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“Absolutely fucking not,” I snap.
Her eyes widen, and she leans back slightly. Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around her forearm to keep her from running away, which it seems she might do, although she’s really got nowhere to go. She’s got no car, the bus doesn’t come out here, and she’s not leaving my fucking sight.
“What are you trying to say to me?” she asks on a hiss.
With a snort, I lean forward. “Babe, I’m not trying to say a goddamn thing. I’m telling you that you are not closing your shop.”
She looks like she’s either going to laugh or cry. I can’t quite tell. But I don’t give much of a fuck either. She’s not giving up her bakery. Not only is she amazing at what she does, but that’s my parents’ bar, and it needs some good memories. I already made one there, fucking her against the counter, which was fucking amazing.
“Elvis, it’s a losing business. Nobody even knows it exists, and I’ve tried everything. I’m twenty-three and don’t have a lot of bills, but I still have rent to pay.”
My lips twitch into a smirk. “I got your rent covered for the next six months, and I’ll get business flowing. Just wait and see.”
“That’s too much,” she whispers.
Leaning forward, I tug her toward me by the grip that I still have on her forearm, and I touch my mouth to hers.
“It’s not, sweetness. It’s just enough.”
Slamming my lips against hers, I kiss her hard, then break it before I stand and tug her to her own as well. Cupping her cheeks, I look directly into her eyes.
“Just e-fucking-nough.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
SHAWN
As I stand in the middle of my bakery, I look around and wonder where I’ve gone wrong. I think about all of the money that will be completely blown here if I allow Elvis to help me out. It’s already been months, yet I can hardly get anyone to walk through the door, let alone buy anything.
“I really think I should just go to work for someone else. Maybe I was too ambitious and started this too young. I think I should have tried it later.”
Elvis snorts behind me. I spin around and face him, tilting my head back as I look up into his eyes. He is watching me, although he is expressionless as he does. I can tell he has something on his mind, but he’s not voicing it.
Instead, he just watches me, waiting for me to continue. “This isn’t working, and staying open longer isn’t going to change that, Elvis.”
He pushes off the wall he’s leaning against and saunters toward me, his boots hitting the floor with each step he takes, echoing in the small space. When he stops in front of me, he’s so close that I have to crane my neck hard to look up at him.
He dips his chin, his gaze searching mine for a second as he watches me, then he lifts his hand and cups my cheek. I feel his thumb slide across my bottom lip. His gaze follows his thumb’s path, then he flicks his eyes to meet mine again.
“You are meant for this, sweetness. This is going to not only work, but it will also thrive. Trust me. I believe in you. Let me fucking do this.”
Tears prick my eyes. I don’t think a single person in my entire life has told me that they believe in me, not in any capacity. And here he is, telling me everything I didn’t realize I needed to hear.
But I do.
I need it.
I take a deep breath and give him a smile. It’s a bit forced, but I’m trying. “Okay, do you have any suggestions?”
He grins. “I thought you’d never ask.”
I’m sure he doesn’t know much about bakeries, since this used to be his parents’ bar, and he rides motorcycles and delivers kegs of beer, but I decide he knows something about business. Since he’s offered to help fund this venture of mine, maybe he’s got some ideas for me.
I’m at the point where I will literally try anything.
Anything.
