Page 46

What is it about him?

Objectively, he’s gorgeous.

But so are lots of other people.

There is also this air of danger around him, and the angry bruise surrounding his left eye doesn’t do anything to dispel that impression.

How did it take me this long to even notice that?

With his coffee and cinnamon roll in hand, I head back to the register and set his things down in front of him. He looks down at them and then up at me with an expectant expression.

“What do I owe you?”

Oh, fuck.

Lennon.

Get a damn grip.

“Five sixty-three,” I say after punching his items into the register and he hands me a ten-dollar bill.

“Keep the change.”

I nod, pulling his change from the till and stuffing it into the tip jar.

“Thank you.”

He takes his treat and coffee and heads into the dining room, choosing a table near the window. After a second, he glances back at me, meeting my eye, and I drop my gaze to the counter, sucking in a breath.

What in the hell is wrong with me?

This has to be Morgan’s doing.

Kiss a man just because you feel like it.

Why the hell would she put that in my head?

“Deep breath, Len,” I whisper under my breath before standing up straight and glancing around the bakery. I need to find something to do. Several of the tables still have dirty dishes and crumbs on them from previous patrons and I grab the towel again before heading out to the dining room.

Of course the tables are close to the mystery man though.

“Busy morning?” he asks, just as I reach the first table and I let out a little laugh.

“This your way of telling me the bakery is in disrepair?”

He smirks, shaking his head. He’s leaning back in his seat in that casual way only a man can master, eyeing me carefully. But there is something about the way he looks at me.

“No,” he answers, peeling a piece of his cinnamon roll off. “Just an observation.”

I shake my head as I stack the dirty dishes. “How very astute of you.”

“Yeah, that’s what they usually say about me. Very astute,” he fires back, a grin teasing his lips as he shoves the piece of cinnamon roll into his mouth.

“Is it?” I ask, arching a brow. “That wouldn’t have been my first assumption.”

“Oh? And what would have been?”

I flash him a smile. “I can’t tell you that. A girl’s gotta keep some secrets.”