Page 79 of Sweet Surrender

“Need a ride, Cookie?”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the way my lips twitch. “Hmm. I’m pretty sure my husband might not be too thrilled with the idea of me getting in the car with some dark and mysterious man.”

“I think I can take him.”

“Really?”

Jase taps his chin, considering. “In fact, I know I can.” He looks over his shoulder and then back to me. “Quick. Get in before he finds out.”

He winks and I shake my head. Within seconds I have the bakery locked up, my purse in hand, and yank open the passenger door and slide inside. God, is this the first time I’ve sat down today?

His scent wraps around me instantly—clean, musky, and just a little like leather.

Jase looks at me for a beat, eyes flicking over my flour-dusted shirt, the tension still clinging to my shoulders. His voice is the exact opposite of how he looks when he speaks, “Rough day?”

I sink into the seat, letting my head fall back. “You have no idea.”

His smirk fades into something almost . . . compassionate. He reaches for the radio, scrolling through stations until soft rock filters through the speakers, like he knows I need something easy.

Like he actually sees me.

And just like that, the panic I’ve been holding on to all day loosens its grip. With him, I feel safe from this chaos. Or if it’s not safe, then maybe the feeling is understood. Regardless, he gets it and that’s comforting in and of itself.

Jase puts the car in drive and gives me some time to let the fact that today actually happened—that this is happening—without speaking. I close my eyes and just let the music soothe me and find an odd contentment in him quiet beside me.

“We were in the studio all day. I didn’t have my phone on because . . . simply because I’m not used to having anyone need me.” He pauses but I keep my eyes closed, lulled by the sound of his voice. “I didn’t realize news had hit until we went to leave.”

“Well, it did,” I murmur.

“You didn’t text me.”

I open my eyes and study him as he drives, pondering his statement. “Was I supposed to?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” He glances my way and then back to the road. For a man who always seems sure of himself, he’s suddenly lost his footing. It’s cute.

“What does that mean?”

He blows out a sigh like he’s trying to find his words. “You’re a fascinating woman.”

“Oh?”

“You have bouts of insecurity but then today happens—your whole life shifts—and you just, according to Sammy, handle it like a goddamn pro. That takes a lot of guts and a shit ton of fortitude. I’m proud of you.” He reaches out and puts his hand on my thigh and squeezes to reinforce his words. “I guess I thought you’d text because you needed me to come and . . . I don’t know. Help you? Rescue you?” He huffs out a laugh and removes his hand from my leg to run it through his hair before setting right back on it. “That sounds ridiculous. I’m fully aware.”

“That’s sweet of you. I was so busy, I didn’t have a single second to spare. Besides, what are you going to do other than make the situation more chaotic?”

“I know but helpless doesn’t look good on any man and that’s how I felt today when I found out you were fending off everyone on your own.” He glances over at me and his Adam’s apple bobs.

“It was chaotic but I’m pretty sure that will be the norm for a while.”

“But you said it was busy? That’s good, right? More sales? More business?”

“Yes, the Gizmo effect apparently.”

He chuckles but I keep thinking about his hand on my thigh and how his thumb absently brushes back and forth like it’s a habit. And that makes me think of his hands last night and exactly how capable they are.

I try to refocus. To redirect.

“Hey. I thought you said there was food?” My stomach growls as if on cue. The car doesn’t smell like food and I turn around to look behind us at the seats. There is nothing.