Chapter 8

Dakota sat up.

Flavors. If he truly wanted to make a splash with this cake he needed a good flavor combination. Something told him chocolate or vanilla or yellow cake wouldn’t do. It was time he got fancy. Practically jumping off the couch, he made haste to his bedroom, yanking open the very bottom drawer of the dresser. Secreted away underneath pairs of jeans and a handful of slacks was a non-descript notebook. Honestly, why he stuck it there was beyond him. It’s not like anyone was going to steal into his place and swipe it.

Dakota sank onto the bed and flipped open the cover. The first page brought a ghost of a smile to his lips. It was a rough pen sketch of what he wanted his future bakery to look like, done, according to the date, nearly six years ago now. At that time he was working up in Maine for a lobster man, turned out, trapping poor lobsters to serve up on a platter didn’t sit well with him. So he moved on. Again.