by Katie Allen
“Baloney?” He looked a little bemused.
“Quit changing the subject to my adorable colloquialisms. Tell me about the flirting. Are you actually trying to get me to believe that women aren’t throwing themselves against you like those people in the Velcro suits?”
“The people in the what?”
“Never mind. I have a YouTube addiction. Ignore my simile and get back to the flirting.”
He shifted, his face back to its usual poker-like state. From his fidgety movements, however, it was obvious that he was ill at ease. “Women don’t throw themselves at me.”
“I don’t believe it.” The doorbell rang as a pair of twentysomething runners entered, wearing several layers that still managed to show off their sleek curves. Leah was impressed. When she dressed in layers, she tended to look like a grumpy snowman—well, snow-person. Both women immediately looked at Hamilton, and Leah smiled wickedly. This was a perfect experiment to prove Hamilton’s ridiculous hypothesis false. The majority of women had to flirt with him, or Leah’s faith in her gender was shaken to its core. After all, if someone could look at someone as beautiful and buff as Hamilton and not try to drag him to a cave by his short hair, that was just messed up.
“Good morning!” Leah said, sounding much too perky. “What can we get you?”
“Nonfat decaf latte, please,” one of the women said without dragging her eyes off Hamilton, whose gaze was firmly fixed on his own coffee.
“Same, but soy,” the other said, also looking at Hamilton like she wanted to have him for dessert.
Since they were out on a run, the women would most likely pass on the more sugary items in the bakery, but, as she’d told Hamilton earlier, Leah was hardwired to feed people, even strenuous exercisers. “Would you like a scone or a caramel roll with that?”
The women finally looked away from Hamilton in order to give Leah matching appalled stares. “Of course not,” the first one said. “Who would pollute their bodies that way? All that sugar...” She gave a tiny shudder.
Leah brushed off the sweets-related snub. After all, it was nothing she hadn’t heard before. It just meant more cookies for her and those who loved sugary things. She rang up the coffees and then busied herself making them.
“Excuse me.” The first woman’s voice was as sweet as the scorned caramel roll. Leah glanced up at her, but her gaze was fixed on Hamilton. “Do you go to Broadway CrossFit?”
He didn’t answer.
“Ham,” Leah said, handing the woman her coffee. “You’re up.” It was hard not to smile. She’d always figured that Ham was so rude to her because she annoyed him, but it looked as if that was just Ham.
He gave her a look that she chose to ignore.
“Are you a CrossFitter?” Leah asked, having an even harder time keeping her grin from peeking out. “That would explain so much.”
“No.” His answer was almost a growl, and Leah hurried to turn back to the cappuccino machine so she could hide her smile.
“Oh.” The customer gave a small laugh. “I thought I’d seen you there before. I’m there so much, it’s like my second home.”
Hamilton didn’t respond. When Leah glanced over her shoulder at him, he was staring at her back. She gave him a “what?” look, but he just scowled harder, so she returned to making the second woman’s soy latte.
“You should come by the gym sometime.” The woman was nothing if not persistent. Leah admired her confidence. If Leah had hit on someone who’d blown her off as completely as Hamilton just did, she would’ve curled up in a humiliated ball under the butcher-block table for a month, only emerging to renew her stash of cookies. “It’s an amazing workout.”
Leah felt a tug on her braid, so she turned her head. Hamilton stood right behind her.
“I have to go. When are you leaving?”
She grimaced. “Not until six-thirty. Today’s a long day.”
“Don’t leave until I get here.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want you walking alone.”
Leah digested his words as she smiled at the second woman and handed her the latte. Part of her felt as if she should protest that she was an independent, self-sufficient woman and that she would be just fine walking the eight blocks to her apartment building. The other, larger part didn’t want to walk home in the growing darkness, expecting Jude to jump out at every corner. She could walk home by herself, and she would be fine, but she would rather have company. “Okay.”
He blinked, looking slightly surprised. “Okay?”
“Did you want me to argue?” The doorbell chimed as the two women exited. “Because I can. I’m quite good at arguing, actually.”
“I’m aware of that.” Instead of annoying her, his gloomy tone just made her laugh. “No, I don’t want you to argue.”
“Okay, then. I’ll see you tonight then.”
He didn’t head toward the kitchen, instead hovering by the pastry case.
Eyeing him curiously, she asked, “Don’t you have to get to work?”
“Yes.”
“So...”
“What?”
“Why aren’t you leaving then?”
“I’m going.” His gaze darted toward the pastries one last time, and the light bulb turned on over Leah’s head.
“Oh, did you want something to go? You don’t have to ask, you know. Feel free to take whatever. You’ve done enough work to earn a month’s worth of sweets.”
Looking pleased, he reached for a Danish.
“Can I ask you something?”
He gave her a sideways glance before refocusing on the pastry. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Too bad. We’ve bonded over frosting now. We’ve egg-washed croissants together. That’s a lifetime pass for question-asking.”
He paused with the Danish an inch from his mouth. “Sometimes you don’t make any sense at all.”
