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It pulls a surprised chortle out of me, but I frown when I remember the reason I called. “Hey, listen, I know we planned to meet up at noon. But...one of my dad’s employees is out sick, so he asked me to help at the bakery while he makes deliveries.” I chew at my lip and add, “I won’t be able to leave until later.”
There’s a brief pause before he says, “All right.”
I trace the edge of the counter with my thumb. “You’re not mad?”
“No,” he snorts. “I understand you have to help your dad. I’ll see you later.”
Brandon doesn’t sound upset. But with him, I never know until I’m alone in his grasp like a helpless prey in the spider web.
“Okay.” I relax my shoulders. “I’ll text you when my dad gives me the go-ahead to leave.”
“Sure.”
“See you, Brandon,” I say sweetly, remembering the euphoric taste of his lips.
His low groans trigger a warm feeling. As if reading my mind, he rasps, “Don’t worry, little artist. I plan on kissing you many more times.” With that, he ends the call.
I massage my neck, yearning for his greedy mouth and something else.
I compose myself again when customers start filing into the bakery back to back.
Running out of cranberry muffins, I ask for a moment to retrieve the second batch.
A slender, dark-haired beauty with pale skin and moss-green eyes enters after I return to the register. She appears to be in her early twenties, dressed casually in a black tee, blue boyfriend jeans, and white slide-on shoes. Something is intriguing about her. Hard to miss.
Once I ring up the customer before me, she steps forward and studies the display case, linking her bony fingers together.
“Hi, welcome to McNeils,” I cheerfully greet. “What would you like today?”
Her unsettling gaze pins me for a lengthy moment before she looks at the muffin case again.
“Someone very special to me liked my mom’s blueberry muffins.” Her voice is soft, yet there’s a dark undertone. “I tried to bake my own once, but they didn’t turn out so good.” She flicks her piercing green eyes to me as she adds, “He still ate them and told me they were delicious. He was always so kind.”
I manage a smile as I mutter, “He sounds like a sweet guy.”
Her pale pink lips twist into a smile that seems sinister. “He was. But he betrayed me, gave his heart to another.”
My throat goes taut.
What’s up with this chick?
“Um, is there anything you’d like to purchase?” I ask, subtly trying to get rid of her.
She nods to the encasement on the left. “Two chocolate chip cookies, a brownie, and of course, a blueberry muffin.”
I feel her watchful gaze as I place her orders into a paper bag. “Is that all for today?”
“That’s all.” She angles her head, shamelessly studying me. “You’re very pretty.”
“Thanks. So are you.” I ring up her purchase and tell her the amount.
She takes wads of crumpled cash from her pocket, handing me a twenty.
I open the register to give her change.
“High school senior?” she asks, putting a dollar into the tip jar. But the undertone makes it sound as if she already knows the answer.
I keep my voice courteous as I speak. “Yeah, I’m only helping out for today. This is my dad’s bakery.”
