“Saint,” he repeated, unbothered.
I raised an eyebrow.“Like… an actual saint?”
“Like my name,” he replied.
Fair enough.
As I finished the order slip, the bell jingled again.
This time, the tension that slid down my spine had nothing to do with attraction.
I didn’t look at the door.I didn’t have to.I knew that presence the way you know a storm before the clouds roll in.
“Belle,” a voice drawled.“We need to talk.”
My hands went cold.
Saint straightened slowly, his body language changing so subtly I almost missed it.He didn’t turn around, but something about him went still.Alert.
I forced myself to look.
The man standing just inside the door wore a cheap coat and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.He’d been here before.Too many times.
“Now’s not a good time,” I said evenly.
He glanced at the customers waiting, at Saint’s broad back, then back at me.“Won’t take long.”
“It will,” I said.“And you’re not welcome.”
Saint turned then, finally, his gaze locked onto the man like he’d found a target.The shift was immediate and unmistakable.
Danger didn’t always shout.Sometimes it stood quiet and steady behind you.Or in this case, in front of me.
The man hesitated.
“Problem?”Saint asked calmly.
The loan shark, because that was what he was, no matter how he dressed it up, laughed.“Nah.Just business.”
Saint’s eyes flicked to me.Just once.A question.
I shook my head.
“I don’t think she’s got time for you,” Saint said.“She’s working.”
The man looked him up and down, calculating.“This doesn’t concern you.”
Saint smiled.It wasn’t friendly.“Yeah,” he said.“It does.”
For a moment, I thought things might explode right there between the gingerbread men and the sugar cookies.
Then the man scoffed, muttered something under his breath, and backed toward the door.“I’ll be back, Belle,” he told me.
The bell jingled as he left.
Silence settled over the bakery.
My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my ears.
