“Hi,” I squeak, my excitement getting away from me. “I mean, hi. Welcome to Mindy’s Sweets. I’m Mindy. How can I satisfy your sweet tooth today?”
The taller man’s eyes narrow when he catches me looking at him; his gaze sweeps over my face, like he’s trying to put together pieces of memories he’s already long forgotten. But I could never forget him even if I tried. There’s something familiar in the tension of his jaw, and in the way his stare lingers a beat too long, making my chest tighten nervously. Even though half his face is partially concealed, those deep blue eyes make me suddenly giddy, my heart fluttering and sputtering like it doesn’t know how to function around a handsome face.
The heat in my cheeks is already creeping, and I don’t know how to stop it, so I look away, focusing on the other guy.
He hits me with a crooked smile, showing off the slight gap in his two front teeth as he runs a hand through the unkempt mop of blond locks on his head, fingers getting tangled in a mess of curls. He’s got that signature haircut most men have nowadays. Longer on top but shaved on both sides so it blends perfectly. He’s wearing a leather jacket, but his patch says prospect where the other man’s says VP. Fitting, because he definitely holds himself like someone of importance with the way hestandoffishly hovers just behind the smaller man, observing my every move.
Crooked smile shoots me a wink right before he kneels to look at my goods. It’s not flirtatious at all, just a friendly reminder that he sees me.
“This shit looks delicious,” he says in awe. “I’ll take one of those, please.” He points to one of my famous cinnamon rolls, showing off his teeth with another infectious grin. “I fucking love cinnamon rolls.”
Oof… swearing.
It’s something that makes me internally cringe every time I hear it. I pride myself on being one of the few human beings in the world who doesn’t choose to swear, choosing strategically placed food puns to make up for everyone else’s bad manners.
The taller man smacks the other one on the back of the head without warning, startling us both. “Watch your mouth, Prospect.” He meets my gaze for two seconds before looking away, his glare turning to a spot on the floor.
Weird. It’s almost like he noticed how uncomfortable I was with the other guy’s swearing, but how can that be? He’s barely looked at me without glaring since he got here.
“Hey now! What the hell was that for?” the smaller man demands, rubbing his head vigorously. The look of confusion on his face says it all; the man has no idea he’s even cussing. It’s like second nature to him.
“You’re in the presence of a lady, Prospect, so stop swearing,” the big guy says again, shifting uncomfortably before those big blue eyes reluctantly look my way. “Excuse him, Ma’am, he’s still learning his manners. Last week we took off his training wheels. Maybe next week he’ll be potty trained.” He says it gruffly and without pleasantries. In fact, he sounds more annoyed than anything else, even though what he said was funny as hell.
“Hey, I take offense to that,” the smaller one growls.
“As you should,” the bigger one exclaims, his gaze fixating on me again… lingering… igniting excited shivers that weren’t there before.
My heart flutters just a tad, cheeks burning with flushed embarrassment. Maybe it’s the leather jacket, or the bad boy: ‘I’m here to break your heart,’exterior that’s got my feminine wilds going bonkers, because I’m not usually into guys with beards and longer hair. But for whatever reason, my body hums like a thirsty lust monster for the grumpy biker.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask him, eyeing him curiously.
Has he even recognized me yet? Was I that forgettable?
Shadows shield his face as he bends down to look in the case, his longish brown hair toppling over his eyes and the strange mask he wears. The mask is a bright vibrant white, which is why the blue in his eyes stands out so vividly. They’re not just blue; they’re the kind of blue you imagine in a perfectly still lake, with water so clear you can see the bottom. His beard isn’t too messy or long, which I like. It’s short and clipped close to his chin, half of it buried beneath his mask.
His muscles tense as he grips the side of my glass case, biceps putting on a show as I jealously admire the tightly fitted black T-shirt that’s allowed to caress every part of his heavily sculpted chest. It makes me wonder what’s beneath it. From here, I count at least six abs, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s more hiding beneath the black breathable fabric. I don’t think I’d be able to breathe if it were me wound tightly wrapped around him, not when I notice the sleeve of tattoos peeking out that is partially obscured by his shirt and leather vest. I got a soft spot for tattoos, especially ones with a horror theme.
“Love your tattoos, by the way.”
He grunts, barely acknowledging me.
The younger guy slaps him on the shoulder. “Hey, she was talking to you, big guy. She says she likes your tats.”
For a brief second, his gaze shoots up to meet mine, then he goes straight back to staring at my pastries, ignoring me again.
“Forgive him. He’s not used to being around pretty girls.” He continues munching on his cinnamon roll, the frosting coating his lips. He licks it away with no shame. “Well, are you going to order something or not, VP?”
He slowly stands, his unnerving gaze sweeping over me. “I’ll take everything.”
His buddy’s jaw drops.
So does mine.
“Everything?”
He looks at the sign on the door and shrugs. “It says you close in thirty minutes, and it doesn’t look like you sold a thing. I’d hate for you to lose all that money on your opening day.”
“Are you punking me?”
