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“I told you already.” Lennox rolled her eyes, sighing as ifshewere the adult, talking to a child who hadn’t been listening. One more time, she held up Sachi’s tiny sock. “I’ve always wanted a baby sister.”
* * *
SAM
Sam heldMarguerite’s elbow as they walked through the club. An act of chivalry, not support. His favorite feisty older client didn’t need to lean on him anymore. Not the way she had in the beginning. Made him damn proud, this spirited, determined lady.
“Great job today, Marguerite. And thank you again for rearranging your schedule for me while I try to organize babysitting arrangements.”
“Happy to do it, Daddy.” Red flushed her delicate cheeks as her lips puckered into an O. “My goodness, I suppose I shouldn’t be calling you that. I read those spicy romance novels, I know what ‘Daddy’ means these days. I hope you’re not offended by a harmless old woman.”
He gave her a big smile. Added a wink, for good measure. “You can call me whatever you want.” He squeezed her hand between his body and his biceps, the way he knew she liked.
“You’re teasing me with those muscles again.”
“You teased me first, with that ‘harmless old woman’ comment. I know you’re a firecracker. You probably have men courting you everywhere you go.”
“Even here, at the gym?” she asked, returning his wink.
“If I wasn’t in a relationship, I’d have already asked for your number.”
“Oh, you charmer, you,” she said, shaking her head.
As they approached the front of the club, Frances rose from a stool. The club’s future physiotherapist was still in the process of setting up her workspace in the rear of the building, but she’d taken a break from measuring and painting to watch her grandmother’s personal training session. Like a hawk.
Fine by him, he had nothing to hide. From anybody.
“Frances, darling, it’s wonderful to see you here.” Love and pride filled Marguerite’s voice. “I’m so glad you’ve joined these delightful young men in their mission to fitten people up. See what I did there?” She elbowed Sam’s ribs. “Maybe you should hire me as your marketing department.”
“I’ll talk to Brian about it today,” he said as Frances stepped out from behind the counter to kiss her grandmother’s cheek.
“Hi, Grandma. I’ll walk out to your car. It’ll give us a few minutes to visit and give Sam a chance to check his phone before it dings and pings itself to death.”
“That would be lovely.” Marguerite relinquished his arm to take her granddaughter’s. “See you in a few days, Sam. And congratulations on your new bundle of joy.”
“Thank you.” A nod and wave later, he had the front desk to himself—sort of. He had to share these few spare minutes with his phone. Wouldn’t be so bad if all the notifications Frances had heard originated from Leigh.
Not her style. She didn’t push, demand or chase. The big question was, did she wait?
A quick scroll through the notifications showed him exactly what he didn’t want to see—she hadn’t texted. Hadn’t called.
Ten after eight. Unless she had extra baking to do, she’d be at home right now. Probably curled on the couch with Lennox and the puppy, having a peaceful evening. Or she could be sitting at her desk near the back window, plotting and planning. Designing baked goods that looked too good to eat, but tasted too good to simply admire. Things she was passionate about. Great at. She was so damn beautiful while she worked.
Fuck, he missed her. If all he could do was watch her from across the room, he’d do it. Even that was wishful thinking. Free time of any amount was a thing of the past. It didn’t matter what he wanted or wished. He couldn’t give her what she wanted. What she deserved.
He dropped into a chair and swiveled away from the club’s main area. Closed his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his head. “Shit.”
“You gave up on ‘sugar?’”
Hands still at the back of his head, he spun the chair around to face the voice that’d awoken every cell in his body. The sight of her standing at the counter, smiling at him, took his breath away.
“If you’ve given up on sugar, I’ll have to take these away,” she said, lightly shaking a white bakery box.
“Your sugar cookies?” He stood as she nodded. “My mouth is watering just thinking about them.”
“Then I guess I’d better leave them for you.”
Their hands touched as she nudged the box forward on the counter. The smallest touch, innocent and incidental. Yet the connection was immediate. Intense. Like strong magnets drawn together, fighting not to be separated. But they did separate—because she pulled away.
