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I have absolutely nothing to give or offer this man so I really can’t be thinking about his eyes and the way he kept looking at me or how good it felt when our hands touched.

But I also can’t stop.

I should call Morgan and chew her ass clean out for putting this “kiss a man” idea into my head and apparently making me lose my freaking mind.

Because, what?

What just happened out there?

And why the absolute fuck did it feel so… easy?

“Enough,” I mutter to myself, grabbing a fresh towel from the shelf and picking the old one up off the floor before tossing it into the dirty bin. I still need to wipe the tables down and I can’t hide in the kitchen anymore. Sucking in a breath, I push through the door back into the dining room. My eyes immediately find him, sitting at his table and as soon as I enter the room, his gaze locks onto me.

Oof.

Why can I feel his gaze on me?

Why the hell do I like it so much?

The bell above the door rings when I’m halfway to the tables that still need to be cleaned and I glance up, a smile already on my face. And my stomach drops.

Owen.

My fingers tighten around the towel in my hand and my heart thunders in my ears as I stare at him, unable to move or speak.

No.

What the hell is he doing here?

I blocked him.

I ended this.

He doesn’t get to be here so what the hell is he doing standing in my bakery?

“Len,” he rasps, his voice tired. He’s got dark circles under his eyes and his hair is a fucking mess. “Can we talk?”

I shake my head, gritting my teeth as I move to the first dirty table and begin wiping it down. “There is nothing to talk about.”

My hands are trembling.

I scrub at the table harder.

How fucking dare he come here.

This is my place and now it’s… tainted by his presence.

In all the months we’ve lived here in Baton Rouge, he never once came to visit this bakery and now, now that I’ve walked away, he shows up.

“Lennon,” he snaps, stepping up next to the table I’m scrubbing. I can see his legs in my peripheral vision but I refuse to look up at him.

Fuck him.

“I need to talk to you.”

I shake my head, continuing to scrub at the surface of the table. At this point, I might start taking paint off. “I said no.”

Fingers wrap around my arm and yank it away from the table. I gasp, looking up at the man towering over me.