by Rye Hart
“You’ve been past it before?”
“I have. I’m not a sweets person myself. More savory like chips and pretzels. But my daughter? She’s got a sweet tooth.”
“Well, you should come in sometime. I’ve got this maple bacon cupcake that’s really good.”
“Maple bacon. Interesting combination. I’ll have to try that side door sometime. Maybe bring my daughter in as well.”
“It’s quirky but quaint. I like it.”
“I’m sure we will too,” I said with a grin.
I watched her cheeks flush as a nervous giggle fell from her lips.
“I hope I’m not making you nervous,” I said.
“It’s just new. It’s like a date, but not really a date? So I’m not sure what to do with myself.”
I’ve got a few things I’d do to you.
“Trust me, I know what you mean. In the truck, I kept batting away things I’d normally do on a first date.”
“Like what?” she asked.
I swallowed thickly as I stretched my leg out. I figured it was as good of a time as any to test the waters. I rested my foot against hers and felt her flinch, but she didn’t move away. A beautiful crimson tint rose up her neck, crawling across her cheeks as her back straightened.
Then, I laid my hand out on the table with my palm up, silently asking for her hand. To my surprise, she gave it to me, sending electricity jolting up my arm.
“How old is your daughter?” Heather asked.
I watched her relax back into her chair, and the movement pressed her leg closer to mine. Her body heat climbed, and her cheeks kept that healthy flush. I almost threaded our fingers together, just to see what she would do.
“She’s four,” I said. “She’s enrolled in a preschool here in town.”
“Is it just the two of you?” she asked.
“It is. Rebecca’s mother isn’t in the picture.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I fell in love with her, and she fell in love with my money, but I was so blinded by my passion for her that I didn't catch it until she filed for divorce, took me for the money she could get, and left her daughter behind in the process.”
I drew in a deep breath, trying to quell the nauseating anger bubbling up my throat. I’d never intended to divulge any of that information, but something about Heather made me feel so at ease.
“Thank you for telling me that,” Heather said. “I want to know this kind of stuff about you. It makes me more comfortable with this entire process.”
“What you’re doing for me—for my daughter—I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to thank you properly. Rebecca seems so lonely sometimes, and I know she wants a sibling badly.”
“Why’s she lonely?”
How the hell was I supposed to answer her question honestly without giving anything else away?
“My daughter’s a bit of an introvert like her father.”
“I get that. I was the same way in school. I just didn’t want to mess around with the idiots I sat next to in class.”
“That bad, huh?”
“My best friend is the only person I keep up with from high school. No social media. No phone calls. No reunions.”
“None of that stuff matters anyway. Everyone’s an ass in high school,” I said.
“You’re preaching to the choir on that one.”
I chuckled as a smile graced her cheeks. “She and I are very close. We talk about everything. Well, everything you can talk with a four-year-old about.”
“That’s a really good thing to have with your child. So many parents try to distance themselves from that kind of thing. Force their children into certain attitudes and moods without acknowledging that they’re small people and that their feelings have merit.”
“I was raised that way,” I said. “With that idea that I had to act and walk and feel a certain way about all things. No outbursts. No anger. Just calm and stoic all the time. No crying. No nothing like that. It’s bullshit.”
“It is. Especially for men, because it’s a complete stereotype that you all don’t have feelings.”
I slid the toe of my shoe up her bare ankle and watched her draw in a deep breath. I pulled my hand back and threaded our fingers together, watching as her arm flushed. Every little touch was so responsive on her skin. Every little movement I made drew from her a sound I wanted to magnify.
Hell yes I was breaking my own rules.
By breaking I mean running over them with a truck and hitting reverse.
There was something about Heather that let out a part of me I had locked away for years.
No other woman had this effect over me. It was undeniable, the moment we met.
She was smart, beautiful… exciting.
The kind of exciting I had denied myself for a very long time.
The kind I thought I’d never have again.
“So that’s why I want a sibling for her,” I said. “She wants one, and I’ve always wanted another child anyway. It would cure her loneliness and fill a void for her.
“Then you’re doing it for the right reasons,” Heather said.
We were interrupted by our food coming to our table, and she pulled back. She pulled everything back. Her foot. Her hand. Her crimson color. All of it faded into the background. And I missed it. I wanted it to come back. I wanted to feel her skin on mine again. I wanted to make her gasp. Moan. Shiver in her seat. I wanted to tease those delicate calves with my toes and drag her off to the restroom.
But I kept my cool, and we kept to small talk.
The more I got to know her, the more I knew she was the one.
This was the woman I wanted to have my child.
But I was seriously starting to question if having her child would be enough at this point.
