Besides, it’s okay to occasionally step back and admit how ridiculous you’re being. I hardly know the woman I’m protecting as if my life will no longer have purpose if she isn’t a part of it, but they say the smile of a stranger can change your life, so imagine the impact when you recognize your soul mate within a nanosecond of them peering up at you.
7
Birds chirp in the distance as the angry honk of commuters grows louder with each second I stand at the tinted window in my office, waiting for Isabelle to arrive. It’s been two weeks since she brushed away the tear high on her cheek. That’s also how long it’s been since I saw her. She still runs every morning. She just no longer detours past my nightclub. Hugo assures me it’s because her work schedule is too heavy for her to run over an hour each day, but I suspect there’s more at play than he’s letting on.
Normally, I can read Hugo like a book. I haven’t partaken in the skill for the past six weeks. He’s been as evasive as Hunter, and I’d be a dishonest crook if I said it wasn’t grating my last nerve.
My inner circle is tight for a reason. One loose thread will unravel my entire operation, and the chances of that occurring increase when my astuteness slips for the third time this week.
After sliding my cell phone out of my pocket, I dial a well-used number. Hugo answers a couple of rings later. “Boss…” He sounds breathless like he’s running. It has me hopeful my unexpected sleep-in this morning didn’t lose me the opportunity of scrutinizing Isabelle from afar today. “Isaac…” Now he sounds straight-up worried. It’s understandable. I’m not known for my patience.
I cough to clear my throat of infuriating nerves before asking, “What time does Isabelle break for lunch?”
I can’t see Hugo, but I picture him slanting his head and raising his brow when the thuds of his feet are switched for quick, sharp breaths. “A little before one. Why?”
Happy to let him stew, I disconnect our call before moving back to my desk. I have a stack of paperwork to take care of and only eight hours to do it because if I have it my way, Isabelle will be mine by the end of today.
My bed.
My house.
My rules.
Mine.
“Welcome to Harlow’s Scrumptious Haven. How can I help you…” The auburn-haired female serving behind the counter at the bakery Isabelle frequents every day for lunch swallows down the remainder of her greeting with a hearty gulp.
Her response to her eyes landing on my face is nothing out of the ordinary. Women have a thing for men in tailored suits. Then, when you add my eye coloring’s uniqueness into the mix, they’re practically putty in my hands.
Well, everyonebutIsabelle.
I haven’t had to work this hard in years, and even now, minutes away from making a fool of myself, I’m still not convinced I should. I wouldn’t be here if Hugo’s suggestion for me to take a step back didn’t cause Isabelle to increase the distance between us by a hundred. I knew I was on her mind when she stopped by my office each morning. Now, I have no clue if I pop into her thoughts as often as she does mine.
“I’m sorry,” the bakery staff apologizes while running her hand down her flour-dusted apron. “But don’t you own a restaurant a couple of blocks from here?”
My lips quirk. She’s smarter than she looks. Don’t misconstrue. She doesn’t represent the docile women who usually endeavor to warm my sheets. Her smarts just aren’t hazed enough by my looks to have her speechless. “I do own a restaurant near here. Many of them—”
“Then why are you here?” she interrupts, her hip cocking as efficiently as her manicured brow. “Nothing on my menu is over ten dollars, so I doubt I’d have anything of interest for you…” Her words trail off for the second time, except this time, interest doesn’t soften her features. It hardens them. “As I told your associate this morning, I’m not interested in selling. This business has been in my family for years, and it will remain in my family. I don’t care how enticing your offer is.” The confidence in her tone would be more convincing if the sigh of a woman struggling to stay afloat didn’t rumble in her chest. She’s drowning, but she refuses to acknowledge it.
“I’m not here to place an offer on your business.” I have staff who handle the acquisition of assets on my behalf, so I’d never rock up to place a bid uninvited. “I’m here to have lunch.”
“Oh…” She doesn’t look like she believes me. However, since she seems to issue trust as readily as she serves her customers diabetes, she keeps things amicable. “Then what can I get you? We have premade sandwiches in the deli section. Warm pies if you’re seeking something a little sweeter, or you can make a beeline for heart attack alley by eating cupcakes for tea. The choice is yours.”
“Umm…” Considering I haven’t eaten since breakfast, this is the last thing I should order. “I’ll have a mug of coffee with cream and sweetener, please.”
She’s quick to clear away the disappointment on her face.“Coffee.Great.Will that be for here or to go?”
Ignoring the snip of sarcasm in her tone, I reply, “Here.” I nudge my head to a stack of newspapers at our side. “Are they free?” I’ve already caught up on the gossip circulating in my town today, but I need something to take the edge off the heated stares directed my way the past five minutes. Harlow’s bakery is at barely twenty-percent capacity, but the lack of clientele hasn’t dampened the heat of her customers’ wanton gawks.
“Yes, they’re free. Help yourself.” The auburn-haired lady snickers at me as if I’m cheap before she moves to the coffee machine at the side to prepare my wallet-breaking order. “Take a seat. I’ll bring yourorderto your table.”
I dip my chin in thanks before straying my eyes across the establishment. Even with it not being furnished to my tastes, I can admit it has a funky, retro vibe that some clientele would appreciate.
After snatching up a recent copy ofRavenshoe News, I move for a table near the window. It’s warm out today, but the view out the window will be worth the glare, most particularly if I get to drink in Isabelle in her natural habitat.
I enjoy my favorable spot for approximately thirty seconds before I realize my stupidity. Even an establishment like a bakery can have an uptick in sales when it attracts the right clientele. I barely perused the paper’s financial section when the three tables surrounding mine are filled with bottoms. The women swarming me like vultures don’t pay the menu any attention. I doubt they even know the products listed since they’re too busy batting their lashes at me.
“I’ll take my coffee at the back,” I say to the bakery staff when she arrives at my table with my order.
