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“He’s fixing my oven,” I said. “It gave out again.”
“Again? Didn’t it give out on you a few months ago? You know I can replace it for you. It’s not a problem.”
“That won’t be necessary Charlie,” I said firmly.
“That’s not what it looks like,” Charlie said, sizing Andrew up. I heard the small beginnings of a growl emanate from Andrew’s chest, and it startled me.
I looked back at him before my eyes panned up the expanse of his body and saw a predatory stare lingering in his eyes.
His daughter seemed oblivious to what was going on. She was devouring her cinnamon roll and scooping the extra icing up with her fork. I was glad. I didn’t want her remembering this blatant display of idiotic manhood.
Neither of them had a claim over me.
So both of them needed to cool their damn jets.
“Charlie, do you want a cinnamon roll or not?” I asked.
“Who is this guy?” Charlie asked, his eyes never leaving Andrew.
“He’s a friend,” I said.
“Maybe you should leave the lady alone,” Andrew said.
“No really. Who is this guy?” Charlie asked.
I sighed and closed my eyes, wishing I would evaporate into thin air.
“Not that it’s really any of your concern, but this is Andrew. Like I said, he’s a friend of mine. And this is his daughter, Rebecca.”
Charlie seemed wholly unimpressed. “To answer your question, I’d love a cinnamon roll. Why don’t I come back there and get it myself?” Charlie asked.
But before I could answer him, Andrew stepped off to the side and blocked the swinging door that stood between the front of the bakery and me.
“That isn’t necessary,” Andrew said. “I’ll get it for you.”
Charlie glared at him as Andrew dipped into the case and pulled out a cinnamon roll. He reached for a plate and set it down, then handed it over the counter. Charlie’s eyes seethed with anger, a look I’d never seen on him before. He took the plate harshly from Andrew’s hands. Then, he looked at me and forced his eyes to soften.
“How much do I owe you?” Charlie asked.
“Three seventy-five,” I said.
He looked down at the tip jar and saw the twenty-dollar bill in there. I furrowed my brow as he pulled out his wallet, watching as he pulled out three of t
hem. Three twenty-dollar bills. He shoved them into the tip jar before he picked up his cinnamon roll and then reached behind the counter and bent over. He grabbed a fork from underneath the register, his hand intentionally grazing my thigh.
I took a step back from him as my eyes widened.
“You might want to use a glove next time,” he said to Andrew.
I closed my eyes and silently willed Charlie to go away.
“Heather.”
“Yes, Andrew?” I said, opening my eyes.
“What are you doing tomorrow evening?”
I opened my eyes and looked over at him as Charlie tensed.
