Coming Consumed: Welcome to Carson, Book Three Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  More Books by Renee Harless

  Acknowledgements

  Sneak Peek of Coming Altered

  Renee Harless

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2017 Renee Harless

  This work is one of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination. All trademarked items included in this novel have been recognized as so by the author. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited. If you find yourself in possession of a pirated copy reach out to the author or legal action can be taken.

  The author recognizes “Tubthumping” as a copyrighted work by Chumbawamba and under no circumstances passes the work off as her own.

  All rights reserved

  Amazon Edition

  Cover Design and Formatting: Porcelain Paper Designs

  Photographs: Shutterstock, Pixabay

  Website: reneeharless.com

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  Instagram: @Renee_Harless

  Twitter: @Renee_Harless

  Newsletter: www.reneeharless.com

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  More Books by Renee Harless

  Acknowledgements

  Sneak Peek of Coming Altered

  YDNEY BRUSHES ASIDE HER worry and straightens the cloth that rests upon the wooden slats of the secondhand table one more time. She is planning a nice, romantic dinner for herself and her boyfriend Caleb in celebration of his promotion at work.

  Caleb is a police officer in the city of Raleigh, where she attends the International Culinary School at the Art Institutes of Raleigh-Durham. She had met him outside of a coffee shop across the street from campus where he had been making his rounds. Sydney had dropped her notebook and he stopped his patrol car to help her retrieve the multitude of notes that had fallen from it. Though he is seven years her senior, age meant little and the two had become inseparable.

  As she started her final year in the culinary program, Caleb had suggested that they move in together. The pair quickly found a small, one-bedroom apartment close to campus, and neither had looked back.

  Sydney had felt overwhelmingly proud of Caleb when he called her earlier to mention the promotion. She had wanted to call her mom and dad immediately, but decided against it. They weren’t even aware that she had a boyfriend, much less a man she was living with. Sydney didn’t know why she was so apprehensive in telling her family about Caleb, she just – was. She was never one to draw attention to herself, especially in their large family of six kids, so she left the garnering of the family’s praises to her siblings.

  A knock at the door startles Sydney and she rushes over to answer.

  “Hello, can I help you?” she asks, suddenly wishing she had peered out the fish lens peephole of the apartment door before opening it to the abnormally tall man before her, dressed in a somber dark suit with matching sunglasses.

  Something about his stance makes her uneasy, but her breath is steady and pulse normal as she tries to regain control of her nerves. She takes a little breath to speak again before spotting the switchblade that is tucked behind the palm of his hand. Sydney grips the handle of the door tighter, fear coursing rapidly through her veins.

  “We just need to send a little message.”

  “To whom?” she replies, trying unsuccessfully to shut him out as the man in black grabs the edge of the door with his free hand.

  Sydney tries to push harder against the handle, but finds to her horror that the door doesn’t budge. The man’s beady eyes slink across her skin and he smiles wickedly, showcasing a set of crooked yellowing teeth. Sydney has to fight the bile as it rises in her throat at his leery gaze.

  “To your boyfriend, cupcake. Tell him he better keep his mouth shut, or we’ll do worse.”

  Before Sydney has a chance to do anything more than purse her lips and furrow her brow in confusion, the stranger before her makes a fast slicing motion, wordlessly drawing the metal across her skin, cutting a deep gash into the vulnerable flesh of her left wrist.

  She cries out, gripping her arm with her other hand and tugging the wounded limb close to her body, evaluating the damage. Sydney gasps in pain and fear, then raises her eyes to face her attacker, but finds him already retreating towards his car at a nearly inhuman pace.

  Unsure of her next move, Sydney launches herself towards the kitchen and wraps a clean dishtowel around the wound, then grabs her cell phone and begins double checking the locks on the door and windows.

  She dials Caleb first, but after several rings, there is still no answer. Sydney glances down at the towel, red stains blossoming against the checkered fabric, and shudders as she takes a deep breath, trying to fight the light-headedness that is quickly overtaking her.

  Blurry-eyed, she presses the green “Call” button of her cell phone and tries to connect with Caleb’s office line instead, hoping against all hope that he answers.

  As the ringing tone sings in her ear, Sydney loses her battle with the pain. She drops down to the floor, her weight pressing against the heavy front door, and she sighs. With one last-ditch effort she searches for the nine on her keypad to dial the emergency number but her efforts are futile as her world fades to black.

  YDNEY RESTS BACK AGAINST the chair in her office, sighing heavily as she skims through the seemingly bottomless pile résumés. Her eyes burn from another sleepless night that was spent tossing and turning, the weight of this position resting heavily on her shoulders. She is in dire need of a head chef to take over The Grill expansion of her business; otherwise, she can’t go any farther with the construction.

