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Giant grins back, shaking his head. "Where do you want all of this shit?"
"Kitchen, please." I start to slip under his arm to help him unload everything from the back of his employee's truck.
"Fuck, no," he says, stepping in front of me. "Back inside."
"Seriously?"
"Serious as a heart attack. Your man isn't banning my big ass from the arena because you broke the rules."
I scowl up at him. "You're way more fun when you're not in charge of me."
Amusement flashes in his eyes. "Mischief tells me the same thing," he says, referring to his wife, Bella. "But you'll thank me later."
I wrinkle my nose at him, making him laugh. But I give up on the idea of helping carry stuff in. Giant may be a madman more often than not, but he takes his job seriously. There's no way he's letting me step foot outside until Noah and Dillon give the all clear.
It takes him four trips to haul everything inside. He's wiping sweat by the time he finishes. "You really need all this shit?"
"Do you want fresh scones and cookies?"
"Uh, fuck yeah."
"Then yes, I need all this stuff."
He chuckles, holding his hands up. "I'm just going to take my big ass out of your kitchen and mind the business that earns me scones."
"Good choice."
He disappears down the hallway.
"Where are you going?" I call after him.
"Gotta piss!"
I shake my head, laughing. Giant doesn't ask for permission or forgiveness. He just does what he wants to do.
I start prowling through bags, pulling stuff out. Maybe Jack did send me a little bit too much stuff.
Footsteps sound behind me.
"Thanks for carrying everything in. I'll let you know when the scones are finished."
"Aspen."
I wheel around at the unfamiliar voice. My gaze lands on Troy, and my hands go lax. The container of blueberries plummets to the floor as shards of ice grow in my veins.
Chapter Twelve
Aspen
I stare at Troy, not breathing. He's here. Oh my God. He found me. He's going to kill me to keep me from identifying him.
I'll never see Noah again. I'll never get to hold the babies he's dying to have. Never own my own bakery. Never do any of the things I've put off, waiting until later. There won't be a later.
Tears well up from my soul, threatening to drown me in grief. But I don't have time to cry for all the things that could have--should have--been. If there's a chance of making it out of this. I have to find it.
For Noah.
For Nash.
