by Asha King
Gina pressed her lips tight together and stared straight ahead.
At last Brennen turned back to the road, pushing the car into drive again. “I did want to apologize for the other night,” he began as he pulled back onto the road. The vehicle jostled on the uneven ground and water streaked over the windshield, the blades fighting hard to keep up with the rain.
“For?” she said stupidly, even when she knew what he would say.
“Kissing you.”
She gave him a wry half-grin, gazing at him as he drove. “You’re sorry for that?”
“I’m sorry if it just added to the creepy. But I don’t think too clearly around you and apparently that means jumping way ahead of myself.”
She wanted to tell him it was okay, that it was more than okay. Just that taste had left her giddy and breathless. But she said nothing.
“I remember the first time I saw you. Which was unfortunately at your dad’s funeral.”
Gina stiffened, hunched down deeper in the seat, her heart hammering as she worried where this was going.
“You had this big white and yellow daisy,” he said softly.
He remembers that? Her dad liked daisies. He preferred wildflowers—dandelions, Queen Anne’s lace, clover, and of course daisies. She’d hated the roses Maureen picked. Her dad would’ve hated them too.
“And you were so sad,” Brennen continued. “Everyone gave condolences to your stepmother and completely ignored you. I didn’t really understand it, couldn’t put words to it, but I just wanted to gather you up and hold you and promise everything would turn out okay. But I couldn’t. And I grew up seeing you at the bakery sometimes...and I still couldn’t say it. Plus you never seemed to like me so it would’ve been really weird if I had.”
“I liked you.” She blinked as her eyes grew wet and itchy. “Except for the stealing. And the water balloons. And the vandalizing the store—”
“Okay, no, not that last one. I bowed out of that when I knew where they were going. And I stopped hanging out with them shortly thereafter, but mostly because we got caught stealing a car and Dad threatened me with military school.”
So that was what did it. And he’d done it—straightened out and changed his ways. “You came back and paid for the cookies that time, though. I liked you after that.” Wrong thing to admit. This’ll just cause trouble. But she was tired of hiding, drawn to him like the flower to the sun after only knowing rain.
“I came on a little strong, Gina, and I’m sorry if that freaked you out. But I still see that sad girl there and I’d take on the whole world to fix things and make you smile.”
Her heart hurt, grief rising. Not just for the loss of her family, the life and security she never had, but for how she’d never believed in having more. Crushed under her stepmother, scrambling at what she thought was the one and only key out of there—finding her father’s will, figuring out what she’d been lied to about and what else Maureen might be up to—she hadn’t let herself dream of much more.
But there was more. Sitting next to her. And it was wrong, it would lead to complications and entanglements she couldn’t afford, but the thought of ignoring him or pushing him away was too much to bear. Even if doing so was likely the right thing to do.
“Pull over,” she said quietly.
Brennen’s heavy shoulders fell and hands tightened on the wheel. “It’s not that much farther. I’m sorry, just let me take you—”
“Pull over, Brennen,” she said more firmly.
His jaw ticced but he didn’t argue, swinging the Mustang off to the right. The wheels rolled over a dip in the road, where the trees arched and partially hid the vehicle from view. He twisted in his seat to face her, mouth already open to object.
Gina leaned forward and kissed him before he could speak.
Chapter Four
Brennen’s world stopped, just the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears as Gina’s lips met his.
It was the last thing he expected but everything he wanted, the moment she didn’t just return a kiss but actively sought one, her mouth gentle but eager. It was chaste but her nearness already had desire coursing through his body and her touch just amplified it, his hands coiling into fists to resist reaching for her, allowing her to set the pace entirely. Her scent filled his nose, the trace sweetness of baked goods from her long hours in the kitchen, and she made a soft moaning sound as his tongue brushed hers.
Gina pulled back and blinked up at him, her mouth still near enough for him to taste and her voice low enough that he barely heard it over the rain beating against the car. “I didn’t want to do that while you were driving.”
