Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“I’ll think about it. In the meantime, I’ll take your card.”
She handed it to me, and I took it, careful not to touch her fingers. I then pointedly picked up my phone, concentrating on the screen. She huffed an annoyed noise but stood and left. A few moments later, a young girl came over, offering me a refill. I shook my head.
“No, thanks. Actually, I wanted to talk to Brianna about a cake. Is she in?”
“Not until two,” she replied brightly.
“Thanks.”
I drained my coffee and stood. If she wasn’t here, there was no point in staying.
I would return then.
I got busy with calls and emails, the time passing quickly. It was almost three when I walked back into the bakery. It was quieter, the display cases not as full, the tables mostly deserted. I bought another coffee and a couple of cookies and sat back in the corner where I could watch the counter.
I hadn’t seen her, but I knew she was here. I felt her. It was the oddest sensation, a small tingle down my spine, but I sensed her close. I sipped the coffee, my body tightening when I heard her voice coming from behind the closed door leading to the kitchen.
“I said four dozen, Kenneth. Is it so hard to understand simple instructions?”
The door swung open, and she appeared, carrying a tray. She looked annoyed and pissed off—my favorite look on her. She was in another pair of overalls, these ones pink, with a white T-shirt underneath them. Her hair was bundled up, the rebellious curls spilling around her face. Without a trace of makeup or jewelry on, she still made my chest ache with her subtle beauty.
She was muttering to herself, checking the trays, wiping the counter, lifting the coffeepot. Since she was buzzing around like the little bee she was, I had a feeling her stinger was armed today. She looked ready for a fight, and I wanted to be the one to provoke her.
She came around the counter, offering refills to people, not noticing me yet. I watched her carefully, spying the weariness around her eyes, the bent slope of her shoulders. She had an apron tied around her waist, traces of various ingredients on it. As she came closer, I saw the dusting of flour on the tip of her elegant nose. She still hadn’t seen me. She was busy filling a cup when she suddenly tensed, her shoulders drawing back. Her head snapped up, and our eyes met across the tables.
Her eyebrows flew up, her dark eyes widening to the point of hilarity. Her gaze bounced around the room, no doubt looking for an escape. She began to back up, but I raised my cup, shaking my head in silent refusal. She wasn’t getting away from me. Not this time.
She tossed her head, stubborn and willful. Then she came over, a wide, false smile on her face.
“Would you like a refill, sir?” she asked as if she had never seen me before now.
“Yes,” I replied, pushing my cup toward her. Her hand shook as she poured the coffee.
“Hello, my little bee,” I murmured. “I’ve been waiting.”
She dropped the pot.
BRIANNA
It had been a shit of a week since Carolina’s wedding. Nothing went right. I had trouble sleeping. Visions of teasing golden eyes and a wickedly sinful mouth on mine kept me awake. When I did sleep, my dreams were filled with him. I’d wake up, desperate and wet, my hand between my legs, needing release. Never finding it.
I had returned the van, filled with gas, and washed, as per MaryJo’s requirements. I had stopped arguing it was never clean or full when I picked it up. I needed it, and she knew it. She had informed me the extra mileage I was putting on it was driving up her insurance, and she wasn’t happy about it. I hated it when she made her veiled threats and walked away. It left me on tenterhooks, not knowing what was coming next.
I found out yesterday when she’d given me the bill for the expenses she would be deducting from my salary. It left me basically nothing. I had gaped at the amount.
“This isn’t what we agreed on,” I argued.
“Expenses have gone up. You used the oven and electricity a lot for this job. Took up a lot of valuable freezer space.”
“I already factored that in when we agreed. You can’t do this, MaryJo. It leaves me with nothing to live on.”
Even with what they’d paid me for the cake, by the time I deducted the cost of the ingredients and what I had to pay MaryJo, I barely made a dime. And I had put out all the money in advance, and I had to replace what I had spent. I wasn’t going to be able to cover my rent since another payment was due on my student loans.