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I didn’t focus on that. Couldn’t. Not when my gaze slid over his shoulder and I saw the door to the walk-in slowly swinging closed.
Shit.
I lurched for it but was too late.
It closed with a softclick.
One that couldn’t even begin to demonstrate how fucked I was.
Because the door to the walk-in was broken. Because the freaking handle that was supposed to function to let someone out if the door shut on them didn’t work.
Because I was now trapped in this goddamned giant refrigerator with Walker Laine.
“Shit!” I hissed, moving over to the handle and jabbing at it anyway.
No surprise, the door didn’t move.
“What’s wrong?” Walker asked.
I glared over my shoulder at him, hoping he could see it in the dim overhead lights. “We’re trapped,” I snapped. “The handle is broken, so we can’t get out.”
His brows dragged together. “That seems dangerous. What if you were stuck in here and nobody was working?”
I let my glare intensify. “Well, I’m not normally confronted by annoying hockey players in the walk-in.”
A beat as he appeared unfazed by my laser eyes. “Didn’t really answer my question, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. Ugh. Why did that send a flutter through my insides?
I turned back, wrestled with the handle again. “I’m always just in and out.”
Those brows flicked up, seeming to say, “That didn’t answer my question either.”
I huffed out a sigh. “Normally I’d just call for help and one of the other bakers would come in and let me out.”
“So why don’t you do that?”
Silence.
Annoying, long silence before I had to admit, “I don’t have my phone.”
His mouth quirked.
I hated him.
Detested him.
And I still thought his little smirk was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.
“I have my phone,” he said, pulling it out of his pocket.
Thank God.
I wasn’t sure I could yell loudly enough for them to hear me out front.
“But…” He tucked it away again, voice like velvet.
“What?” I asked dread gathering in my belly.
“I’ll only let you use it if you agree to go on a date with me.”
* * *