“Appreciated, though folding the car around a tree might have been worth it, too. At least for me.”
“This can’t be anything.” Sadness crept through her dark eyes, her gaze trailing over his face. “But that’s not because of you—”
Brennen kissed her and she yielded, tilting her head back as he cupped her jaw, dragged his fingers back over her neck and through her damp curls. Her hands grasped his upper arms and clutched him, drawing him nearer, but the front seat of the car was awkward and confining, seatbelts making it difficult to twist. For a moment he felt like a teenager necking in parked car, but as absurd as it should be, there was no ignoring the spark of hungry want. He might as well have never touched a woman before with how he felt, drowning in her presence, feeling her responding as he kissed along her throat and slid his hand down her back.
“This is already everything,” he whispered against her neck and she shivered. Her skin was damp against his hands, clothing still soaked through. “Let me take you back to my house to change.”
“I’m expected back,” she said with a frustrating little sigh as his lips moved over her collarbone.
“When?”
“Um...mmm...twenty minutes?”
Brennen popped the lock on his seatbelt and angling out of it, did the same with hers. He leaned back a moment to adjust the driver’s seat back; there wasn’t much room, just a few inches with his tall frame already pushing the limits of the space, but she was tiny enough to fit right in his arms. Her eyes were glassy with lust and heavy-lidded, lips swollen from kissing and drawing his attention.
He wrapped his arms around her and drew her near; any resistance faded as their lips met again and she climbed onto his lap, her knees straddling his hips. His hands grazed her back, grasped her ass and squeezed; her breasts pressed against his chest, soaking his shirt, and his cock was achingly hard against her pussy. He’d never been so frustrated, wanting to drive her back to his house and take her to bed, consequences be damned, but this sweet torture was better than nothing at all.
Gina sat back panting, her fingers tracing along his brow. “I’m sorry, I’m getting you wet.”
“Yeah, it’s supposed to be the other way around.” He grinned and a blush darkened her cheeks, her gaze swiftly averting and body tensing in his arms. Damn it, what the hell did he say now?
“I should—”
“Get back, I know...” He studied her for a moment, the world falling away as their breaths fogged the windows and blurred everything outside.
I don’t date, she’d said. She’d grown up with that horrible stepmother and, from what he gathered, worked around the clock. It dawned on him, then, what she wasn’t saying.
“Gina...have you never done this before?”
She raised her hand and wagged her finger at him. “Do not make fun of me. I see that bratty kid there still and—”
He grasped her finger with his lips and licked the tip, sliding his teeth along the side and her eyes closed, breath hitched.
“You set the pace.” He kissed her palm, her wrist, and slid her close again, hands careful to be gentle, to read her body language before pushing. When her head tilted down again, he took her mouth, his tongue mimicking precisely the rhythm he’d like to use with the rest of her. She fisted his shirt, her body rocking against his, and he ran his fingers up her hips, u
nder her shirt, trailing along her spine and bracing for any tension. But she melted completely, soft and hot.
His borrowed button down shirt had fallen aside, just her damp dark T-shirt left and clinging to her torso. He carefully grasped the edge, worked it up just high enough to bare her stomach, and then leaned back to meet her eyes in question.
She shook her head, her lower lip trembling. “My shirt stays on.”
He was disappointed but didn’t press, instead kissing her tenderly, hoping she realized it didn’t matter, it was about what she wanted. Little by little she opened up more, kissing him back, allowing his hands to drift under her shirt. The bare skin along her right side was raised and uneven, scar tissue if he didn’t miss his guess, but he didn’t linger there as to not make her uncomfortable, instead letting his hands travel upward. When he came to her breasts, she shuddered and gasped, leaning into his touch.
He caressed and massaged, enjoying the soft moans of pleasure she made and the way she arched against him as his thumbs brushed her nipples. He longed to taste her, to bring one firm breast to his mouth and lose himself in the feel of her.
