I went back to the counter and reached for the mixer. “Give me one second. If I stop this too long, the frosting’s going to get all weird.”
Lev leaned against the edge of the island, watching as I added powdered sugar in small amounts and scraped the sides of thebowl between each one. His attention followed every movement, from the trays lined across the counter to the labels I had already printed and stacked near the boxes.
“How many orders is this?” he asked.
“Twelve.” I replied like it was nothing.
He glanced around the kitchen. “You don’t get tired, whipping them cakes look like whipping dope.”
“I’ll stop when I finish paying you.”
“That the only reason?”
I slowed the mixer and looked at him. “No, I actually like this.”
He nodded, with his eyes moving over the neat rows of supplies. The look on his face wasn’t pity and definitely not judgment. It was the expression of a man recognizing hustle because he knew what it looked like.
I turned off the mixer, wiped my hands again, and pulled the cash from the binder. The stack felt lighter than the last one, although the number was the same. Maybe because handing him money no longer felt like surrendering something. Every payment brought me closer to being free of the debt and everything attached to it.
I held the three thousand out to him. “Here you go.”
He took it without a word while I reached for the little receipt book lying beside the order forms, flipped to the next page, and carefully wrote the date, payment amount, and remaining balance. Lev watched the pen move across the paper, with that faint amusement returning to his eyes before I even tore off the receipt.
I handed it over with a small smile. “Twenty-five thousand now, almost halfway,” I added.
He looked at the slip, then at me. “You proud of yourself?”
“A little.” I capped the pen and tucked it into the spiral. “You should be too. Not everybody gets handwritten receipts with this level of detail.”
His mouth broke into something but not enough to call a smile, although it was close.
“Keep baking Navy.”
The way he said my name sent a warmth through me that had nothing to do with the oven. It shot right in between my thighs. He slid the receipt into his pocket with the money and headed toward the door. I followed, stopping a few feet behind him while he reached for the knob.
“Lev.”
He turned around and for a second, I forgot why I had called his name. There was too much sitting between us now especially him answering my call expecting something to be wrong.
I forced my mind back toward safer ground. “Thank you for coming to get it.”
His gazed at me for a few seconds before he said, “Lock the door.”
Then he stepped into the hallway while I watched until he disappeared around the corner before closing the door and sliding the lock into place. For the next few minutes, I stood there with my hand resting against it, allowing thoughts I had no business entertaining to crowd my mind. Then the timer sounded from the kitchen. I pushed away from the door and returned to the cakes.
Whatever was happening between Lev and me would have to wait. I still had twenty-five thousand dollars, twelve orders, a hospital shift, a divorce, and one unstable husband standing between me and anything that looked remotely like peace. Falling for a man especially one I should have stayed far away from wasn’t on the schedule. The problem was that my heart had never been good at checking my calendar.
CHAPTER 21
Navy ‘Nay’ Prescott
Day Nine
“Uh-uh. Whatever demon is living in that shoulder, you need to go ahead and cast it out, because I know damn well that ain’t just a knot.”
I would have laughed if the massage therapists’ thumb hadn’t been buried so deep beneath my shoulder blade that breathing felt like a privilege I hadn’t earned. Damn! These deep tissue massages weren’t no joke. The massage therapist laughed though.
“Don’t encourage her,” I muttered, curling my fingers around the edge of the heated table. “She’s already rooting for you to separate my arm from my body.”
