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Even when she thought she had no more to give, he whipped her into a frenzy. She clutched his back, reached for his muscular ass, and jerked him down to her, trapping his hard cock between them. “Give it to me now.Now.”
Angling his hips back, he lined himself up, and pitched forward. Her body went electric, every cell screaming, agitated, awake, and fully alert.
He fucked her savagely. Tucking his face into her neck, he bit down, one hand sliding under her bottom to lift her, lock her in place, giving her no room to move as his thrusts got shorter, tighter, wilder.
His head reared back, and he released a shout so loud, it filled her tiny cabin with unadulterated lust. “Goddammit, Gracie. God-motherfucking-dammit.” One last hard thrust into her, and then he slowed. He slid in and out leisurely, as if savoring every last moment. And then, he fell onto his back, rested an arm across his forehead and said, “Fire. That’s what we are. Fire.”
Grace had two perfect weeks before her world flipped upside down.
She paced behind her cabin, phone to her ear. “I can’t believe it.” Panic sent her pulse beating out of control. “Everything’s been so perfect. I thought I had another month. I don’t…I don’t know what to do. I have to go home, right? I have no choice.” Without a job…without an income…she couldn’t stay.
“Grace, slow down,” her brother said. “You gotta catch me up here.”
She stopped moving and took a breath for the first time since Santos had entered the food truck that morning. Oddly, breathing in the pine and the earthy scents of ranch life calmed her. “The guy who owns the truck. He’s back.”
“What about his broken arm?”
“It’s in a soft cast, so he feels like he can handle it. Either way, he has no choice. It’s his only income, and he has a family to feed.”
“Okay, that’s fair. Man’s got bills. He’s got a right to take his business back. But he’s got to cut a deal. More than half the profits come from your fancy pastries, so he can split things fifty-fifty.”
“He won’t. I tried. But he did offer to pay me twenty dollars an hour.”
“Dude.” Romeo let out a disgusted huff. “Come on. Let’s be honest here. Sure, the guy needs an income, but he only came back because he heard about your success. And that’s because of your singing and fancy pastries—not his fuckin’ doughnuts. He can do better than pay you hourly. He’s got to give you a stake.”
“I’ve worried about this exact thing all summer.” Every time Brodie’s PR team filmed her singing and showed off the long line waiting for her desserts, she’d get this twist of worry that Santos would see it and take it away from her.
Well, it happened.
“So, what’re you going to do?”
“There’s no negotiating with him. I tried. Bottom line, he’d rather go back to his normal income than split profits with me. So, that’s it. I’m done. Without a job or an income, how can I stay here?” Her heart squeezed so hard, she had to close her eyes, lower her head, and breathe.
Jaime.
I can’t lose him. Not yet.
God, she’d never known this kind of happiness.
Please don’t take it away from me. Please.
“Romeo.” It hurt to swallow, so she took a few more deep breaths, waiting for the knot of tension in her throat to ease.
“I’m here.” He said it softly, gently. He knew. “You gotta make it work.”
“Who’s going to hire me for four weeks? And I can’t live off the money I earned. It’s all going to Mom and Dad.” Besides, her family needed her.
Her choice to live here was totally self-indulgent.
Her brother went quiet. “You willing to give up, just like that?”
“No, but I can’t stay in town while I wait for Jaime to have some free time. Besides, Eliza can only work in the summer. She has to go back to her classroom soon. There’s no one to bake after she goes.”
“Let me ask you something. If you don’t come back, does Renzo’s go out of business? Or can we hire someone else to make the croissants? Because if you’re not somewhere where you’re special, then, Grace, you’re in the wrong place.”
Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Every time Jaime looked at her, he made her feel like there was no one else on this earth who could compare to her. But it was all so confusing. It wasn’t like Jaime wanted her tomovethere.It’s a summer fling. That’s all. A spectacular one, but still. The boundaries were clear.
Of course, it wasn’t just about Jaime. It was the joy of baking her pastries. Every time someone bit into her profiteroles and their eyes rolled back in their heads, and they moaned with pleasure, she knew she had something special. “What’re you saying? We all work for the family business. Don’t you want to?”