“Sure I do.” She watched as he took a bite. “Are you into guys?”
He choked on his mouthful of Danish. Recovering, he turned to stare at her. Even now, he finished chewing and swallowing before he answered. She was impressed by his ingrained manners. It was a constant battle for her to not be constantly spewing crumbs as she ate. “Why would you think that?”
“Because two fine specimens from the womanly team were just here, flirting with you, and you acted as if they were alien bug creatures.”
“They weren’t flirting with me.”
“They were.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Just because you say the opposite of what I say, doesn’t make it true.” His eyelid was starting to twitch again, and Leah felt the usual mix of guilt and evil satisfaction that she’d gotten under his skin.
“But it’s true because it’s true,” she said.
“You’re not making sense again.”
“I’m making a huge amount of sense. Those women were hot, they were flirting with you, and you were not having it. I mean, from the way they were tossing their hair around, you would’ve thought hair-tossing was an event at the Crossfit Games.”
“Fine.” He held up his hands, one still cradling the remaining half-Danish. “They were flirting. Why do you think I’m gay?”
“You didn’t even look at them, much less answer their questions.”
“I don’t know them.”
“That’s why you talk to people you’re attracted to. That way, you get to know them. With these two, it couldn’t have been more obvious that you weren’t interested, not even if you’d held a blinking sign above your head that said NOPE NOPE NOPE NOT INTERESTED in all-caps. Those women were hot, so I thought maybe they weren’t your type.”
“They weren’t my type, but not because they’re women.”
“What’s your type, then?”
He met her
eyes for a molten second before looking away. “Not them.”
With a groan, Leah let her head tip back. “You can’t say that! Now I’m going to be dying of curiosity.”
Finishing off his Danish, Hamilton gave a small shrug. “You’ll live. I’ll see you tonight.” He headed through the swinging door into the kitchen. Leah started to follow him, determined to wrestle the answer out of him if she needed to, but the doorbell rang, signaling customers.
Swallowing her groan, she turned toward the elderly couple who’d just walked in and smiled. She’d see Hamilton tonight. She’d get the answer out of him then. As Q always complained, her nagging skills were on point.
Chapter Six
She’d just finished wiping off the last table when someone knocked at the front door. Glancing through the glass door, she smiled when she saw Hamilton.
Pushing on the release bar, she opened the door. “Hey!”
He gave her a wordless tip of his head as he stepped inside.
“I’m all done. Just let me turn off the kitchen lights, and I’ll be ready to go.” She hurried into the kitchen, pulling off her apron and tossing it and her towel into the laundry bin. On her way back to the front, she hit the light switch, bathing the kitchen in gray almost-darkness. The sky out the west windows showed the sun had dipped behind the mountains, leaving just a dark red band to show that it had recently been daylight. Leah loved spring, how each day was a little bit longer than the one before. It was only March, so there would be lots of snow and cold days over the next few months, but summer wasn’t too far away.
She rejoined Hamilton in the front, pulling her hoodie from under the register. Even though it felt too hot when she pulled it on, she knew she’d be grateful for the extra layer once they stepped outside. When the sun went down, so did the temperature.
“Was he here?”
“Jude?” Grabbing her purse, she moved toward the door, only to pivot around when she realized she’d forgotten something important. “No, thank goodness. It was busy for a Wednesday, but everyone was delightfully non-stalker-y.” Pulling a bakery box off the shelf by the register, she was surprised by the weight. Maybe she’d gone overboard when she’d packed it earlier.
“Good.”
It was more of a grunt than an actual word, and Leah smiled.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re sort of prissy most of the time, so it’s fun that you can go all caveman, too.” She held out the box. “Here. This is for you. Thanks again for your help this morning. It’s because of you that I still have my hair. If I’d had to do all that on my own, I would’ve torn it out.”
He accepted the box automatically, while staring at her like he wasn’t sure if he should be shocked, offended or grateful.
“I put a little bit of everything in there,” she said, using her body to push open the door as she double-checked that her keys were in her purse. The door locked automatically, and she didn’t want to show up at three the next morning, unable to get inside.
“Thank you.” He seemed to have sorted through his reactions and settled on gratitude. “I like everything you make.”
She grinned at him, touched by the unexpected compliment. “Aw, thank you!”
Side by side, they crossed the parking lot, heading toward the walking path that led to her building. Staying on the main streets was a slightly faster route, but the trail was prettier and quieter, winding through a small park, and she didn’t have to breathe vehicle exhaust the entire way home.
“What are you going to do tomorrow morning?” he asked, holding the bakery box tucked against his chest, like it was precious.
“Do?” She looked at him, confused. “I’ll go in to work like usual.”
“Are you going to drive?”
She groaned, remembering Castillo’s recommendation. “Oh, right. I forgot for a minute.” It had been so pleasant, walking through the dusky evening next to Hamilton, that the reason he was accompanying her home had slipped her mind. “It’s so close. It seems silly to drive. After all, Jude could jump me when I get out of my car just as easily as he could ambush me on this path. I doubt he even knows where I live, or that I walk to work.”
