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With a sigh, I looped around and parked down the block in one of the few spots not destroyed by the construction crew’s jackhammering bonanza.
What the hell was going on? Why was my neighborhood being torn apart?
I grabbed the brown bag of books and locked my car. I turned the corner and halfway down the block I saw a lone figure wearing a leather cut leaning against the wall of the bakery. His eyes were covered by a pair of aviators and his hair looked like the wind had been blowing through it.
I stopped walking instantly, nerves skating up my spine.
He wasn’t supposed to be here.
I was never supposed to see him again.
He turned his head and froze when he saw me.
I began to walk toward him, slow and uneasy.
When I was a few feet from him, I paused again. Both of us were silent. Finally, I blurted out, “What are you doing here?”
His gaze was unreadable behind his sunglasses. “You look tired, Brooklyn.”
I glared. “Thanks for noticing. What are you doing here, Slash?”
“Passing through town. Thought I’d say hello.”
“Hello.” My keys were still in my hand, so I turned and marched to the front door of the bakery. I fumbled with the lock, wanting to escape him, wanting to escape the pounding of my heart, wanting to escape my body’s reaction to him.
“Can I come in for a cup of coffee?” he asked.
“Bakery’s closed today.”
“Did your machine break?”
I glared at him over my shoulder. “I’m not interested in another night with you, Slash. We agreed. One night and one night only.”
When he didn’t reply, I turned around and finally got the door open. I stepped into the bakery and was about to close the door in his face when he braced his arm against it. “It wasn’t enough,” he said gruffly. “One night with you could never be enough.”
His words hit me hard, and I felt them in my chest.
I could barely control myself around him. It wasn’t fair.
“My life is complicated.”
“Complicated,” he repeated slowly. “You seeing someone?”
“No,” I said.
His tight shoulders relaxed minutely, enough for me to notice. “Can we please do this inside? I don’t want to have this conversation in the open.”
“There is no conversation,” I said. “I don’t want to be a warm bed you crash in when you roll through town.”
I tried closing the door again, but it still didn’t budge because Slash blocked it.
It took all my willpower to shut him down.
“What did you mean when you said your life was complicated?” he asked.
Realizing I wasn’t going to get rid of him so easily, I finally relented and stepped back. He came inside the bakery immediately and shut the door. He removed his glasses, and I met his hazel gaze head-on.
“I’ve added catering to my resume,” I remarked blandly. “So, between the bakery hours and the catering jobs, I don’t have time for anything else. That meansyou.”
