Page 24

I sneak a peek at Sunshine again. “Who is that?”

“Huh?” She follows my gaze and then turns back to me with a gleam in her eyes. “Oh, that’s Lennon. Why?”

Lennon.

It fits her perfectly.

“Is she living in the apartment upstairs?” I ask, flicking my gaze between the two women. Mila continues staring at me, something mischievous in her brown eyes as she nods.

“Sure is. Just moved in last night, actually.”

My gaze snaps to Mila and I arch a brow.

When I first arrived in Baton Rouge eleven years ago, I didn’t know a damn soul and I didn’t have a penny to my name. Calvin, the owner of this bakery, found me digging in the dumpster outside for food and offered me the apartment upstairs until I could get back on my feet. In fact, it’s the only damn thing he uses the place for these days - helping those in need. I don’t think I’d be alive today is it wasn’t for Calvin and his generosity. But I have to wonder what kind of situation Sunshine got herself in to need the apartment upstairs.

“Where did Calvin find her?” I ask and Mila shakes her head.

“Oh, she’s been working here for about six months now and Calvin has semi-retired while she runs things.”

I scowl.

Has it really been that long since I dropped by or called Calvin to catch up?

I wouldn’t think so but I would have fucking remembered seeing my Sunshine before and I definitely would have remembered if Calvin had told me he retired and turned the business over to someone else to manage.

“Why is she staying upstairs though?”

Mila shrugs. “Don’t know. I’ve been too busy this morning to harass her for details. All I know is that Calvin ordered her to take the day off, covered her shift and informed me that she was living upstairs now.”

I’m intrigued.

Too damn intrigued to just grab food and head back to the compound like I planned.

“So,” Mila says, drawing my attention back to her. “You know what you want? Or…”

I glance up at the menu board like I don’t already have the damn thing memorized but my brain is not functioning properly right now. “Uh, let me get my usual, for here, but then I need to take a dozen donuts to go.”

“Coming right up,” she says, fighting back a grin as she flicks her gaze over to Lennon. But then she’s right back to work, moving quickly to make my coffee and breakfast sandwich. My mind races as I turn my focus back to Sunshine, studying her. What happened in her life to make her need a place to live all the sudden last night? My gaze drifts over every inch of her golden skin that I can see at the moment. As far as I can tell, she seems uninjured and that whittles away at some of the tension I feel over her situation but the more I stare at her, the more it seems like she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. My brows pull together at the thought.

I don’t fucking like it.

A girl like her deserves to be cherished and taken care of for every moment of her life, not dealing with whatever it is that put that weary look on her face.

“Here you go,” Mila says and I turn my gaze back to her as she sets my coffee and sandwich down on the counter. “I’ll have the donuts ready for you in like five minutes.”

I shake my head as I grab my wallet out of the back pocket of my jeans and toss a fifty down on the counter. “Take your time and keep the change.”

She tries to protest the ridiculously large tip but I’m not even listening anymore as I scoop up my stuff and survey the dining room in front of me. I need to find a spot that will allow me to keep an eye on my Sunshine without being too obvious or creepy. A man gets up from one of the tables near the counter.

Perfect.

I can’t help but grin as I make my way over and sink into the seat he just vacated. I wouldn’t ever dare to call myself a lucky bastard but this morning, everything seems to be working out in my favor. And I’m certainly not going to question it when it means I get to sit here and watch Lennon as she eats her breakfast.

Another stroke of luck - the guy who just got up from this table left the morning paper so I grab it, open it up and pretend to be interested in the words on the page in front of me but the only thing I care about it catching glimpses of Lennon. She’s barely touched her Danish or coffee and she has her book open in front of her but even I can tell that her mind is a million miles away. What the fuck is causing her so much turmoil? And why the hell do I feel this insane urge to stomp it out and ease all her worries?

She sighs, closing her book and setting it on the table in front of her before grabbing her coffee and turning to look at out at the busy sidewalk in front of the bakery. The cup doesn’t even make it to her full lips. She just sit there with it in her hand, staring out the window. Whatever is on the other side of that glass, she’s not seeing it. I want to get up. I want to go over there and ask her if she’s okay. I want to say something stupid but funny that will make her laugh.

Fuck.