She moves as if my presence does nothing to her. As if she’s not fazed in the slightest that I can see her dancing all alone and as if this attraction is one-sided.
Hell, maybe it is.
She reaches the door, and that cold stare locks onto mine.
My heart pounds.
Her lips move along to the song I cannot hear, and while I should be furious that she hasn’t let me inside yet, I'm focused on how pink and full her lips are. On how long her dark lashes are as she looks up at me. On the single freckle that sits inside her right dimple.
Her hand moves for the handle, and I let out a small breath of relief that she’s going to at least hear me out and not make this any harder than it needs to be. But then, still fucking singing, she crosses her eyes, sticks her tongue out, and flips me off.
Then she pulls the small blinds down and blocks my view.
Damn it.
Chapter
Two
BROOKE
I can’t helpthe laugh that escapes me.
Dutton’s face just now was epic.
He looked so relieved that I walked to the door instead of pretending he wasn’t there.
As if I’d let him in here.
I kick him out during business hours; he can’t honestly think I’d let him inafterhours.
No thank you.
I dance my way to the display case near the register and tell Alexa to turn the music up. Taylor Swift’s voice fills the bakery even louder, and I continue on with my cleaning.
This might be one of my favorite parts of the day, outside of the quiet and the smell of freshly baked goodies as I start most of my mornings.
A few years ago, I took over B’s Bakery from my best friend, Sadie. It used to belong to her mother, and after she passed away,Sadie ran the store. Then, after one crazy summer, I took over from her, and Sadie opened the bookstore next door.
My dream would be to actually buy the business and building from her, then expand by opening an online store where I can sell baking bundles with the recipes I come up with so that people can have a little taste of this place anywhere in the country, but as of right now, it’s not in the cards for me. I just run the bakery for her. Sadie is so completely hands-off that most people think I already own it.
Not yet.
But someday soon, I hope.
As soon as I’m finished wiping down the tables in the café, I start to stack the chairs so that I can mop the floor.
A chorus line I love hits, and I sing at the top of my lungs as I push through the swinging door into the kitchen.
The form standing on the other side stops me. My hands fly to my face, and I let out a piercing scream, dropping the cleaning supplies in my hands and jumping back.
Then I register who it is.
“Damnit, Dutton, you can't just walk in through the back entrance whenever you want.”
“We need to talk.”
I cross my arms in front of me and cock my hip to the side.
