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“What? No. I can’t.”
“Jazz,” I began. “Please?”
She sighed. “You sure?”
I nodded.
“Let me do something for it,” she said. “I’ll clean out the milk fridge.”
“You’ve done enough,” I said. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Enjoy your afternoon.”
She looked longingly at the front door.
“Seriously, go,” I urged.
“Are you going to stay open, or close early today?”
“I haven’t decided,” I lied.
“What time should I come in tomorrow morning? Four-thirty? Five?”
“Seven. I can handle the prep. I owe you that much for this morning.”
Jazz bit her lip, looking like she wanted to argue. Finally, she cocked her head to the side and said, “You’re a good person, you know that?”
I snorted. “Thanks.”
A good person, but a terrible business owner.
She grabbed her worn leather shoulder bag from the back and then all but skipped out the front door, a smile on her face.
I looked around the bakery that I’d poured my entire life into.
Time. Sweat equity. Passion. And a shit-ton of money.
And it was on the brink of failure.
My dream was a failure.
Iwas a failure.
I stifled a sob that threatened to erupt from my lips before mashing it down. Crying wouldn’t change the situation.
I needed a miracle.
Chapter5
The jackhammer drillingjust outside the bakery had my teeth rattling in my head. It was just past six in the morning, and I’d already had two cups of coffee and my first tray of miniature fruit tarts were cooling.
It had been several days since my night with Slash. My sheets had been changed, the whisker burns on my neck and cheeks were gone, and the soreness between my legs had disappeared.
It was as though he had never been.
I was already in a shit mood, and my fuse was short. The noise of the jackhammer sounded like it was coming from inside the building it was so loud.
“Good morning,” Jazz chirped as she came in through the back door.
Her bright smile diminished when I glared at her.
