Sugar Valley: 4-Book Steamy Romance Bundle

Chapter 1
Hudson

Another fat bead of sweat snakes its way down the side of my face, quickly disappearing into the collar of my workout shirt. I’ve been trying to keep my heavy breathing to a minimum, but there’s only so much I can do.

Tensing my jaw, I exhale another hot breath.

This shit is fucking hard.

The forty-pound dumbbells clenched in my hands feel heavier with every curl. My arms are burning like they’re both on fire. If I didn’t have a good reason to be here or a hard deadline to reach my goal, there’s a good chance I would’ve already called it quits by now.

In hindsight, it would have been a lot easier to start these workouts months ago, back when the invitation to my twenty-year high school reunion showed up in the mail from my hometown. But for a while, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go. It wasn’t until I heard from a few old friends asking if I would be there that I realized I couldn’t miss such a monumental event.

And if I’m going to show up, I’m sure as hell not going to show up with the gut I’ve got.

Even though my arms feel like they might fall off any second, I endure the agony of a final few curls before dropping the dumbbells back on their rack. Blowing out an exhausted breath, I grab my towel and wipe it across my forehead, taking a moment to recover as I glance around the gym.

It’s a compact gym—just one main room outfitted with various workout equipment—and the only one in the small town of Sugar Valley. At the moment, only a few other people are using the facility, which I appreciate for a couple reasons: it means fewer people around to stare at the chunky nearly-forty-year-old dude trying to get back in shape, and it also means I’m free to choose whatever equipment I want to use next.

My eyes land on the treadmills on the other side of the room, and I head in that direction. I’m not looking forward to the cardio part of my self-designed workout plan, but I know how important it is if I want to shed these extra pounds.

I step onto a pebbled belt that feels too thin for my bulk and stab the red button to turn on the machine. The belt jerks to life beneath my feet. I ramp up the speed to force myself into a slow jog, and after a few minutes of warming up my legs, I increase the speed until I’m at a full-on run.

The thunderous pounding of my feet makes me cringe, but I try to not feel self-conscious about it. I’m a burly guy. Of course I’m going to make some noise when working out.

I make myself think about other things to take my mind off it anyway. I think about how accomplished I’ll feel when I’m done with this workout. I think about the hot shower I’ll take to wash all this sweat off my skin. I think about how good it will feel to walk out of those gym doors, knowing I put my all into the last hour. Once I’m done with the gym, I’ll get in my truck and—

What about the curvy beauty next door? Come on, man. Don’t pretend like you aren’t going to go over there.

A fresh bead of sweat runs down my neck as I think about the goddess I saw when I was on my way to the gym. She was working in the bakery next door, wearing a little polka dot apron that did little to hide her generous figure.

I couldn’t get as clear of a look as I would’ve liked, with the glass between us and my feet forcing me on, but what I did see made my heart practically stop: with her curly dark hair, light brown skin, and a smile that lit up her whole face, goddamn, she was a sight to behold. Especially with that sweet smile. Not that she was smiling at me—she didn’t notice me staring at her. She was too busy helping her customers, ringing them up as she made what I can only imagine was friendly small talk.

Since that moment, she’s remained in the back of my mind. I’ve pushed myself extra hard over the last hour because of her. I haven’t even met her yet, and I don’t even know her name, but something about her has me enraptured.

I can’t explain why I feel this way. Can’t explain why she’s brought such intensity out in me.

I just know I want to be her man, and I want her to be my woman.

***

Five grueling miles later, I stagger off the treadmill with cramping legs, burning lungs, and a shirt drenched in sweat. One of the gym employees shoots me a big grin and two thumbs up as I make my way past him.

“Doing great, man!” he says.

“Thanks,” I manage to grunt out, dragging a towel over my slick forehead.

In the small locker room in the back, I peel off my workout clothes and step beneath one of the showerheads. The heavy stream feels so good that I could easily stand under it for the rest of the day. But I only take as long of a shower as I need to get clean, and then I dry off and get dressed in my street clothes.

Heading out of the gym, I give a friendly wave to the gym staff, calling out, “Have a good one!”

Ten minutes ago I felt like I was close to keeling over from overexertion, but now that it no longer hurts to breathe, I feel good. Sure, one day isn’t actually going to make my clothes fit any better, but right now it sure feels like it’s already made a world of difference. It’s like I feel more fucking alive.

I inhale a deep breath, drawing fresh air into my lungs. Along with all that fresh air comes the alluring scent of baked goods—drawing my attention to the bakery that has never entirely left my mind.

A sugary treat is the last thing I need right now. It would undo, so quickly, all the calories I just worked so hard to burn off. I’m not about to give in to that particular temptation, as beckoning as it is.

But my other desire? The one that involves introducing myself to that beauty behind the counter?

That one I want to—need to—indulge in.

With decisive footsteps, I stride away from the gym and over to the bakery next door. The shop’s window is decorated with curly gold lettering that announces the name of the place—Nothing Bundt Love—and numerous bundt cakes are displayed on colorful stands of varying heights. Some of the cakes are marbled, some are glazed with icing, some are studded with small pieces of fruit. Each is distinctively shaped with uniquely grooved sides.

This bakery looks like a little pocket of heaven, tucked right into the middle of Sugar Valley.

The woman who I haven’t been able to shake from my mind is still behind the counter, still in her polka dot apron, tying twine around a pink pastry box for a customer.

Standing here, drinking in the sight of this exceedingly beautiful woman, my blood is pumping hard. And it’s not from the workout anymore. It’s purely because of her. It’s pumping hard through my veins, hard through my heart—and going straight down to my cock, too.

I sure hope she likes bigger boys.

The customer who just paid for her cake is coming toward the door now, and I step toward it, opening the door for her.

“Thank you,” she says, smiling at me as she walks out.

I nod, then step inside the bakery. There’s a handful of other customers inside, all waiting in line. I’m glad the business is doing well and is staying busy, yet I wish none of these other people were here. I want my beautiful baker all to myself.