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Ruby takes my hand. “It’s a valid concern. That would be really hard, but…”
“But?” I prod after a moment.
“But maybe worth the risk?”
I gulp. “I think friends is better. Friends. At least for now.”
Ruby’s lips part, but before she can speak, Aunt Barb returns, and the discussion veers to pies and charity work, and before I know it, I’m on my way back to the store to clear a space in my baking schedule for my own donation to the Boys and Girls Club auction.
I concentrate on paying it forward to my community and ignore the tangle of confusion knotting my stomach as I slip West’s present into his mail slot with a note that reads, “Something sweet to go with your dirty.”
Later that night, West sends me a text.
West: This chocolate is almost as delicious as you are.
And I swoon.
But it’s a friendly swoon, I swear.
16
WEST
I devour the chocolate she sent me, savoring every bite the way I intend to savor her pussy the next time I’m between her thighs, and wait for a text back.
I’m still waiting the next morning as I head into the shop to put the finishing touches on plans for opening day.
But still she doesn’t respond.
Not so much as an emoji.
I’m not happy. But I don’t suspect she’s playing games. Even when she was angry with me, she was frank about it. She didn’t give me the silent treatment or play the “guess why I’m mad” game. She laid it out for me, right on the street, no less.
Gigi James doesn’t mince words. She wears her heart on her sleeve and she uses that mouth.
Dear God, that mouth.
She also spoke plainly after the blow job in my library too, making it clear that we can’t be more than friends who…don’t fuck, but do things that are very fuck-adjacent.
A tad confusing, maybe. But honest.
There’s something so refreshing about that level of honesty.
There’s something wildly appealing too, about her reasons—her laser focus on her family’s business is commendable. Yet another reason to like her.
Dammit. I wish there weren’t so many. It would be a hell of a lot easier to keep my focus where it belongs—on a successful opening Friday and a solid performance at the next challenge .
It’s like I always say, timing is everything. And Gigi’s made it clear that now is not the time for anything to happen with the man across the street.
I’m still thinking about timing a few hours later as I’m walking toward Sweetie Pies on my way home and Gigi suddenly charges out onto the sidewalk and shouts, “Ms. Milton, you forgot your change!”
An older woman across the street waiting by the bus stop waves a hand. “Oh, you keep it, dear. You do such a good job.”
Gigi smiles, but shakes her head. “You’re so sweet, but this is a… large tip. I think you may have left the wrong bill by mistake.”
The woman’s smile crinkles her face in a clearly familiar pattern of wrinkles that’s rather beautiful. “Oh, take the hundred dollars, sweetheart, and go buy yourself something nice. You deserve it. Your pie and sweet smile are the best part of my week.”
“Oh my goodness, well, thank you.” Gigi presses a hand to her chest. “Thank you so much.”
She’s still standing there with her hand over her heart as Ms. Milton’s bus swallows her up and trundles her away.
I wait until the sound of the engine fades before I say, “Boo.”
Gigi jumps and turns my way, revealing the tears shining in her eyes. Before I realize I’m moving, I’m beside her, resting a gentle hand on her back. “Hey, there, love. What’s wrong? I saw what happened with your patron. That wasn’t a nice thing to hear?”
“No, it was, I just…” She shakes her head, her chin trembling for a moment before she says, “I love that I’m the best part of her week, but I hate it too. People should have better things than pie in their life. You know? They should have people who love them and bring them joy.”
Brow furrowing, I nod. “Yes, they should. But we don’t always get what we deserve. For good or for ill.”
She sniffs. “No, but she should still have someone. Ms. Milton is wonderful.” She swallows hard and lifts her chin, meeting my gaze with a look I’ve never seen in her eyes before.
She’s so…serious.
And even more real and honest. And in that moment, I decide to do whatever it takes for her to trust me with this look again.
I adore funny, sexy, kinky Gigi, but this woman with her heart in her eyes is irresistible.
“Tell me,” I say softly. “Whatever it is. You can trust me, friend.”
“But that’s the thing. I don’t know if I can just be your friend,” she says. “And that’s…scary.”
“Why?” I ask. “I don’t bite. Not unless you ask nicely and tell me how hard you like it.”