Hamilton made a tsk sound that was identical to the noise that her grandma used to make, and Leah started to giggle.
“You shouldn’t walk alone, especially in the middle of the night.” He gave her a disapproving look, although she wasn’t sure if it was in response to her not wanting to drive or her laughter.
“I’ll bring my pepper spray,” she said. “And my rape whistle. And my flashlight alarm.”
His frown didn’t lighten.
“My grandma gave me the spray and whistle and screaming flashlight when I moved into my apartment.” Leah knew he probably didn’t care about the origins of her safety kit, but she hoped to distract him. After working with him a few times, she could almost smell the oncoming lecture. “It was before my roommate moved in, and she was worried about me living alone.”
“Your roommate?”
She held back a grin. He’d taken the conversational bait. If she kept him talking about other things, she might be able to avoid the lecture altogether. “Annabelle. She’s amazing. You can meet her if she’s home, although she’ll probably have to work late again. She’s having some work issues right now.”
“Work issues?”
“Her boss is a dick.”
“Ah.”
“If you know any art galleries needing a manager, let me know. It’d be good if she could get away from Dick before she kills him.”
“His name is Dick?”
“Yes. He’s both a lowercase and uppercase dick.”
“That’s appropriate.”
“Exactly.” She grinned at his profile, marveling once again at how smoothly their conversations flowed. The sun had set completely, but the park had plentiful sodium lights lining the trail, so she could see the outline of his strong features quite clearly, and she was pretty sure he was doing that almost-smiling thing again.
“My friend is an artist.”
“Which friend?” Her brain instantly went to female friend, and her stomach curdled slightly as she wondered if his friend was more his type than the two customers who’d hit on him that morning. She’d never seen anyone—male or female—visiting his loft, but that didn’t mean anything. After all, she was normally running around like a headless chicken who baked, and she didn’t spend much time watching who came in and out. Hamilton could be going to his friend’s place, too. Leah found herself bristling at the thought of this imaginary woman who was completely his type—whatever that was.
“Louis Dumont.”
She turned her head to stare at him. “Louis Dumont? I’m pretty clueless when it comes to art, but even I’ve heard of him. He did that series with the couples, right? The ones with all the bright colors?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know Louis Dumont?”
“We were in the same unit.”
“Army?”
“Yes.”
“That’s awesome. Annabelle’s going to flip when I tell her that I know Louis Dumont.”
“What?” It was his turn to look at her. Although it was hard to tell in the distorting illumination from the streetlights, she was pretty sure he was frowning in confusion. “How do you know him?”
“I vicariously know him now, since he’s your friend, and we’re friends, so it’s pretty much like Louis Dumont and I are friends.”
She expected him to question her logic. In fact, she looked forward to the argument. It was fun ruffling Hamilton’s feathers by using twisted reasoning. Instead, though, he just asked, “We’re friends?”
“Of course we’re friends. You don’t think I let just anyone touch my frosting, do you?”
“I don’t know.” His voice shifted, ever so sli
ghtly, and something about it made her shiver. “Do you?”
“Definitely not.” The conversation had taken a strange turn and was filled with undertones that Leah wasn’t sure if she was interpreting correctly or not. Normally, she could flirt with the best of them, but Hamilton was harder to read. Plus, a pretty big part of her wanted him to like her, so she was worried that she might be inventing subtext that wasn’t actually there. “You joined an exclusive club when you handled my frosting.”
“Good.” It wasn’t her imagination. His voice was definitely deeper, more...growly. She tucked her hands into her center hoodie pocket so she could clutch her fingers together in glee—and to keep her hands off of him. When he sounded all possessive and rumbly like that, it was hard to not grab him. Despite their tension-filled conversation, she was pretty sure that Hamilton wasn’t a fan of being randomly grabbed.
They rounded a curve in the path, and Leah held back a sound of disappointment. They were already at the turnoff for her apartment building. “I’m right here.”
“I’ll walk you to your door.”
She didn’t argue, even though her door was just twenty feet farther on the well-lit path. Grabbing her keys as she approached the entrance, she pushed the fob button that made the door swing open automatically. “Did you want to come in?”
The question was out before she thought about it. Her face warmed as she tried to figure out how to wiggle out of embarrassment when he inevitably turned her down, but then Hamilton tipped his chin down in acceptance of her offer. Suddenly, she didn’t regret her asking at all. In fact, she couldn’t stop grinning as she led the way toward the stairs.
“Hope you don’t mind,” she said as they started to climb. “We’re just on the third floor, and sometimes this and the walk we just did is the only exercise I get to do all day.”
“I don’t mind.” They reached the landing and swung around to climb the next flight of stairs. “I would think you’d get quite a bit of exercise at work.”
“Running back and forth between the kitchen and front, you mean?” When he gave a slight nod, she continued. “I do, but I’m also surrounded by cookies. I don’t think exercise counts if you’re eating in the middle of it.”