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I didn’t like that thought. I didn’t like that thought at all.
“My dad never had any problems in the neighborhood,” I said quietly. “Not in all the years he had his shop there. If anything…”
“What?”
“It’s strange,” I said quietly, pulling away just long enough to look up at him. “The neighborhood has been going through a sort of renaissance. Buildings have been getting bought and cleaned up and painted. Why did someone target my bakery instead of those buildings? Why didn’t they steal anything?”
“What were they going to do? Take the espresso machine?” Slash asked.
“They would’ve if they’d been a smart thief,” I murmured. “That thing cost eight grand.”
“Eight grand? And you were driving a piece-of-shit car…”
“Business expense,” I muttered. “And the car still ran.”
“I can see us fighting about this forever,” he stated.
“So, let’s stop fighting about it now.” I placed a hand on his chest. “I have a brand-new car, compliments of my BBD.”
He raised his brows. “BBD?”
“Biker Baby Daddy.”
“You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did.”
“You don’t actually call me that, do you?”
I snorted. “No. Jazz does, though.”
He shook his head.
“Do we have a better name for you?” I asked in amusement.
Slash fell silent and his gaze was relentless. Tension crackled between us, and all levity fled.
“Woman,” he said softly. “You’re not ready for the title I want.”
A little breath of air escaped my mouth.
He cupped the back of my head. “What do you want to eat?”
“Eat?” I repeated.
“Yeah, eat.” He smiled. “It’s been a few hours since I’ve fed you.”
“And we did burn a few calories,” I said breathlessly.
His eyes darkened. “More than a few.”
“Pancakes,” I blurted out. “I want pancakes.”
“Then pancakes you’ll get. But first…” Slash backed me up toward the bed. “I’m hungry too…”
* * *
The moment my eyes opened, I sprang out of bed and ran for the bathroom. After I was finished upchucking, I rinsed out my mouth and went back to bed. It took me a moment to realize I was alone. Slash’s boots and leather cut were gone.