Brennen kissed down her throat again as she undulated against him, his straining cock practically on fire with desire. “Are you wet everywhere yet?”
“Yes,” came her breathy whisper, her hands grasping his head and running through his hair.
“Can I feel?”
She leaned back and stared at him, her eyes dark with arousal, and licked her full lips. “Yes.”
He fought to calm his racing heart, gaze trailing over her still-clothed body. Part of him still wanted to take her back somewhere warm and dry where they had hours to themselves. But that might not be an option any time soon, and as she’d basically admitted, she’d never had this. Never been a clumsy teen in a car, and even if she had, the thought of some inexperienced guy pawing her, pushing her, didn’t sit right with him.
He popped the button on her pants, and gently slid down the zipper fly. His fingers teased along the waistband of her cotton panties, slid over the material to cup her mound and feel her dampness soak through the fabric.
A tremor racked her entire body, her eyes closing. “Oh my God...”
Masculine pride rushed through him, watching her react to his touch—the way she bit her bottom lip and moaned, the way her hands gripped his forearms and dug her nails in, the way the scent of her arousal filled the close air between them. His fingers swept up and then under the waistband of her underwear, down into her slick depths. Her hips rocked against him, encouraging his touch.
“Tell me how it feels.” He watched the slow, heavy blink of her eyes, breath panting past her parted lips.
“Better than anything.” She squeezed his arms and moaned.
“I’ve wanted this for years, Gina,” he whispered, sliding one finger into her gently as his thumb circled her clit. “To watch you come for me.”
She kissed him hard, trembling with each thrust of his finger inside her. This hot and wet, it wouldn’t take her long, and as much as he wanted to draw it out, nothing would be enough when he couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go. She worked against his hand as he brushed her clit, and the sound of her frantic gasping breaths filled the car. At last she seized and cried out, her back arching for a second and pussy clenching his finger as climax tore through her, then Gina collapsed against him.
The sight of her satiated was more than enough to quiet his own selfish needs, even as his erection throbbed painfully, wanting to be buried where his hand was. He slid his fingers from between her legs and held her while she panted, his lips skimming her temple. “Next time I’ll taste you when you come.”
She shivered but didn’t object, didn’t correct him and say there wouldn’t be a next time.
Maybe Gina would yet be his.
Chapter Five
Midsummer was silent before five in the morning on a Saturday, even the usual early risers electing to stay in bed. Around six-thirty, Gina knew a few joggers would head down Main Street, but that was it until after seven.
Though her early mornings were busy, Gina at least appreciated the peace and quiet. She went through the shop’s rear entrance directly into the kitchen, flipped the lights on, and yawned as she moved sleepily through her early chores. She hadn’t slept well, her mind on Brennen all night and precisely what his capable hands had done to her, a blush creeping up her cheeks at the thought. Chastising herself yet again wasn’t going to solve things, though. For now, she’d just watch how things went. As long as she kept him away from Maureen, it might not blow up in her face.
The day’s order, dictated by Maureen, was posted to the board by the door—a listing of what she wanted prepared in the morning, what was on special, and what local restaurants had ordered to have on hand for the day. Juggling it all so food was prepared before they opened at nine was all on Gina to do.
She immediately got out supplies, the routine a second nature now, and started with a cherry pie and an apple crumble as the coffee house down the road would be picking them up seven.
Just as she turned the oven on to preheat and started toward the freezer for her premade pie shells, something rattled in the front room.
Gina paused and frowned in the direction of the closed curtain leading out of the kitchen. It was barely five in the morning—no one would be up at this hour to knock on the door, and the sign posted clearly stated their hours.
Probably a stray cat pawing at the door. There were a couple in the area—someone local fed them—and they could get a little bold when they knew food was inside. She shook her head and continued for the freezer, popping the lid and lifting a shell from the stack.
Steps shuffled on tile.
A chill walked down her spine—that time she’d definitely heard something. Something near. Not outside.
