“Fuck.” Stomach churning, protective instincts growing inside me, I drive around, searching for a parking spot, finally settling on a lot a few blocks away. I give my car to an attendant and rush down the street and over to Sweet Treats.
I open the door, which still works, and step inside. The sweet smell immediately assaults me, a delicious, welcoming scent that reminds me of my candy girl. Inside, there is no hint of vandalism, thank goodness, but I don’t see Faith.
“Hello?” I call out.
She immediately pops up from where she must have been kneeling down by the counter. “Jason!” she says, obviously surprised to see me.
“What the hell happened here?” I ask, knowing I sound pissed because I am. Who would terrorize a woman this way?
She sighs. “The store was vandalized on Sunday, and nobody’s been willing to come out and fix it until sometime next week.”
“Sunday? Why the hell didn’t you call me?” Guilt for ignoring my gut instinct immediately fills me.
Didn’t I worry about the slashed tire? Didn’t I know better than to disregard what my instinct told me was important? I tamp down thoughts of Levi. Faith is here in front of me, safe at least right now, and I intend to make sure she stays that way.
“Seriously?” She strides out from behind the counter, hands settled on her hips, and glares at me. “I barely know you. Why would I bother you with my problems?”
I step closer, placing my hand beneath her chin, our gazes locked in a war of wills. “Because there was a connection between us, and you know it. And because I can help you and clearly”—I sweep my arm toward the door—“you need that help and support. Where is Kelsey?” I ask more gently, stroking a hand over Faith’s cheek before stepping back and giving her space.
Faith lets out a breathy groan. “She’s out with the flu. I’ve been holding things down here alone, but like I said, people aren’t coming in. I think they’re avoiding me because of the graffiti and damage.” She frowns, appearing more angry than scared, for which I am grateful.
I take her soft hand in mine and look her over, inspecting her body, from her feet in pink Chucks, up her legs, past her apron, over her abundant and tempting breasts, to her hair piled on top of her head. “You look fine,” I mutter to myself, relieved.
She blinks in clear disbelief. “Now that’s a good way to turn a lady’s head.You look fine,” she says in a damned good imitation of me.
I shake my head and grin. “I meant, you appear unharmed and you look fucking fantastic.” And she does. The messy bun and hot pink tee shirt with her store logo hugging her curves suit her.
She laughs. “Now you’re just sugarcoating the truth.”
“And you’re trying to avoid discussing what happened here.” I pull her over to the nearest table and hold out a chair. “Sit and talk to me.”
She narrows her gaze as she lowers herself into the chair. “I came in early on Sunday and found… this.” She gestures to the window, her expression alternatively sad, then furious.
I slide my chair closer to hers before settling in. “Do you think it’s related to the slashed tire?”
“I have no idea,” she says, as her entire expression suddenly shuts down.
It isn’t my imagination, either. One minute she was engaged in the conversation; the next she closed herself off to me.
From the minute I laid eyes on her, I marked her as special. I still won’t let myself think of her as mine. She’s right in saying we barely know each other. But if she thinks I’m going to let her get away with deflecting about something as important as her safety, she is about to learn that I don’t screw around when it comes to people I care about. And she’s just been added to that short list.
CHAPTER THREE
Jason
Iunderstand whento tread carefully, so I study the suddenly panicked look on Faith’s face and decide to tackle things from another direction.
“Okay, you obviously don’t trust me… yet. So let’s start this way. I’m going to get your business back up and running.” I’ll prove to her she can believe in me, and I won’t let her down.
She frowns, shaking her head. “I called everyone in the area and some beyond. People are booked up.”
I raise an eyebrow at the challenge and pull out my cell, dialing one of my contractors who does work at Club TEN29 and who owes me a favor.
“Sam? It’s Jason Dare.”
“Hey, man. How are you?” Sam Fremont asks.
“I’m okay. You? How are Lisa and that princess of yours?” I ask of the man’s daughter.