  She is so proud of what she’s done with the small bakery in the two years since she purchased it outright from her mother. Wake and Bake had been her mother’s dream, and it quickly became her own as a child. All she had ever wanted was to be a baker and chef. Sure, Sydney could cook circles around most of the big name culinary experts, but baking was her true calling, her passion. She has never had any problem waking up at four in the morning to start a batch of pastries and cupcakes, or staying at the shop well past the close of business at five, working hard at creating something new and amazing. Baking was not work - it was her joy. This café was not a business - it was her life.

  The walls are painted a pale yellow and large picture windows grace each side of the door. Sydney had hung taupe curtains she found online that had recipes written in cursive sprawled across the fabric – they looked as though someone’s grandmother had penned the words. She thought they were the neatest thing she had ever seen and loved them at first glance. She had then replaced her mother’s dining sets with more comfortable parson chairs and wrought iron tables –
lending the bakery more of a bistro feel. Her father had custom-made a large bookshelf that overtook the far side wall next to the check-out counter. Upon its hand-carved shelves, Sydney stored local and popular national books so people could relax while they ate in her shop. The bakery is everything to Sydney, and she wants that passion to show.

  It was everything she had ever dreamt of, until she woke up one morning and decided to take a leap of faith and purchase the empty building next to hers. She had the overwhelming desire to expand Wake and Bake by opening a diner-type grill that would be open for a light breakfast and lunch.

  Everything had been going perfectly. The loan was approved, a menu created, a sign had even been made. The only problem now was finding the right person to run the culinary end. She knew she would run herself ragged if she even attempted to manage both the bakery and The Grill.

  She had already interviewed six people and had been disappointed with each one. The first three didn’t even make it back to the office; they were stuck on how small the town was after coming in from bigger cities like Seattle and Boston.

  Despite what others said, she had never felt like Carson was a small town. Quaint? Yes. Small? Not quite. She liked that everyone knew everything going on; strangers were easily spotted in the community. This alone was something for which, after the event that left her scarred and almost constantly afraid, she would be forever grateful.

  Sydney glances back down at the list of references the current applicant submitted, and she knew she is going to have to call him: Dylan Bennett. He had strolled into her bakery about two months ago, out of the blue, asking her about the “Help Wanted” sign in her window. It took Sydney a collective five minutes to drag her chin off the floor and respond. He smiled when she told him about her plans for The Grill, and Sydney suddenly found herself suffocating on her own gasp. No man should look so good behind a smile. Even with his chin covered in a neatly-trimmed beard. She couldn’t help but notice his glistening white teeth, one of which had a cute little chip on the corner.

  Dylan had filled out his application that same day and returned it with a full list of references.

  What am I going to do? She asks herself, peering over his paperwork.

  Dylan is by far the most qualified candidate she has received an application from, but something about him nags at her. It isn’t that he looks like a bad-boy cover model who graces some of her favorite books, or that the day he turned in his application he sent shivers down her spine when he reached across her counter to grab a pen. Sydney couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something about him that held a secret.

  Resolving herself to act like an adult, she picks up the phone and dials the number at the top of the application, knowing that she needs to have the best team behind her to succeed – pride be damned. She keeps her fingers crossed that he doesn’t answer, but luck isn’t on her side and he answers after the second ring.

  “Hello?” his raspy voice inquires from his end of the line, the deepness causing Sydney to clench her legs closer together as she sits in her leather office chair.

  “Dylan?” she responds a moment later, a husky edge to her voice betraying her.

  “Yes, Sydney.”

  “Oh, how did you know it was me?” she asks, sitting up straight and leaning her arms on her desk.

  “I would know your voice anywhere.”

  “Huh,” Sydney replies more to herself than to Dylan.

  “Can I help you with something? Anything?” the beautiful man says, hinting at more than an interview; her cheeks burn with heat and turn a heavy shade of pink.

  “I…uh…would like to schedule a formal interview with you for the head chef position at The Grill. That is, if you’re still interested.”

  “I am still very interested.”

  A shiver races down Sydney’s back as he emphasizes the word very with his smooth vibrato.

  “Ok, good. What day and time would work for you?”

  “Whenever you’re available. I don’t have anything holding me back right now.”

  “Um, would tomorrow work for you? I’m free for a few hours in the afternoon since Jessica, my assistant, will be here.”

  “Sure that will work. I can be there around two.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Bennett. I will see you then.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing you, Sydney,” Dylan adds before she has the chance to end the call.

  Of course, his parting words leave her wondering if they hinted at more than just politeness.

  Tossing the application and phone on her desk, Sydney leans back in her chair and rests her hands on the top of her head as she feels a strange sense of energy overtake her.

