the front to dress it up. It was going to be a rather hot day, not unusual for the beginning of June. She wore cut off jeans, cut much too short, and a fitting tank top. She had her delicate hands covered with hot pink gardening gloves and they perched on her hips as she surveyed her gardens with her back to the road. There were violets, snapdragons and pansies of every color mixed haphazardly in between rose bushes. She supposed there were other flowers that would please her just as much but she bought the same kinds every year, for the sole reason that those were the flowers that Rich bought her that first year she’d come to live here with him. It was a surprise that she would never forget when he pulled up with a truckload of greenery that was already in near full bloom. Remembering the large lopsided grin on his face, like a cat that had just swallowed the pet canary, brought a smile to her lips.

Cancel all your plans! He’d yelled to her after honking the horn until she came out to the deck. I think you will be busy today.

She’d rolled her eyes and laughed at him but she’d skipped down the steps to the truck anyway. When she glanced in the back of the truck, she’d turned to him with questions on her pretty face.

You say the house has no character, well, here you go. Go nuts. She’s smiled at him then, throwing herself into his arms. She was homesick for small reminders of her childhood home. She didn’t know how he had known what would perk her up but he had.

He’d always known what would make her content and what thoughts were on her mind. They shared a sense of telepathy that she didn’t understand. It didn’t matter how hard she tried to conceal any thoughts or worries from him, he always sniffed them out. It was on the long list of things she loved and hated about him.

She wasn’t a romantic by nature, she was far too logical but as she stood with her hands on her hips staring at the same flowers she planted year after year, she supposed that maybe she was. Her hair was wildly arranged high on the back of her head and the wind tussled some flyaway strands that had escaped into her eyes. She pushed them back with a sigh. It was a never-ending battle.

She heard it before she saw it. She judged it was probably still two or three miles down the road, flying towards her house like the hounds of Hell were chasing it, going at least double the speed limit. She felt her body coil in anger. It never ceased to amaze Rich how she could distinguish the sleek, black mustang before it even came into view. She knew she’d know that black devil anywhere.  Who did he think he was, thinking that he could drive 90 mph past the yard where her children played? She felt her hands clench into tight fists at her side. True to her intuition, the black mustang came into view, so fast that one might look for the rocket propelling it. She waited until he reached the edge of their property line and then she slowly turned and gave him a defiant one finger salute, as was her ritual every time the mustang drove by.

She was still quivering in anger as the car continued by undeterred. Bastard. She muttered, indignant that he was driving too fast to even receive her insult. What would Rich say if he saw her vulgar treatment of the black mustang and its driver, who she had never actually met? It amused her to picture his eyes widening at the thought of it. She was certain, even after five years of marriage, that he still thought of her as a delicate flower and he was always shocked when she did something to the contrary. Despite the battles between the two of them, he seemed to think that only he could bring out that side of her. Which most of the time was true, until the mustang and its wild driver drove into the picture. She drew a deep cleansing breath that exhaled like a sigh, suddenly too hot and bothered to work on her beloved flowers. 

When she entered the house she heard Josilyn talking to herself in her toddler bed. A couple months past two years old but she still talked mostly Martian, as the family affectionately referred to it. Maggie felt a smile tug at her lips and the last of her anger ease from her body. Maggie opened the door to Josilyn’s bedroom and heard her screech, Mama, Mama, Mama. It never ceased to amaze Maggie how Josilyn always acted so excited, and a little surprised, when she came to get her from bed, like she had doubted Maggie would come at all. Maggie kissed Josilyn and pulled her into her arms and carried her out to the living room before setting her down.

Want some breakfast, Bug? Maggie asked the little girl.

Eat! Josilyn squealed as she raced to her high chair in the kitchen. Maggie had no choice but to follow. Eat! Eat! Eat! Josilyn hollered as she did a dance around the high chair, waiting to be lifted up.

Alright, Alright. Calm down. We’ll get you some food. Maggie mumbled as she busied herself moving around the kitchen pulling out ingredients for omelets and waffles. People would think I never feed you. She told her daughter, secretly pleased by the girl’s enthusiasm for food. She’d never met a toddler who ate as willingly or as much variety as Josilyn. Dinnertime was convenient for Maggie. She always inwardly grimaced when her friends talked about only being able to cook a handful of dishes, if that, for supper. Maggie just didn’t think she could eat macaroni and cheese with any sort of regularity. Whether it was just Josilyn’s nature or if she had learned she’d go hungry if she didn’t eat what was made for her, Maggie couldn’t really say but she certainly was happy with Josilyn’s eating habits.

Halfway through cooking omelets, Violet began to cry. Maggie sighed, she hated leaving Violet to whimper while she flipped the omelet but she didn’t like to waste food either.

Baby josilyn said matter of factly.

Yep Maggie said, We’ll got get her in a minute when mommy is done with this omelet.

Me talk ta her! Josilyn insisted, heading out of the kitchen.

Maggie smiled at her daughter’s retreating figure. She had never met a more devoted or loving big sister either. How many times had Josilyn told her that Violet was her baby? Not mommy’s, not daddy’s, not even ours but hers. Maggie chuckled as she flipped the omelet. What would she do without her little family? She didn’t really care to find out.

Naptime came early today, both girls exhausted from the night before. Maggie loved this time of day. It was when she could scrub and scour her house without taking time away from her girls. After she had gotten the house to her satisfaction, she went out to get the mail.  Matches, their red golden retriever, followed her loyally down the driveway. Matches stopped at the end of the driveway as Maggie crossed the road to the mailbox. She stood by the mailbox flipping through the mail when she heard it.

Her eyes narrowed. She could hear the mustang being shifted into a faster gear, even from a few miles off. She was immediately trembling with anger. What was it about that car that riled her? She’d met many rude, pompous… jerks, for lack of a more ladylike term, in her lifetime. Why should this one get under her skin? She ordered Matches to go to the house. The dog stood and wagged her tail, unable to understand what Maggie wanted. Matches looked confused and took a tentative step towards Maggie. Maggie’s heart plummeted into her stomach.

No Match, No! Stay! She shouted, holding both palms out in front of her like