When Baking Goes Boom
Chapter One: When Baking Goes Boom
The chocolate chip cookies were plotting against me. I could feel it.
They sat there in the oven, all innocent and golden, but I knew better. After three years of running Luna’s Enchanted Bakery, I’d learned to spot trouble before it happened. And right now? Every magical instinct I had was screaming danger, danger, Will Robinson!
“Luna, you’re doing that thing again,” Rosie called from behind the counter. She didn’t even look up from her laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard as she updated our social media. “The thing where you glare at perfectly normal cookies like they personally insulted your grandmother.”
“They’re not normal cookies,” I muttered, wiping flour-covered hands on my apron. The storm raging outside made the whole bakery feel electric. Not the good kind of electric, like when your crush texts you back immediately. More like the oh-crap-I’m-about-to-get-struck-by-lightning kind.
Thunder crashed overhead, and every light in the shop flickered. The cookies in the oven started glowing.
Not metaphorically glowing. Actually, literally, holy-moly-why-are-my-baked-goods-radioactive glowing.
“Rosie?” My voice came out way too high. “Remember how you’re always saying I need to add more pizzazz to our marketing?”
“Yeah?” She finally looked up, pushing her cute glasses up her nose. Then she saw the oven. “Oh. Oh no. Luna, please tell me you didn’t accidentally—”
“I didn’t mean to!” The words tumbled out in a rush. “I was just thinking about how boring regular chocolate chip cookies are, and maybe people would like something more exciting, and then the storm started, and you know how weather messes with my—”
Another lightning strike. The cookies glowed brighter.
Much brighter.
Like, visible-from-space bright.
“What exactly were you thinking about?” Rosie asked, her voice deadly calm. She’d perfected that tone during her corporate days, back when she had to deal with clients who thought Excel spreadsheets were a form of modern art.
I bit my lip. “Maybe... possibly... I might have been wishing our customers could feel what true love actually tastes like?”
Silence. Even the storm seemed to pause.
Then Rosie started laughing. Not cute, tinkling laughter. Full-on, bent-over-double, tears-streaming-down-her-face cackling.
“You turned chocolate chip cookies into magical love potions?” she wheezed. “During a thunderstorm? Luna, honey, you do realize what happens when your magic goes haywire during storms, right?”
Before I could answer, the oven timer went off. The cheerful ding! sounded way too innocent for what was about to happen.
I grabbed my oven mitts—the ones Grandma Iris had enchanted for me before she... well, before. They were covered in little silver moons and stars, and they hummed with protective magic. Right now, they felt like the only thing standing between me and a complete disaster.
“Maybe they’re fine,” I said, reaching for the oven door. “Maybe the glow is just, you know, artistic ambiance.”
The second I opened the oven, golden light poured out like I’d discovered the lost treasure of El Dorado. The smell hit me next—chocolate and vanilla and something that made my heart do little backflips. Something that smelled like first kisses and Sunday morning cuddles and the way rain sounds on a roof when you’re safe inside with someone you love.
“Holy cannoli,” I breathed.
“Luna.” Rosie’s voice had gone from calm to we-are-so-dead. “Those cookies are floating.”
She was right. All twenty-four cookies had lifted off the baking sheet and were doing lazy pirouettes in the air, trailing sparkles like tiny, edible fairy godmothers.
“Okay,” I said, trying to stay positive. “So they’re a little... enthusiastic. That’s not necessarily bad, right? Maybe people will think it’s a fun marketing gimmick.”
That’s when the first cookie decided to make a break for it.
It zoomed past my head like a sugary missile, heading straight for the front window. I lunged after it, but magical baked goods are surprisingly fast. The cookie hit the glass with a soft thwap and stuck there, still glowing, still trailing sparkles.
Mrs. Henderson from the post office happened to be walking by. She stopped, stared at the glowing cookie plastered to our window, then looked at me through the glass. I gave her a weak wave.
She pulled out her phone and started taking pictures.
