We needed to make a pretty massive chunk of money today to be able to pay off the loan shark.
I sat back and pressed my fingers to my eyes until I saw stars.
I could still do this.It was only seven in the morning.We hadn’t even opened yet.I had a full day of sales ahead of me, plus pickups, and last-minute panic buyers.People came in droves on the last open day before Christmas.
Maybe it would be enough.
Maybe.
The thought should have comforted me.
Instead, it made my chest tighten like a vice.
Because maybe wasn’t good enough when Bill McClure was the kind of man who showed up smiling and left threats hanging in the air like smoke.
I heard movement in the bakery.The soft sound of the back door opening.Boots on the floor.
I froze.
Marcy would be here soon, but not yet.Jessa and Owen wouldn’t come in for another half hour.
The dogs didn’t bark.
That told me it wasn’t a stranger.
Still, my pulse kicked.
Then I heard his voice through the door.
“Belle?”
My entire body reacted before my brain caught up.
Saint.
Of course it was Saint.
I should have been relieved.I was relieved.
And still, I didn’t move.
I stared down at the notebook on my desk, the numbers that felt like a noose tightening, and suddenly I hated the idea of Saint seeing this part of me.The ugly, desperate part.The part that made me feel like I was always one step away from losing everything I’d built.
A knock sounded.
Soft.Controlled.Like him.
“Babe,” Saint said, quieter now.“You back there?”
I swallowed hard and forced myself to stand.My legs felt stiff, like I’d been sitting for hours instead of minutes.I opened the door and stepped out into the bakery.
Saint stood near the counter, his jacket unzipped, hair damp with melted snow.He looked big in the space, like he didn’t belong in a bakery full of twinkle lights and gingerbread men, but somehow he did anyway.
His gaze swept over me quickly, like he was checking for damage.
Then his eyes narrowed.
“I’ve never seen you in that office,” he said.