  Damn, he even has me feeling…giddy.

  The rest of the afternoon creeps by slowly and though Sydney leaves Wake and Bake that night completely exhausted, instead of finding the peaceful calmness of sleep, she is left tossing and turning for the second night in a row until her alarm sounds at 4am.

  For the first time since Sydney took over Wake and Bake from her mother, she dreads opening up her shop.

  Like many of the residents who owned a shop along Main Street in Carson, North Carolina, Sydney had purchased a house on the outskirts of the thoroughfare so that she was close to her business. She had purchased the cute, three bedroom bungalow a year ago after her brother Austin and his best friend Logan had flipped the dilapidated property. It was a beautiful green craftsman with white and cream details, and she had fallen in love at first glance. It also helped that they had allowed her to pick out the hard wood floors, paint, and fixtures. The house felt more like a new construction than it did a one hundred year-old property.

  Sydney sits up in bed and shakes out her wild mane of honey blonde hair. No matter whether she leaves it straight, tied back, or braided, she has struggled her entire life to maintain the thick pile of strands on her head. For this reason, she typically has it tied back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck.

  After taking a quick shower and trying to dress at least somewhat appropriately for an interview, she huffs as she glances at herself in the full-length mirror that rests in the corner of her bedroom. There is little that make-up can do to hide the bags under her eyes or the redness around her irises - sleeplessness is not kind to her.

  Thirty minutes later, she turns the key to the back door of her shop and makes her way to her office. She typically walks the trek from her home to her shop, especially when it is nice outside as it seems like it would be today. The walk gives her a chance to think about what concoctions she wants to bake for the day and mentally go over her schedule. Today though, her mind is elsewhere. All she can focus on is the first time she met Dylan, two months prior. The way her hand tingled when Dylan had accidently brushed his fingers against hers as he handed her the application; the sly wink he left with her as he departed the shop that same day.

  Her mind is completely twisted up in the man and there seems to be precious little she can do but try to push thoughts of him aside. For the past few weeks, she had been thinking about him off and on, and the only solution she had found to bring herself back to the present was to bake.

  Today, Sydney decides to focus on the banana nut muffins and blackberry scones she plans on preparing for the breakfast crowd; she knows she can make them with her eyes closed, a perfect choice since her brain isn’t exactly cooperating today.

  Walking into the bakery’s kitchen, she throws a custom Wake and Bake apron over her clothes and gets to work making the baked goods, using the recipe that is buried deep within her mind.

  After the two sets of carb-filled yumminess are placed into the oven, she changes her focus and begins making three more sets of muffins and scones, in addition to the cookies that some of her patrons like to grab with their coffees in the morning.

  Baking seems to be the only distraction that keeps Dylan from her mind, and Sydney smirks as she loses herself in dough and flour.

  An hour later, Sydney’s office alarm
chimes, alerting her that she has thirty minutes before she needs to open up shop. She moves her way over to the industrial coffee machine and makes sure that it is ready for the day by tossing in the coffee beans and adding water.

  After verifying that everything is clean and prepped, Sydney washes her hands and walks around the front counter to unlock the door, where her favorite people wait to pick up their much-needed breakfast and coffee.

  Sydney loves her job, she really does, but days like today, where everyone seems to notice that she is tired, leave her strained and wishing she could go back to her home to recoup. But being the boss and main employee means that there isn’t anyone else to hand the reins over to. She is at Wake and Bake come hell or high water – sickness, hangover, or lack of sleep be damned. But when that pretty little bell jingles on the back door of the shop, Sydney sighs with relief. Jessica is here and she can help Sydney finish up the lunch crowd, which has now swirled its way around the sidewalk outside her shop.

  Without glancing behind her, Sydney finishes ringing up Ms. Temple Fitzgerald for her afternoon cup of Joe while she hollers, “Jessica, if you could take the cookies off the cooling rack and put them in the display case, that would be great. Then you can take over for me at the register. I need to get those mini cakes in the oven for the Lady Busy Bees.”

  Sydney reaches across the counter to hand Ms. Fitzgerald her change and notices the older woman, as well as the rest of the customers, staring behind Sydney with mouths agape. Against her better judgment, Sydney turns around to see what has garnered everyone’s attention.

  Her eyes widen in surprise and her chest constricts in both fear and excitement as Sydney whispers in the understatement of the year, “You’re not Jessica.”

  YLAN CAN’T HELP BUT bask in the shocked expression on Sydney’s face as she realizes that he – not Jessica - is the one who has come into her amazing shop: an expression that is mirrored by all of her customers as well.

  He knew it was a risk to come in the back way of the bakery, but he had been sitting in his car outside the shop for the better part of the morning, waiting for an opportunity to go inside.