Page 35 of Sterling Heat

If only I could wash away my past.

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In the morning, I slip out early. I woke up minutes before my alarm at four a.m.

Leaving Enya a note, I tell her to come down to the bakery for breakfast.

When she finally appears, light purple smudges beneath her eyes are a stark reminder of her exhaustion. She didn’t sleep any better than me, but she had a better excuse than my horniness.

“Hey,” I greet her.

“Good morning. Did I wake you last night?”

“Nah,” I lie. “What can I get you for breakfast? Muffin? Protein square? Lemon cake?” I wiggle my brows, pleased that she told me yesterday how much she loves my cakes. I’m still a little irked that my brothers have been feeding her a steady supply and I had no idea she’d been around town for months.

Months where I could have gotten to know her better, sooner.

“I’ll take one of those protein squares and a decaf, black please.”

“On it.” I rush around Barnett who is ringing up a customer. Kid is tall with long limbs. He never gives me trouble and works hard. He takes care of his aunt, which is admirable since his mother dumped him with Bernadette, her sister. He’s also seventeen, which means he’s probably horny-as-fuck and can’t take his eyes off Enya.

“Barnett,” I snap, watching teenage hormones play out in his boyish face.

“Yeah.” He closes his gaping mouth and turns toward me.

“This is Enya. Enya, Barnett Matthews.”

“Nice to meet you, Barnett.”

I swear the kid who looks like a rock star blushes under Enya’s attention.

I get it, kid. I fucking get it.

I collect breakfast for my new favorite customer, handing over a medium coffee and the bakery bag. Enya offers me a warm smile and a twenty.

I scowl at her and push her hand holding the money away from me. I’m not taking a thing from her.

“I’ll see you later,” she eventually says, almost asking me, like she wants affirmation that I’ll be here for her. It’s a silly thought.

“I’ll be here.” I have work to make up for the hours I missed yesterday. Paperwork and supply orders, plus employee scheduling and managing special orders. But I deserve a day off now and again, although I don’t often take time for myself. There were years I selfishly spent on me and then more years behind bars where my only concern was myself. Work is my priority now.

Watching Enya slip toward the back door for her Honda Passport parked beside my truck, I wonder what it would be like to have other priorities in life.

When I quickly turn back to the work at hand, I collide with Rena.

“Oops.” An over-the-top giggle escapes her mouth as she covers her lips with her hand. I glance down to see my T-shirt covered in flour. Rena holds the bag in one hand. She drops the hand over her mouth and swipes it down my tee, at first hastily brushing off the white powder but eventually her hand slows and she’s spreading it more than removing it. Her palm presses more firmly at my pecs, stroking down my sternum to my waist and—

“Whoa,” I snap, stepping back from her and brusquely brushing at my tee with my knuckles. “Watch where you’re going,” I add. As well as watch your fucking hands.

With my eyes narrowed on Rena, her gaze hasn’t left my chest, where white speckles streak my dark shirt. She blatantly licks her lips before meeting my eyes. “You look like a tasty treat, boss.”

Is she kidding me with this shit? Is she . . . flirting with me? Since when? And why?

Suddenly, I’m cursing my brothers for all their teasing about my employee. There’s nothing between us. Not a whisper of attraction. But I’m suddenly questioning that thought as Rena continues to hungrily stare at me. I know that look. I’ve seen it, acted on it, used it to my advantage in the past.

This is now, though.

“Let’s keep our hands to ourselves,” I state, standing taller despite the display of flour all over my tee.