“We’ll see.”
“What do?—”
“Drive safe now. Pack an overnight bag just in case, ya never know what the weather will do. Leave his keys, and I’ll keep them in the safe and away from Rob’s hands. Don’t want him breakin’ it even more. Go on, now. I need to make a few calls.” He waves his hands in a dismissal, picking up his phone.
What the fuck?
A little dazed, I set the keys on Merv’s desk and make my way back to Saint in the lobby. He’s typing furiously on his phone when I walk through the door, but his head snaps up as soon as the door clicks shut.
Rob bursts through the front door at the same time. “Mikes, I got your favorite. I don’t know why you like lemon bars so much. Maybe the sourness is why your lips are always pursed.”
“Idon’tlike lemon bars. And don’t talk about my lips.” I turn my attention to Saint, hoping Rob takes the hint I don’t want to talk to him. “I can give you a ride back to Cupid’s Cove.”
Saint’s brow furrows, and he shakes his head. “Mikey, that’s very kind of you, but I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask. I’m offering. Merv already gave me the go-ahead.”
“You’re leaving me here by myself?” Rob whines, sounding like a spoiled brat.
“You’ll be fine. Merv’s here, so you’re not alone.”
Rob slumps back in his chair and grumbles something I don’t care about.
“Are you sure, Mikey? I don’t want to be more of an inconvenience than I already have been,” Saint says, tucking a fallen strand of sandy blonde hair behind his ear.
The truth is, I’m not sure. I think if I spend another extended period of time with this man, I’ll simply melt into a puddle. The rickety boards around my heart, which are already crumbling, will fall completely, and I’ll have to admit I may have feelings for him, and I don’t know what to do with them.
But I can’t leave him stranded here. He’s got to get back to Cupid’s Cove and bake for the festival. I can tell it’s important to him by the earnest tone of his voice.
I give him a reassuring smile. “I’m positive. It’s not an inconvenience to help out a… customer. Let’s go.” Reducing him to just a customer feels wrong, especially after he called me“sweetheart,” and I found myself flirting back. I liked it. Way too much.
Saint gives Rob a nod and follows me through the shop.
“Do you need anything from your van before we go?” I ask as we pass it.
“No, I’m good.”
“You didn’t bring me any baked goods today? Are you feeling okay?”
Saint chuckles. “I was a little preoccupied, an oversight on my part. I’ll supply you with all the baked goods you desire before I send you back home. Uh, are we leaving my keys here?”
“Oh, yes. Merv has them in a safe only Merv and I know the code to.”
Saint dramatically wipes his brow in relief and graces me with a lopsided smile. “Thank you.”
“No problem at all.” Our shoes crunch over the loose gravel in the back parking area as we reach my red and white 1980 Chevy C/K 10 Series pickup. “This is me.”
Saint whistles, impressed. “This is nice, Mikey.”
“Thank you. My dad had it in the garage for ages. He got it at an auction when I was ten and had every intention of teaching me how to work on it, but time was never on our side. When he passed, he left it to me in his will. Merv helped me restore the engine and get it running. Merv’s friend owns a body shop about ten minutes away and helped repaint it.” I run my hand over the glossy paint job. It’s not the most practical mode of transportation, I guess, but I don’t care. I don’t drive much since I usually only frequent the grocery store and work. Maybe the occasional fast food joint if I’m craving something different than a frozen meal.
That’s a sad life, Mikey Snowe.
I shake off the thought and get in the driver’s seat while Saint folds his massive frame into the passenger side. I bite my lip tostifle a giggle. The truck’s cab isn’t as small as a sedan would be, but he makes it feel tiny. The bench seat doesn’t adjust, so he has to spread his legs wide to fit comfortably.
I shouldn't find the man-spreading as hot as I do, but my stomach flutters as the thought of plopping myself in his lap and grinding on his thigh while my fingers run through his hair flits through my mind. His hair always looks soft and silky. My fingers twitch on the wheel as I picture tangling them in the strands while his beard tickles my cheeks as his lips…
“Are you going to be okay over there the whole drive?” I ask, praying my face isn’t beet red from my wayward thoughts.
