Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“I don’t,” he assured me with a comforting grin I didn’t believe for a second.
“Put that smile away. I’m not Tara so it doesn’t work on me.” Chris was a nice guy and an engaging writer, but his charm didn’t work on me. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling he was up to something, and that I wouldn’t absolutely not like whatever that something might be.
His deep chuckle bounced off the display case and echoed inside the bakery. “I wouldn’t dream of inflicting my charm on you, Mara. I like my life and my jewels, too much.” His eyes sparkled with mischief and I froze for a brief moment, waiting to see if he would give anything away. Of course, Chris was entirely too smart for that.
“Good to know.” I took my time packaging up the cheesecake bites and truffles, because Shannon was going crazy over all the social media photos that tagged the bakery with effusive praise, which meant it was another thing I’d have to keep up to keep the boss happy. “Here’s your order. Thank you for choosing Bread Box for your baked needs,” I said automatically, ignoring the way his lips twitched in amusement. “Anything else?”
“One thing, actually.” He wore a sheepish smile as he dropped down below the glass display case for a moment to dig inside the laptop bag he carried with him everywhere, and reappeared holding two envelopes.
Not Valentine’s gifts, thank you, Universe.
“Don’t shoot the messenger.” He held the envelopes between his thumb and forefinger as they, or I, might bite him.
I snatched the envelopes from him with a phony smile. “Can’t do that when your lady love is law enforcement, now can I?”
“Screwed up reasoning, but I’ll take it.” He shrugged and laughed, but took a cautious step back. “And Mara?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t throw those away without reading them. Just keep an open mind, yeah?”
That meant there was something inside those envelopes I might want to throw away, something that would upset me. Or worse, something that would make me remember the past. But it was a small ask and I wasn’t a damn coward. “Fine,” I sighed. “I won’t throw them away until after I read them. Happy?”
A slow grin spread cross Chris’ face and he nodded. “Definitely. Have a good day, Mara.”
“I was doing just that until you showed up delivering unwanted gifts, or whatever the hell is in there.” The words hit his back as he juggled the boxes and the laptop bag slung over one broad shoulder, jostling at his body shaking laughter.
“Glad to help!” Without looking back, Chris gave a short wave and I just knew he had a devious smirk on his face because the man wrote mysteries for a living. He couldn’t be trusted, not at all.
Chris ducked out of the bakery before I found something hard, but not too hard, to throw at him. “Jerk,” I mumbled under my breath and shoved the envelopes inside the oversized pockets of the new calf-length aprons Shannon had fallen in love with after binge-watching YouTube cooking videos. Doing a good job was always a double-edged sword that meant job security and more work for me.
The envelopes burned a hole in my pocket for the rest of my shift as curiosity ate at me. There was no doubt who the sender of the envelopes was, but I couldn’t figure out what Xander could still have to say. We’d said everything there was to say, at least twice, already. The man was, as he had promised, determined and focused, almost to a fault.
And for some odd reason, all that determination was focused on me. Mara Landon, the foster kid with so much potential that went absolutely nowhere. It didn’t make sense and the more I thought about it, the more I refused to trust that this was about me at all. Maybe he didn’t like being duped by his parents and this was a way to make up for it.
Maybe he felt guilty.
Yeah, that’s it. He feels guilty.
With a clear answer as to his motives, I finished my shift without thinking about the envelopes every moment. Just every other moment.
As soon as I locked the door behind the last customer and flipped over the sign hanging on the door, I relaxed and got busy cleaning up the dining area, wiping down tables and gathering up all the trays that would spend the night in the dishwasher. I forced myself to ignore the envelopes and focus on the end-of-shift tasks that made life easier for the next shift.
Once the dining room and the kitchen were spotless, I gave myself a moment to peek at whatever was inside those envelopes. Inside the first envelope were a few photos, the one on top stole my breath. It was Xander, just eighteen years old, his thick black hair freshy shorn, blue eyes shining as bright as his smile, as he posed in his Army fatigues. He looked young. SO impossibly young it was hard to believe he was training to go to war.