“Morning,” I managed, my voice rougher than I intended.
He studied me for a long moment, his expression shifting from satisfied to concerned. “You okay?”
No. I’m terrified. I’m wondering if I just made the biggest mistake of my life.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
“Trudy—”
“I need to get ready for work.” I pulled away from him, sliding out of bed and grabbing my robe from the chair. “The bakery opens at six.”
He sat up, the sheet pooling around his waist, and I forced myself not to look at his bare chest. Refused to remember how it felt beneath my fingertips.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle but insistent.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Bullshit.”
I tied the robe tightly around my waist, armor against the vulnerability threatening to swallow me whole. “I said I’m fine, Stephen.”
He watched me for another moment, then swung his legs out of bed. “All right. Then I’m coming with you.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I’m coming with you,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. Because Stephen Hartley didn’t take no for an answer.
And I didn’t know if that made me feel better or worse.
We dressed in silence, the easy intimacy of last night replaced by something heavier, more complicated. I caught himwatching me in the mirror as I brushed my hair, his expression unreadable.
What was he thinking? Did he regret knocking on my door? Was he already planning his exit?
“Trudy.”
I turned to find him standing in the doorway, fully dressed, his leather jacket slung over one arm.
“Yeah?”
“Whatever’s going on in that head of yours,” he said quietly, “we’re gonna talk about it tonight. Right now, I’m following you to work, and we’re gonna pretend everything’s normal.”
“Everythingisnormal.”
“Sure it is, darlin’.” He crossed the room, cupped my face in his hands, and kissed me—slow and deep and devastating. When he pulled back, I was breathless. “Let’s go.”
The drive to the bakery was torture. Stephen followed on his motorcycle, the rumble of the engine a constant reminder of his presence. Of what we’d done. Of what I’d let happen.
Pati was already inside when I unlocked the door, her eyes widening when she saw Stephen walk in behind me.
“Morning, Nana,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. Then, to Stephen: “Morning, Popeye.”
“Morning, Pati.” He grinned at her, then turned to me, wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, and kissed me.
Not a peck. Not a quick goodbye.
A full, claiming,possessivekiss that left no doubt about what had happened between us.
When he finally pulled back, I was flushed and flustered and completely undone. Pati was grinning like the cat who’d caught the canary.
