I do want more of those cookies. I’ve dreamed of them—I refuse to acknowledge the part where the baker of said cookies is feeding them to me naked in those dreams, especially if he’smarried.
“Your van should be unlocked, yes, and I… I’ll eat pretty much anything.”
“Perfect. Be right back.” Saint ambles out the front door and grabs a heavy duty cooler from the back, along with a Tupperware container full of cookies.
When he comes back inside, we sit at two chairs separated by a small coffee table. He sets the cooler on the ground and unloads the contents.
“You just have a full meal in your van?” I muse out loud.
He chuckles, handing me a wrapped sandwich. “Ruby always packs me enough food to survive if I get stranded somewhere when I’m running errands.”
“Ruby sounds like a great… wife?”
Saint’s eyebrows knit together before a laugh rumbles out of him. A deep belly laugh that has my skin prickling and a shiver running down my spine. “Oh, lord, no. Ruby isn’t my wife. She’s my pain-in-the-ass sister who I love very much.”
I don’t want to examine why that fills me with relief.
“Ah, well she can’t be too much of a pain if she’s packing you food like this.”
Saint chuckles again. “She’s not. Our business wouldn’t survive without her expertise. Hell, I wouldn’t have a business at all if she hadn’t bullied me into trying.” The fondness and appreciation in his voice makes it evident how much he loves her, and a pinch of longing settles in my heart.
I’ve never had anyone I was that close to. I had friends growing up, sure, but I never had a best friend, let alone a sibling. It was just me and my dad. I have Kelly, too, but she’s more of a pseudo-mom.
I reach across him to grab a packet of mayo, ripping it open with my teeth and slathering it on the bread. “So you own the bakery together?”
Saint smears mustard on his bread. “We own a combination bakery and café of sorts. Ruby makes the savory stuff. Sandwiches, soups, wraps, salads, et cetera, and I make the baked goods.”
I nod, taking a bite of the sandwich. I nearly moan when I get a mouthful of the bread. It’s soft and fluffy with some type of herb swirl throughout adding flavor to every bite. “That’s really cool. Did she make the bread? It’s heavenly.”
He gives me a lopsided grin. “No, I’m in charge of the bread, even if it’s technically savory. This is my infamous garlic herb french bread. Best used to make cheesy bread and sandwiches.”
“Well, I give it a ten—no—eleven out of ten. I may have to make the trip to Cupid’s Cove just to get more of this.”
Our eyes meet, the dark green of his sweatshirt brings out the small flecks of green mixed with the brown. “I’ll bring you some whenever you’d like.”
I try to laugh it off as a joke, but he doesn't join me. I get the impression he’s serious, which is crazy. Why would he drive all the way here to bring me bread? It would make more sense for me to drive there, but I can’t, not just for bread.
I could go for breadandcookies. That would be reasonable.
Saint’s gaze darts down to my lips. I must have some mayo on them, so I swipe my tongue across, his eyes tracking the movement before he shifts, looking away and taking a bite of his sandwich.
It feels like the temperature got turned up fifteen degrees.
I expect to sit in awkward silence while we wait for Patrick, but Saint surprises me by making conversation.
“How long have you been a mechanic?”
“Five years. Almost six.”
“That’s cool. How long is schooling to be a mechanic?”
“I had two options: a one year certificate program or a two year associate program. I opted for the associate because I wanted more education.”
“Is there a specific reason for that?”
I shrug. “I wanted to make sure I learned everything I could before I entered the job force. Plus, an associate degree looks better on resumes.”
“That makes sense. I took a baking class in college as an elective, but I never thought I’d use it. If I tried to get a job at a bakery I didn’t own, I don’t think anyone would hire me.” The humor in his voice helps ease some of the tension I’m still holding onto.
