Page 83 of Always Been Write

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“Yeah, okay,” I say and move toward her. Staying away is impossible right now. “You can’t wear crop tops anymore.”

She gasps. “You can’t wear jeans.”

“You can’t wear skirts that show your thighs when you sit down.” I touch her skirt as I approach her.

“You can’t wear shirts that hug your biceps and make me want to?—”

She stops, her eyes staring right at my arms.

“Make you what, Natalie?”

“Nothing.” She takes a breath and shakes her head, stepping around me. I turn to ask her where she’s headed, but she’s quicker than I thought and disappears up the stairs.

I blow out a breath.

Well … good luck to us both.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

NATALIE

The bakery hosting today’s bake-off was too small for all those who wanted to join in the fun, so they set up a large tent out front and put up three rows of five tables. There are two people per table, and the cheery energy is contagious.

“Do you know everyone here?” I lean back to ask Tobias. It wasn’t exactly a whisper, but the tables are close enough together that I don’t want anyone to hear me.

“Most of them, yeah. I’ve been coming here for ten years. I should know them.”

“I’ve been coming here for that long, too, and I don’t.”

“I come every other month. You come once or twice a year. It’s different.”

“Okay, so who is our biggest competition?”

“Planning to win, are you?”

I shrug. “It would be fun. What’s the prize?”

“A free box of donuts once a month for a year.”

“From there,” I say and point at the bakery.

Tobias laughs. “Yes.”

“Oh, we have to win now. Have you had her Oreo donut with the crushed cookies in the dough?”

“I have.”

“My mouth is watering just thinking of having one.”

Tobias pins me with a look I can’t decipher, and I smile.

So, he did hear me in the kitchen earlier. That's good. I can’t have him looking at me with that smirk and smoldering eye thing—not anymore. I like this new look. Even if I don’t know what it means.

“Afternoon beer?” Hudson, the guy from last night, comes up to us. He’s got a tray of pints.

“Sure,” I say, and Tobias takes one too. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Good luck.”