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“Your eyes are dilated,” Maggie says, pointing at me. “You definitely have to go see her.”
The alternative is staying here, breaking glass, and pissing myself off.
“Looks like I’m driving into the city.”* * *Traffic makes me want to commit murder. I’m not a fan of people, especially when they’re all in one place.
That place being wherever I am.
I bought my land away from civilization for a reason. I’m not a neighbor that brings gifts. Hell, I don’t even have any people living nearby.
I don’t shop unless it’s for groceries or sand for my glass, but even that is automatically delivered once a week.
Aside from my siblings, I’m happy to be alone. They all call me a recluse, and I won’t argue with that.
But then, I met her.
I can’t stop thinking about her, reliving the other night in my head, over and over again. I’ve never felt anything like it. I’ve also never had my feelings hurt as badly as I did when I realized that she’d walked out on me.
If I manage to do nothing else today, I want her to tell me why she left the way she did. That’s all I need, and then I’ll leave her be.
I finally make my way through the traffic to Bellevue and turn off the freeway, headed toward the heart of the skyscrapers.
Of course, she works in the middle of the hustle and bustle.
I fight for parking, and then hurry down the block to Anastasia’s cake shop.
When I step inside, a bell dings, and I take a deep breath, letting the smell of vanilla and sugar greet me.
“Oh, that’s a lovely design.”
I hear her voice, but I can’t see her. There are cakes, fake ones I assume, on tables, and cupcakes in a glass counter, waiting to be purchased.
“What do you think, babe?” Another female voice.
“I say you get what you want,” a man says.
I poke my head around a half-wall and see a small desk with a computer. Anastasia is sitting behind the desk, and a couple sits across from her.
“Can I help you?”
Anastasia looks up, and then her eyes go round. She bites her lip when she sees me.
“I’m here to see you.”
The couple turns in their seats to glance my way, but I only have eyes for the gorgeous blonde who owns the shop.
“I’m going to be a while. Would you like to go get a coffee, or—?”
“I’ll wait.” I lean my shoulder against the wall, watching her.
“I have chairs out there.”
“I’m fine here.”
A blush covers her cheeks, and I can’t help but remember how the rest of her body flushed and came alive under my hands. My mouth.
Anastasia clears her throat and smiles at her clients. “Do you mind if he listens to our conversation?”
The bride-to-be smiles and shakes her head. “I don’t mind at all. It’s kind of sweet, the way he’s looking at you.”
“And how is he looking at me?” Anastasia asks.
“Like he could eat you alive,” the groom replies, making me laugh.
“Back to the task at hand,” Anastasia says, clearing her throat. “Okay, so you like the purple.”
She spends the next twenty minutes firming up a plan for the couple’s wedding cake. It’s a pleasure to watch her, listening to her steer the customers in a direction that’s appropriate for their budget and their party needs. She’s wonderful with people, just as talented as she is with her cakes.
Before long, the couple leaves, and I finally have her all to myself.
“Kane—”
“You left.”
I hadn’t planned to lead with that, but it seems that’s the first thing to make it out of my mouth.
“I did.” She doesn’t pretend to misunderstand me, and I respect her more for it.
“Why?”
“Come with me.” She locks the door and leads me to the back of the store, the bakery area. “I’m closed for the day. That was my last appointment.”
She pulls a cake out of a fridge and unwraps it, then sets it on a round platter.
“Are you going to decorate that?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you said you were closed?”
“No more clients coming in, but I’ll be working into the evening.” She pulls ingredients out of the fridge and a large pantry. “I’m behind, so we’ll have to talk while I work.”
I don’t say anything, just watch in fascination as she competently begins to mix ingredients, not even using measuring tools.
She just knows.
“You’re not talking,” she says.
“It’s been three days.”
“Yes.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why did you leave in the middle of the night, Anastasia?”
“I think it’s obvious,” she says with a sigh. “Because I didn’t want it to be awkward the next morning. I mean, who wants to have the this-was-a-one-time-deal conversation? I knew the score. No need to make it awkward.”
“Who was going to have that talk, I’d like to know?” I ask, leaning against the counter.
“We were the only two there,” she says.
