The Bakery Sisters Read Free

She was confident Nicole would want to tell her immediately.
    She got out of the car and smoothed the front of her sweater. It was cool enough that she kept on her coat, hoping it wasn’t too wrinkled from the drive. After collecting her purse, she carefully locked the driver’s door. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the bakery.
    It was midafternoon and relatively quiet. There were two young moms sitting at a corner table with pastries and coffee. Two strollers with babies were between their chairs. Claire offered a smile as she made her way to the long counter. The teenage girl there looked at her.
    â€œCan I help you?”
    â€œYes. I hope so. I’m Claire. Claire Keyes.”
    The teenager, a plump brunette with big, brown eyes sighed. “Okay. What can I get you? The rosemary garlic bread is hot out of the oven.”
    Claire smiled hopefully. “I’m Claire Keyes,” she repeated.
    â€œHeard that the first time.”
    Claire pointed to the sign on the wall. “Keyes, as in Nicole’s sister.”
    The teenager’s eyes got even bigger. “Oh, my God. No way. Are you really? The piano player?”
    Claire winced. “Technically I’m a concert pianist.” A soloist, but why quibble? “I’m here because of Nicole’s surgery. Jesse called and asked me to—”
    â€œJesse?” The girl’s voice came out as a shriek. “She didn’t. Are you kidding? Oh, my God! I can’t believe it.” The teenager backed up as she spoke. “Nicole is so going to kill her. If she hasn’t already. I just…” She held up her hand. “Wait here, okay? I’ll be right back.”
    Before Claire could say anything, the girl took off toward the back.
    Claire adjusted her bag on her shoulder and looked at the inventory in the glass case. There were several pies, a couple of cakes, along with loaves of bread. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten all day. She’d been too nervous to have anything on the plane.
    Maybe she could get some of that rosemary garlic bread and then stop at a deli for—
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing here?”
    Claire looked at the man walking toward her. He was big and rough looking, with tanned skin and the kind of body that said he either did physical work for a living or spent too much time at a gym. She did her best not to wrinkle her nose at the sight of his plaid shirt and worn jeans.
    â€œI’m Claire Keyes,” she began.
    â€œI know who you are. I asked why you were here.”
    â€œActually you asked me why the ‘hell’ I was here. There’s a difference.”
    He narrowed his gaze. “Which is?”
    â€œOne question implies a genuine interest in the answer, the other lets me know that somehow I’ve annoyed you. You don’t really care why I’m here, you just want me to know I’m not welcome. Which is strange, considering you and I have never met.”
    â€œI’m friends with Nicole. I don’t have to have met you to know all I need to about you.”
    Ouch. Claire didn’t understand. If Nicole was still mad at her, why had Jesse called and implied otherwise? “Who are you?”
    â€œWyatt Knight. Nicole is married to my stepbrother.”
    Nicole got married? When? To whom?
    A deep, deep sadness followed the questions. Her own sister hadn’t bothered to tell her or invite her to the wedding. How pathetic was that?
    Emotions chased across Claire Keyes’s face. Wyatt didn’t bother to try to read them. Women and what they felt were a mystery best left unsolved by mortal man. Trying to make sense of the female mind would drive a man to drink, then kill him.
    Instead he studied the tall, slender blonde in front of him, looking for similarities to Nicole and Jesse.
    Their eyes, he thought, taking in the big, blue irises. Maybe the shape of the mouth. The hair color…sort of. Nicole’s