“We are so screwed,” Rosie said.
The rest of the cookies must have heard her, because they all decided to join the escape party. They scattered like golden confetti, zipping around the bakery in chaotic loops. One got tangled in the hanging plants by the window. Another started doing barrel rolls around the ceiling fan. A third one dive-bombed the tip jar and got stuck headfirst in the coins.
“Grab them!” I shouted, jumping up to snatch a cookie that was making obscene gestures at the coffee machine. Don’t ask me how a cookie makes obscene gestures. Magic is weird like that.
Rosie was already on it, using a butterfly net we kept for exactly these kinds of emergencies. Yes, we had emergency magical-baked-goods-capture equipment. Don’t judge.
“This is worse than the Great Muffin Incident of last month,” she panted, chasing a particularly rebellious cookie around the display case.
“Hey, those muffins only sang show tunes. These are...” I paused, watching a cookie spell out what looked like dirty words in sparkly trails. “These are definitely worse.”
The bell above our door chimed, and I felt my heart sink somewhere in the vicinity of my flour-dusted shoes. We had a customer. Right now. While twenty-four magical cookies were holding our bakery hostage.
“Um, hi?” came a deep, unfamiliar voice. “I was wondering if you were still... open...”
I turned around, still holding a glowing cookie that was trying to wiggle out of my oven mitt, and came face-to-face with the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen.
Tall, dark hair that looked like he’d been running his hands through it, and brown eyes the color of perfect espresso. He had the kind of rugged handsomeness that belonged on book covers, complete with a little scar through his left eyebrow that made him look dangerously interesting.
He was staring at the chaos in my bakery with an expression somewhere between fascination and terror.
“This is not what it looks like,” I said quickly.
A cookie chose that moment to zoom between us, trailing sparkles and the scent of true love.
“Really?” Book Cover Guy asked, one eyebrow raised. “Because it looks like your cookies are staging a rebellion.”
“Okay, it’s exactly what it looks like,” I admitted. “But I can explain!”
Another cookie dive-bombed his head. He ducked with reflexes that seemed almost supernatural, then caught the cookie in one smooth motion. Instead of freaking out like a normal person, he just examined it curiously.
“Interesting,” he murmured. “I’ve never seen magic this... enthusiastic.”
Wait. He said magic. He said it like it was totally normal.
I glanced at Rosie, who had paused mid-chase to stare at our mysterious customer. Her expression clearly said who is this guy and why isn’t he running away screaming?
“You’re not... surprised,” I said carefully. “About the magical flying cookies.”
Book Cover Guy smiled, and my heart did something gymnastic that probably wasn’t medically safe. “Let’s just say I’ve seen stranger things. Gabriel Silvermane.” He held out his free hand, still cradling the captured cookie in the other. “And you must be Luna Blackthorne. I’ve heard a lot about your bakery.”
I shook his hand, trying to ignore the little electric shock that ran up my arm at the contact. His skin was warm, almost fever-hot, and there was something about his grip that suggested he was way stronger than he looked.
“All good things, I hope,” I said, then immediately wanted to smack myself. Way to sound like a customer service robot, Luna.
“Definitely good things.” His smile widened. “Though nobody mentioned the dinner theater aspect.”
Another cookie whizzed past, and Gabriel—Gabriel, what a perfect name—plucked it out of the air without even looking.
“Show off,” Rosie muttered, but she was grinning.
“How are you doing that?” I asked, watching him catch a third cookie with impossible ease.
“Good reflexes,” he said, which wasn’t really an answer. “Plus, they seem to like me.”
He was right. The cookies I’d been chasing around like a crazy person were practically lining up to land in his hands. Within five minutes, he’d captured half of them, and they were sitting in a neat pile on the counter, no longer glowing, looking like perfectly normal chocolate chip cookies.
“That’s...” I searched for words. “Really helpful. Thank you.”
“No problem.” He handed me the stack of cookies, and our fingers brushed. Another one of those electric shocks, stronger this time. “I was actually hoping to talk to you about catering an event.”