The front door was locked. It had to be, she locked up herself at night. Granted, yesterday had been a little...unusual. Brennen had dropped her off near home, she packed up some dry clothes and an umbrella then headed back to work to change and continue her shift. But the rest of the afternoon and evening went on without a hitch. She’d cleaned up the front, locked the door, and then cleaned the kitchen and locked the back. Like always.
Didn’t I? That was the problem with routines—when they could be done without thinking, sometimes a slight deviation wasn’t noticed.
Gina abandoned the pie shell on the counter and stepped softly toward the kitchen. She hadn’t even been to the main area of the bakery yet—she didn’t bother until it was time to restock the displays and recount the float in the cash register. The space between the bottom of the curtain and the floor was dark, no lights on in the adjoining room and outside streetlamps doing little to break through the small windows.
She paused by the curtain, fingers trembling, and took a deep breath. It was probably nothing, and God knew what Maureen would do to her if she roused the local police for a racoon or something. Her hand wrapped around the curtain and drew it back.
Gina peered around the corner into the dark shop front. “Hello?”
The room was black with shadows, faint streetlight adding a glimmer to the glass display cases. Her heart beat painfully hard, and her curly hair shifted restlessly on her shoulders as she craned her head back and forth. The room was still and tense. No sign of movement. Front door was closed.
She’d feel a whole lot better if she double checked it was locked, however.
She swiftly stepped forward, her feet padding lightly on the smooth tile floor, making her way past the counter and displays toward the glass front door.
Then her feet halted abruptly.
The CLOSED sign hanging on the front door danced back and forth, as if impossibly hit by a breeze.
Or if someone had just opened and closed the door.
Gina stumbled back in a rush. The hell with Maureen, she needed to call—
Something hard and heavy collided with the back of her head. Her vision spun,
feet flew out from under her, and she crashed on the tile floor.
Gina blinked sluggishly, her eyes blurring and the heavy throbbing pain in her head crowding black across her vision. The black shadow of a figure moved across the floor and glass shattered.
The ground swirled under her and Gina closed her eyes at last.
****
Gina didn’t actually black out.
Her memories were jumbled, but the EMT assured her she didn’t have a concussion and aside from a bruise on her skull would be just fine. “Lucky,” they had said repeatedly.
She sat in the back of the ambulance as morning wore on after repeating her statement several times. Police milled about the front of the shop, and she closed her eyes to all the chaos. She still didn’t know what happened. Someone had been behind her, that much she knew. Probably hiding in the shadows behind the cash register—she hadn’t investigated there, too focused on ensuring the front door was locked.
The register and the lockbox under the counter had both been broken into, every penny taken. Maureen preferred the late night bank drop to be done Saturday night, at the end of the shop’s work week, which meant a good amount of cash was lying about.
Gone. All of it gone. The thief had smashed the glass front door on his way out, tossing the old antique register—one of the last remaining pieces from when the shop was Bella’s—out onto the street to make his hasty exit.
No security cameras inside, or in front of any of the shops along Main Street. The crime rate in Midsummer was so low, no one expected robberies. Already the police were discussing how it was likely an out-of-towner, someone passing through, but Gina had to wonder. The bakery was the only shop hit. How did they know what kind of money would be there?
And why hit it early in the morning when I arrived, not late at night?
Maureen stood outside the shop speaking to a pair of officers, her hair and clothing perfectly put together and absolutely nothing out of place like she’d woken up that way. Her eyes were stern but she was playing the part of concerned business owner and stepmother, repeating, “Heavens, who could do such a thing?” But when she looked at Gina and the others weren’t paying attention, her expression made it plainly clear: Maureen thought this was Gina’s fault. Gina hadn’t locked up properly, Gina hadn’t called for help when she heard something. Maureen even went so far as to suggest someone had perhaps slipped through the kitchen when Gina went out to investigate the front and that was why she was hit from behind.