All of Me: A Small Town Romance (The Bridesmaids Club Book 1)

Chapter 1

Tess stared at the cartons of buttermilk she'd left on the counter overnight. By mistake.

She wouldn't panic. She'd strutted down the runways of top fashion houses wearing haute couture masterpieces. She would not cry over a little sour milk.

Except it wasn't a little. It was her last four quarts. She'd promised the Groovy Grans Motorcycle Club she'd have blueberry buttermilk pancakes ready for them when they roared into town. She checked her watch. In less than an hour, fifteen unhappy grans would be standing in her café, wondering what had happened to their breakfast.

She needed buttermilk, and she needed it fast. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her jacket. Safeway would be open. She could race across Bozeman, buy the buttermilk and be back in fifteen minutes. She'd make the pancakes, then start on the muffins, cakes, and pies for her other customers.

Opening the front door, she raced across to her car, then remembered her wallet. It was sitting on the kitchen counter. With a sigh, she fumbled inside her pockets, searching for the keys to the café. They weren't there.

This couldn't be happening. It really couldn't. Hurrying back to the café, she turned the handle on the front door, hoping for a miracle.

It was locked. Resting her head against the glass, she tried to think like a logical, mature, twenty-nine-year-old instead of the ditzy blond who needed to break into her own business.

"Is everything okay?"

She looked sideways and sighed. Logan Allen, award-winning reporter, and the one man guaranteed to make a good day turn bad, stood beside her.

"Tess?"

"I'm fine." She let go of the door handle. Logan had been running. Sweat trickled down his face and wet his T-shirt, sticking it to his wide chest and bulging biceps. Not that she was looking. Not much anyway.

She refused to find his dark hair and deep brown eyes attractive. For most of her life, she'd been surrounded by male models who were so gorgeous they took her breath away. But she'd learned the hard way that a handsome face could hide a heart of stone.

Logan's gaze traveled over her flushed cheeks. "You don't look fine. You look...frazzled."

"That's a big word for five-thirty in the morning," she said sweetly. "You could use it in one of your stories."

"Yeah. A homicide. Blond café owner found dead in the street after insulting a reporter."

Tess sighed. "Your ability to pluck a story out of thin air constantly amazes me."

Logan crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Now that we're over our first insults of the day, do you want to tell me what's going on?"

"I need buttermilk for pancakes, except I left my wallet in the café."

"Let me guess. Your front door keys are sitting in the café, too?"

She glared at the smile on his face. "I'll check my car. I usually keep a spare set in there." Crossing the sidewalk, she opened the passenger door and searched through the glove compartment. When they weren't there, she hunted under the seat, beside the seat, anywhere she could think of.

"Have you checked the trunk?"

She pulled herself out of the car. "Why would I leave them in there?"

"I don't know. Maybe you dropped them when you were stashing a dead body inside. Or you could have left them there when you were unloading your groceries like the rest of us mere mortals."

Tess kept her lips clamped tight. She didn't have time to bicker with him. She opened the trunk and dropped her car keys into her pocket. "What is it with you and dead bodies? Has something happened that you're not telling me about?"