“What the hell?” he growled, straightening and waving his arms as the flock scattered. “Who the fuck comes flying in here like that?”
A hand shot out of the window, waving with an annoying amount of cheer.
“Hello!”
He froze.
The car door opened, and the woman from the bakery stepped out.
His chest tightened until it actually hurt.
She wasn’t wearing those damn yoga pants that had burned themselves into his memory.
This was worse.
A sundress. Thin straps. Light, airy fabric clinging to her body like it had been designed to test his restraint. Every curve was on display—delectable, dangerous, and utterly invitation-only.
He clenched his fists, feeling his cock pulse.
“I’m sorry for showing up unannounced,” she called, smoothing her palms down the sides of her dress as she approached. “I got your address from Arla.”
Of course she did.
He wiped his dirt-streaked hands on his worn jeans. “If you came to thank me, you wasted the gas. It was nothing.”
“No,” she said firmly, stepping closer into his space. “I didn’t come to thank you.”
That stopped him. His brow furrowed. “No?”
“I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself properly.”
A rough, jagged sound escaped him before he could stop it. “You drove all the way out here just to introduce yourself?”
Her smile faltered.
“I’m sorry if I’m bothering you,” she said quietly, her gaze dropping to the gravel.
“You’re not bothering me,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
Liar.
She bothered the hell out of him. She’d been bothering him since the moment he saw her bent over that ladder, her curves delightfully inviting his ruin.
“There was no need to drive all this way,” he added, his voice edged softer. “I already know your name.”
Her eyes widened. “You do?”
A small smile curved her mouth—and somehow that made things worse.
“Well,” she said, meeting his gaze without flinching, “I know yours, too.”
“Oh?” A low rumble edged his voice. “Do you?”
She nodded, clearly amused.
He wasn’t sure whether it was the effect of his name or the fact that they’d spent the last few minutes circling each other like this.
“Small town,” he muttered, glancing down at his boots.
