“Did you just call me an asshole?”
Cam grins wide. “Me?” He blinks innocently. “Never.” He slaps me on my shoulder, gripping it in his palm. “Have a good day, grouch.”
He’s the asshole.
It’s a shame he’s not coming downstairs with me.
I really want to punch something.
CHAPTER FIVE
SAWYER
I love being in a relationship.
I hate dating.
To get one you kind of need to experience the other. Maybe I should have just found someone to fuck tonight. But even that doesn’t appeal to me much. I love sex, don’t get me wrong, but I love the things that rotate around it.
Kisses that you can feel from your head down to your toes. Squeezing hugs that make the stress melt away from you. Tension. Heat. That soft hum of pleasure when you like someone and they’re driving you crazy.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt any of that.
I push the salmon around on my plate, not hungry anymore, and the dull chatter around me crescendos, making the awkward silence at our table deafening. It’s a bit choking. The more I try to think of something to say, the hotter my face grows.
It’s fine. Take a breath. It’s just been a bit.When was the last time I even had a boyfriend? Holy shit. Years at least, right? I had a situationship last year, but it pretty much ended once my mother’s health worsened. I felt like the harder I concentrated on her, the less the cancer would spread.
Okay, not thinking about that right now.
I watch Damien. He’s handsome. His attention is half on his phone and half on the salad he ordered. Thick dark hair, softgreen eyes. His nose is a little sharp, and there’s scruff on his face that I like. I’m not usually into beards, but his is trimmed enough and it looks hot on him.
He’s barely said a thing since we sat down. I keep watching his hands. I have a thing for nice hands and his are nice. His nails are manicured and clean. They look strong.
And he’s tapping his phone again.
“So...” I clear my throat. “How did your meeting go last week?” He pauses with his fork halfway to his lips. This is the first time we’ve met in person. We talked for a couple of months on this app I’ve been using, and then I gave him my number. It was never this awkward on the phone, though.
It’s a wonder I have so many friends when I have such a hard time speaking to new people. Except when I’m at the bakery. Talking is easy then, I don’t know why. My brain flicks into work mode I suppose. Outside of that I have a hard time.
I don’t make friends; friends seem to make me. Noah is coming over next week to show me the website and we’re going to film some videos and take pictures. I have about forty-three followers just from the one picture Noah posted of me in front of the bakery. It’s something. More than I expected already, really.
I don’t get help very often, and it’s taken a long time for me to accept it.
All my friends are going to help me redo the shop next week on the very meager budget I have. I gave Noah my credit card and told him he had three hundred to spend.
I’m scared.
I think about Aiden calling it a doctor’s office. Is it really that bad?
A year ago, my mother was diagnosed with stomach cancer. We sold my old bakery, which used to be her restaurant, to help pay the medical bills and keep her as comfortable as possible.
Hunter had told me about an old shop on Main Street for lease, and within two months I’d moved in. It was closer to the hospital, and close to Hunter so he could take me to visit her when he had time. I owe him so much for that alone.
I just haven’t had much time to redecorate. It used to be a bread bakery, so I’m lucky a lot of the equipment I needed was already there. With some of the money leftover from selling my mother’s business I was able to buy important machinery for the back, but it didn’t leave much to help do the front.
We’re selling Mom’s house now, and Jane and I are splitting everything, and while I need it, I can’t help but feel like all my childhood memories are leaving with it. Jane and I used to help our mother cook in her restaurant. Then at home. Food was her love language, and selling the old restaurant almost killed me.
I don’t know what Noah has planned, but I’ll let him do whatever he wants.