“Oh!” Business mode kicked in, which was good because I was starting to get distracted by the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “What kind of event?”
“A family gathering. Nothing too fancy, just...” He paused, looking almost nervous. “It’s complicated.”
Rosie had finished collecting the last few rogue cookies and was now standing behind Gabriel, making exaggerated he’s-hot faces and fanning herself with her butterfly net. I shot her a warning look.
“Complicated how?” I asked.
“Well, it’s a monthly thing. Always at night. And some of the attendees have... dietary restrictions.”
“We can work with dietary restrictions. Gluten-free, vegan, keto—”
“Raw meat,” he said quickly.
I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Some of them prefer raw meat. Fresh. Very fresh.” His cheeks were turning slightly pink. “Look, I know it sounds weird—”
“Weird is my specialty,” I interrupted, gesturing around the bakery where sparkly cookie crumbs were still settling like edible snow. “When’s the event?”
“Tomorrow night. Full moon.”
Something about the way he said full moon made my magical instincts prick up. There was weight to those words, like they meant more than just pretty sky decoration.
“How many people?” I asked.
“About twenty. Maybe thirty, depending on who shows up.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. “I should warn you, they can be a little... intense. Loud. Territorial.”
“Sounds like my kind of party,” I said, and meant it. After three years of birthday parties for six-year-olds and garden club meetings, intense and territorial sounded refreshing.
Gabriel’s smile was so bright it almost rivaled the cookies. “Really? You’ll do it?”
“Absolutely. I love a challenge.” I grabbed a notepad from behind the register. “What’s your number? I’ll call you tomorrow to go over details.”
He rattled off his number, and I tried not to notice how his voice sent little shivers down my spine. When I looked up from writing, he was studying me with an expression I couldn’t read.
“Luna?” he said quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Be careful tomorrow night. My family can be... protective. If they think you’re a threat—” He stopped, shook his head. “Just be careful, okay?”
Before I could ask what he meant, the bell chimed again and he was gone, jogging across the street through the rain like he didn’t even feel the cold.
“Okay,” Rosie said, appearing at my elbow. “What just happened?”
I stared out the window, watching Gabriel’s tall form disappear into the storm. “I think I just agreed to cater a werewolf pack meeting.”
“A what now?” Rosie’s voice went up about three octaves.
“Think about it.” I started ticking off points on my fingers. “Monthly gathering, always on the full moon, raw meat preferences, protective family, supernatural reflexes...” I gestured toward the perfectly normal-looking cookies Gabriel had somehow calmed with just his presence. “Plus, my magic reacted to him. It never does that with regular humans.”
Rosie stared at me for a long moment. Then she started laughing again.
“Only you, Luna Blackthorne, would meet the hottest guy in Vermont and immediately assume he’s a werewolf.”
“I have good instincts about these things!”
“Your instincts once told you that Mrs. Patterson was secretly a vampire because she always wore sunglasses.”
“She could still be a vampire. We never definitively proved—”
“She had cataract surgery!”
I waved her off. “Details. The point is, Gabriel Silvermane is definitely not human. And tomorrow night, I’m going to prove it.”
Thunder crashed overhead again, and every light in the bakery flickered. In the brief darkness, I could have sworn I saw a pair of golden eyes watching us from across the street.
When the lights came back on, there was nothing there.
But the scent of pine trees and wild places lingered in the air, mixing with the smell of chocolate and magic and possibilities.
I grinned at Rosie. “This is going to be so much fun.”
“We’re going to die,” she said flatly.
“Probably,” I agreed cheerfully. “But think of the story we’ll have to tell.”
Outside, lightning split the sky, and I felt my magic humming under my skin like a contented cat. Tomorrow night couldn’t come fast enough.
I just had to figure out what you serve at a werewolf dinner party.
And whether I’d survive long enough to find out if Gabriel Silvermane was as dangerous as he was gorgeous.
Spoiler alert: he was definitely both.
