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"Every morning."
"No wonder this place is always packed when I drive by," he says, staring at the crumbs on the plate I just set in front of him. "That's fucking amazing."
"It was my mom's recipe."
"Yeah?"
I nod, not sure why I'm telling him this. Maybe because talking is less awkward than him staring at me. He did that the first ten minutes of dinner. I think he would have kept doing it had I not started chattering. He's…intense. Or maybe it's simply that I'm intensely attracted to him. Either way, my panties are soaked, and it's his fault.
I'm determined to keep my distance since he's here as a favor to Nash, but he's so outrageous, it's endearing. Most guys get mad when you tell them no. They get offended that you dared to reject them. I can't count how many times I've been called a bitch for declining an offer I didn't ask for in the first place. Or how many times I've been told I'm not actually their type and they were just being nice. As if the fact that I'm plus size means I'm somehow unworthy. Miss me with that mess. I may be a big girl, but I learned a long time ago that fat doesn't mean ugly, and thin doesn't mean beautiful.
I was bullied a lot when I was younger. When you're chubby, and you're named after a tree, kids get inventive with the name-calling. I was Fat Forest for a while, or Bigger Than an Aspen. The ones doing the name-calling were usually thin. I'm not sure why they made me their target—maybe because I was the girl with no parents. But it taught me that people say a lot of mean crap when they're jealous. Hurt people hurt people, and insecure people love to lash out.
Rejected men are the worst. They do an about-face fast enough to cause whiplash. One minute, you're a goddess. The next, they were just doing you a favor because no one would ever possibly date someone your size. Ugh.
Noah is a refreshing change from the norm. Despite my rejecting him, he hasn't gotten nasty or passive-aggressive. He hasn't been rude. No matter what I say, he just comes back for more. Every word he says is more outrageous than the last. I've met charming men before. They're everywhere around here. But I'm in serious danger of softening toward this one.
I'll worry about that later.
"She taught you how to cook?"
"No," I murmur sadly, a lump forming in my throat. "She died before she got the chance, but I have all of her recipes. One day, this place will be half bakery, half coffee shop, using her recipes." I bite my lip as soon as I say the words. Crap. I shouldn't have told him that. If he's lying about telling Nash that he isn't going to spy for him, then my brother is going to know that I'm up to something. He'll be on my doorstep, demanding I move back home and driving me crazy.
"She ran a bakery?"
"Her and my dad ran two of them."
"I'm sorry you lost them so young," he says quietly, his voice sincere. "I'm damn glad the accident didn't take you too."
I look at him in genuine surprise. "Nash told you?"
He nods. "Always knew he had a sister, but I didn't realize he raised you."
"Yeah. He took custody of me after the accident so I didn't end up in foster care." He was barely out of college and was expected to go straight to the NHL. He ended up skipping the draft that year. Everything was so fresh and raw. I don't think he had the energy to expend in caring for me and tackling a professional career simultaneously.
I was in the hospital for a while. I broke my leg in three places, broke my arm, three ribs, and my collarbone. Nash was by my side through all of it, sacrificing everything to be there for me. By the time I healed enough for him to refocus on hockey, he couldn't find a team willing to sign him. It took him another two years before he finally went into the AHL on a two-way contract, with no guarantee that he'd ever see ice time in the NHL. I felt so guilty that he gave up his one shot, but he never complained.
When he was called up to the Capitals not long after joining the Yellowjackets, I felt better because he was meant to play hockey professionally. I guess it's part of the reason I'm so adamant about living on my own. He's sacrificed enough for me already. It's beyond time for him to have a life of his own.
"He's a good man."
"He is," I agree without hesitation. Nash may drive me insane, but he's the best brother. I know he's only overprotective because he worries. He almost lost me once. He never wants to go through that again, so he does everything he can to ensure it never happens. I just wish he'd worry a little less about me and more about himself. I love it right here in Silver Spoon Falls in my tiny little house. It's time for Nash to worry about Nash.
"You going to let me watch you make these if I come by in the morning?" Noah asks, changing subjects. He holds up a scone to illustrate what he means.
"You want to watch me bake?" I eye him critically.
"Why the fuck not?"
"Because I start at four in the morning?"
He blinks. "You're shitting me."
"Nope."
"How the fuck do you even function at four in the morning?"
I purse my lips and widen my eyes, looking around the shop.
