“Everyone has their bad days,” he continued, pushing off the counter and walking toward me. “You’re allowed to lose it sometimes. That doesn’t make you dangerous.”
A bitter laugh escaped me. “It wasn’t just a bad day, Sean. Before this town, before the bakery… I wasn’t someone you’d want to know. I was…” I hesitated. “A killer.”
Sean didn’t flinch. Didn’t back away.
Instead, he stepped closer and placed a hand on my chest, right over my heart. “Then it’s a good thing you’re not that person anymore.”
I looked down at him, overwhelmed.
“I’m scared of turning back into him,” I admitted, the words ripped from someplace deep and raw.
“If something like that ever happens again,” Sean said, “you won’t be alone. I’ll be there. Rafael. The others. We’ll bring you back.”
His fingers curled slightly into my shirt.
And in that moment, something inside me finally unclenched. I reached up, cupped his face, my thumb brushing the soft curve of his cheek.
“I don’t deserve you,” I whispered.
Sean smiled, eyes warm and sure. “Too late,” he said. “You’ve got me.”
I kissed him again, soft and slow, and Sean responded with equal passion.
Chapter 10
Sean/ Beau
SEAN
Near closing time, the bakery had taken on that soft, quiet hush that always made me feel oddly safe.
The lights were dimmed, the last crumbs swept from tables, and the smell of fresh bread lingered in the air like a lullaby.
The others had gone home for the evening. Just me and Beau now. And I didn’t mind. Or I didn’t, until I heard him curse upstairs. It wasn’t just a muttered annoyance, either.
It was sharp, loud, frustrated. “Damn it.” A thud followed. Maybe his palm hitting the desk. Maybe his head.
My chest tightened. I thanked the last lingering customer, flipped the CLOSED sign, locked the door, and turned off the lights before heading up to the second floor.
I knocked gently. “Beau?”
“Come in,” he grumbled, his voice low and rough.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside, and couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my mouth.
The office had changed so much in the last few weeks. What had once been a barely furnished space with unfinished floors and walls, and rickety shelves was now warm and homey.
A thick wool rug covered the hardwood underfoot. The soft armchair in the corner had a little throw pillow that saidWhisk Taker.I still couldn’t believe Beau let me buy that.
My heart warmed. He’d started asking me about furniture picks now and then, especially when he wasn’t sure if something would “look okay.”
He always said it like it didn’t matter, but the way he listened? It did. It mattered to him that I liked it. That I felt at home.
“Hey,” I said gently, closing the door behind me. “Something wrong?”
He looked up from behind the desk, his brow still furrowed. But when he saw me, his shoulders dropped just slightly. A breath he didn’t realize he was holding slipped free.
“The damn computer keeps freezing every time I try to finish the inventory report,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “I swear I’m two clicks away from throwing it out the window.”
