Easy As Pie [EBOOK]

<h3>Chapter 1</h3>
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It was dark and deliciously warm under the covers when Ginger Burnet opened her eyes. As she slowly came to consciousness, she yawned and stretched, careful to not dislodge her boyfriend’s arm from where he had it draped across her waist. She smiled to herself, there in the cosy, quiet darkness of a cold November morning, soaking in the perfection of the moment and committing it to memory.
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After a few minutes, however, Ginger knew she needed to move. Turning half over, she pressed a soft kiss to Rhys’ forehead, just under where his nutty brown curls flopped into his face. He stirred as she slipped out from under his arm, but not for long. Ginger smirked to herself as he almost immediately flipped onto his stomach, crossed his arms under the pillow and fell back asleep.
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She didn’t blame him; it wasn’t quite eight in the morning on a Saturday and the previous night had been a raucous one spent celebrating his thirty-fourth birthday. Just because she needed to be awake, didn’t mean he couldn’t sleep for a while longer.
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Gathering her clothes from the chair by her dressing table, Ginger tiptoed to the bathroom to get dressed. She had to admit to herself that she was barely awake and all she wanted was to crawl back into bed with Rhys to sleep until noon, but there were things to be done.
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It was then, as she had one leg in her black jeans, that the door opened untouched. Ginger paused, wondering if she had woken one of the other guests. The face that poked around the door, however, was closer to ground level, small, and very furry.
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Nina, one of the two blue shorthair cats that Ginger loved like children, meowed plaintively. A moment later, the door opened further as her brother Miles headbutted it and strolled into the bathroom.
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“Respectful of my privacy as always, I see,” Ginger said dryly, finishing shimmying into her jeans and pulling on her burgundy sweater. “Don’t worry, your breakfast is on the way.”
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Miles made a happy little chirp, rubbing his face on the pair of fluffy socks patterned with tiny gingerbread men that Ginger was about to put on.
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“Hey, I need those,” Ginger said gently, pulling the socks away but pausing to scritch under his chin.
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He purred, blinking slowly in contentment, his one milky green blind eye still somehow conveying his pleasure at the attention. Nina, sprawled just outside the door on the patch of floor where the pipes for the heating warmed the carpet, flicked her tail in irritation, clearly more interested in breakfast.
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“Impatient little madam,” Ginger mock scolded, closing the bathroom door behind her as she headed downstairs.
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The wooden stairs in the old stone cottage that Ginger called home creaked and groaned as she made her way downstairs. After feeding the cats in their usual spot in the old pantry she had turned into a storage space specifically for the cats, Ginger padded along the freezing cold stone floor of the hall to the door that led into the living room. Not even the heavy woven rug that ran along the hall stopped the cold from seeping into her feet.
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Cracking open the door, she was hit with a pleasant warmth and the lingering smell of last night’s party food. Bowls and plates and platters were scattered around the room, bearing the remnants of the more traditional party fare such as tortilla chips and salsa, as well as plates with a jumbled collection of the meal Ginger had made in Rhys’ honour. The woodstove set up on the cottage’s original stone fireplace still glowed with amber embers, the cast iron retaining enough heat to keep the room toasty warm despite the low temperatures outside.
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Amongst the rest of the mess, were several sleeping bodies all piled up on pillows, sofas, and a half-inflated air mattress that Ginger vaguely remembered pumping up in the early hours of the morning. She couldn’t help but smile as she scanned the sleeping forms of friends and family who had all come together to celebrate the man she loved.
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Closing the door into the living room carefully behind her, Ginger crept around where her brother Valerian, or Ryan as he preferred, was sprawled on a heap of pillows, fast asleep. He stirred slightly, one foot lightly kicking the air mattress where Ginger’s good friend Bonnie was curled up with her wife Mariah.
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Making sure not to disturb any of them, Ginger made her way into the kitchen, closing the door behind her before setting the kettle on to boil. She yawned as she made herself a pot full of peppermint tea, flicking through her social media and emails while she waited for it to brew.
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“Ah, a few more to add to the block list,” she muttered, finding several trolling comments and unpleasant messages. “The price of success. Or rather the price of having several very famous people promote your business to the point that it brings all the weirdos in.”
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It was a new development in her strange life, that was for sure. A catering job for an old art tutor of hers had turned into a deadly game of hide and seek on a private island. The experience had left her with even more trust issues than before, but also several very high-profile celebrity fans.
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She glanced at the clock as she finished blocking the trolls, noting she didn’t have very long to get out of the house if she wanted to be sure that she wasn’t late.
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Setting the kettle on to boil again, Ginger dug around in the fridge, taking out a tray of chocolate pumpkin bread and a box of apple and cinnamon muffins that she had made for the post-party breakfast. After wrapping a piece of each in some foil for her own breakfast, she set both the trays to warm in the proving drawer of the oven on a low heat. She then made a very large pot of French press coffee, set out several bowls of homemade winterberry compote, and a jug of vanilla cream.
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Just as she was in the process of pouring her sufficiently brewed peppermint tea into a flask to take with her, the kitchen door opened, and the short, very sleepy-looking figure of Maggie MacFelder wandered in.
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Her usually sleek black bob was rumpled and sticking out in all directions, and the glittery make-up framing her dark brown eyes was smudged. Ginger had known her for several years now, ever since the two of them had survived a hellish murder house together, but this hungover, dazed version of her friend was a sight she didn’t often see.
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“Good morning,” Ginger said, trying to hide her amusement.
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“Why in the name of sweet Saturday mornings are you not only awake at this hour, but also dressed and being productive?” she asked, her Scottish accent particularly thick and rough first thing in the morning.
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“I’ve got a meeting with a contractor over at the Lambington shop,” Ginger said, packing the flask and foil package of baked goods into her bag. “I should be back in a few hours, but for now I left breakfast warming and coffee brewing for everyone.”
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Maggie frowned, the strawberry cupcake piercing in her nose shifting as she wrinkled it in confusion.
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“I thought the new shop was all done and ready to open?” she asked. “You were ready to hire staff and everything.”
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Ginger rolled her eyes. “That was until I started getting weird flickers with the lights and occasional power outages. I think it might be the wiring just being old and bad in places, but I’ve got someone coming to look at it today.”
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“You know it’s completely wild that you’re already opening a second shop when you just opened The Gingerbread House this summer?” Maggie said with a yawn, wandering over to inspect the breakfast prep. “Oh my goodness, is that pumpkin bread I smell?”
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“It’s in the warming drawer,” Ginger said with a chuckle. “Should be ready in a few minutes and I figured the smell would rouse people soon enough.”
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“Have I ever told you that you’re one of my favourite people ever?” Maggie asked, beginning to take down plates from the cabinet to warm in the drawer beside the goodies.
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“I seem to remember you threatening to fight Rhys last night if he was ever anything other than nice to me,” Ginger whispered from the doorway, not wanting the other sleeping guests to be disturbed. “Which I thought was delightful, if a bit full-on considering that it was his birthday.”
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“I stand by it,” Maggie said stubbornly. “Now go to your meeting, even though it’s disgustingly cold and dark out there, so you can come back and have coffee with us while Rhys opens the rest of his presents.”
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“All right, all right.” Ginger raised her hands, backing out of the kitchen. “I’ll be back as quick as I can.”
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“Can’t promise there will be any food left when you get back,” Maggie stage-whispered after her.
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Warmed by such a wonderful start to the day, Ginger didn’t feel the cold and the slight rain as she hurried to her car.
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How could she complain about an early start when she was finally living the life she’d always wanted?