“Ah, that button.” He was familiar with that one himself.
She slanted a smile at him. “Well, you’ll see soon enough. My mom’s going to be here next week to shoot photos for the website. This mess”—she gestured down at herself, at that goddamn tissue-thin shirt—“will make a ton more sense.”
A month ago, he’d have taken her self-deprecation at its surface, but he’d spent enough time with her to catch the vulnerability in the words. “You’re not a mess.”
She laughed softly, a little sadly. “It’s nice of you to say so. But I’m mostly bad decisions and an even worse temper.”
“Don’t forget bossy.” He shot her a quick smile, hoping to tease her quicksilver mood into a happier place. He wasn’t disappointed.
“Bossy to the bone.” She ran a tongue over her lower lip and adjusted the bandanna holding back her hair. “Hey, I’m sorry I pushed you on the van magnet thing. I truly didn’t think it would bother you that much.”
He couldn’t help but return her contrite smile. She’d come a long way from her grudging apology on the L that first night. Then her lips twisted to one side. “But I still think you’ll come around to it someday.”
“Never.”
“We’ll see.” Josie blew him a kiss and whirled to head back to the front room, leaving him to stare at the magnet box.
She was right, of course. The logo was a solid, memorable brand, and putting it on the van was smart. But the memory of his mother’s obsession with fame dug its claws into his chest and chased away all rational thoughts.
With a sigh, he followed her out of the kitchen. Maybe he actually would come around to it someday. It was becoming obvious that he should never bet against Josie Ryan.
Fourteen
“I’m sure she’ll be here. Any minute now.” Josie took another turn around Erik’s tiny apartment and paused to look out the window. No fine-boned, pinched-mouthed woman hurried down the sidewalk, burdened by photography bags. The street was quiet, and Josie was furious.
Her mother was almost an hour late despite a short text the day before, confirming their Sunday appointment. But that’s not what was making her angry. No, she was good and pissed at herself for thinking Pam Ryan would make her daughter a priority for a change.
“Dammit.” The buzzing was back, the itchiness under her skin. She’d controlled her most impulsive urges fairly well over the past month, but all it took was the familiar burn of Mom-based disappointment to have her on the brink of running, shouting, fighting.
She pushed the destructive urges down and stepped away from the window, taking another lap while Erik reclined on the couch, legs stretched in front of him, an oasis of calm in the middle of her frenzy.
“Maybe she’s at the bakery?”
“No. I texted her this address last night.” Between the sanding and staining of the wooden floors upstairs, the building was safe for neither humans nor cakes this weekend, so Erik had prepped for the shoot in his apartment. “I’m sorry,” she spat out, her frustration bleeding through into her voice.
His own phone vibrated, but he ignored it to focus on her. “For what?”
The question surprised her. It even quieted the buzzing for a moment. She gestured around his apartment, empty but for the two of them and the platters and platters of gorgeous carbohydrates. “For making promises I couldn’t deliver on.” Didn’t he know by now how much she hated letting people down?
He heaved himself to his feet, causing the ugly orange-flowered couch to groan in protest, and moved to stand in front of her. God, he was big, and she wanted to sink into him, to allow those long, strong bones to hold her up so she could let go of the tense energy that propelled her forward from minute to minute.
But he didn’t touch her. He just stood inches away and hit her with his clear blue gaze. “You’ve delivered plenty for me. And I still don’t quite know why.”
“Because…” Her eyes drifted down as she tried to articulate a reason he’d understand. “Well, for one thing, I wanted to prove that I could do it.” She brushed her hands down the front of the cashmere sweater and expensive jeans she’d carefully selected that morning to present her most polished/casual/professional self for her mother’s inevitable judgment. Then she glanced up at him. “And for another thing, I like you.”
She had to smile at the confusion on his face. “Is that so surprising?”
He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Yes, actually.”
Making Erik blush was the best distraction. “I don’t understand who you were hanging out with before you met me. Do your friends not see how clever you are? How thoughtful?”
His gaze dropped to the floor. “Not many, no.”
His bashful confusion was adorable. So adorable, in fact, that she should move away, put some distance between them. She didn’t take a step back though. “Well, they’re idiots. You make me calm. You quiet things for me.” Like now. Exactly like he was doing now.
His brows snapped together, and she had to laugh. “I’m not saying it makesmequiet. Nothing does that. But you soothe what’s restless in me.”
She pressed a hand over her heart, and his gaze followed the motion. Realizing she’d just drawn his attention to her breasts, she held her breath, aware of a strange tension vibrating between them. Did he feel it too? Was he—