CHAPTER 8
HEATHER
It has been a day since our dinner and I couldn't stop thinking about Andrew, his demeanor, and the comfort I felt around him.
Then there was the way electricity shot through my body whenever he looked at me. It left me breathless and confused all at the same time.
Our business agreement left no room for the physical attraction I had– yet it was undeniable.
I was so glad he opened up to me about his past. His story made my heart ache.
Knowing he and his daughter were left behind by some money-hungry ex made me hurt for them and made me want to help him more. That dinner only served to solidify the decision I was making.
But how was this supposed to work when I was so madly attracted to my “Provider”?
Thinking about it made my skin break out into goosebumps. Remembering the sincerity in his voice whenever he thanked me made me smile.
I’d have to call Nikki and tell her all about it.
Another thing that stood out vividly from the date was the fact we hadn’t negotiated one single thing about our contract over dinner. I wasn’t too worried about it because I knew we’d eventually get to that point in the process.
The bell above my door rang, and I came out from my kitchen. When I saw him, my heart stopped. I looked at the girl bouncing behind him, all ringlet curls of dark hair and emerald eyes just like his. Andrew’s daughter looked just like him.
“Welcome to Heather’s Bake Shop,” I said. “How can I help you?”
“Daddy said you have cin-na-non rolls,” Rebecca said.
I leaned over the counter, trying not to giggle at her pronunciation, and gazed down at the cutest little girl I’d ever seen. Her curls tumbled to her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled like her father’s. She had these rosy red apple cheeks and a broad smile that matched Andrew’s. She even had his strong chin and jawline.
“I have a very special cinnamon roll for you,” I said.
She gasped in the same way I did as a child visiting the bakery shop, and it filled my world with a joy so unspeakable, it made my chest almost burst. I walked into the back room and pulled a freshly-made cinnamon roll off the tray. I slathered i
t with icing, grabbed the array of sprinkles I had, and brought it all out to the front, and I watched as Andrew hoisted his daughter up so she could sit on the counter.
Usually, I didn’t let kids sit up there, but I didn’t mind making an exception.
“So, which sprinkles do you want on top?” I asked.
“I get sprinkles?” Rebecca asked as she clapped.
“Oh, yes. Special girls get special sprinkles. So, which would you like?”
She pointed to the green container, and I shook a generous portion on top of the hot icing. I grabbed her a fork and she began to eat it right there on the counter since I didn’t have any seating on the inside of my place. Andrew’s eyes took in the room. Nerves about his first impression of the place made my hands shake a little.
“Daddy gets a special treat too?” Rebecca asked.
Andrew’s eyes whipped down to mine, and I felt my cheeks flush. The way he looked at me, I knew exactly what was on his mind. I didn’t mind it one bit.
“He does,” I said with a grin.
I bent down to the display case and pulled out a fresh piece of red velvet cake.
“Do I get sprinkles?” Andrew asked.
“Sure.”
“The pink, please.”
“You want pink sprinkles?” Rebecca asked.
“Boys can have pink sprinkles. Just like you can have green ones,” he said.
The sentiment melted my heart. He really was a good father. He would be a great father to the child I gave him.
“How much do I owe you?” he asked as I shook out the sprinkles.
“Nothing. It’s on me,” I said. “Special treat remember?”
“No, Heather. Let me pay you. How much?”
“Andrew, it’s fine. First-time customers and all.”
“I’m not letting you absorb this cost.”
“Well, it’s not your decision,” I said.
I watched him pull out a twenty-dollar bill and stick it into my tip jar.
“There,” he said. “A tip for the gracious woman.”
I rolled my eyes as a smile crossed my face.
He smiled back and I was lost for a moment, until the most gut-sickening sound alive erupted, an ear-piercing squeak followed by a massive clunk.
“Oh no.”
“What was that?” Andrew asked.
“Give me a second,” I said.
I walked back into the kitchen and headed straight for the oven. I’d heard that sound once before with the piece of shit, and it had cost me almost two-thousand dollars to fix it. I turned on the oven light and crouched down to look in, watching as the red light slowly faded away.
“No, no, no,” I said to myself.
“Heather? Is everything okay?” Andrew asked.
“I’m fine. I’m good. You guys enjoy your—ouch!”
I shook my burned hand out as the oven door came toppling open. Great. Not only was the oven broken, but the mechanism to keep the damn thing closed was broken as well.
“Here,” Andrew said as he grabbed a wet rag. “Let me see that.”
I watched as he took my hand delicately; wrapping the reddened, hot skin in a cool washcloth. I looked up into his face and watched him concentrate while treating me as if I were a delicate valuable. His eyes lifted to mine as he tucked the washcloth underneath itself, reassuring me it would stay once he let go.
But I didn’t want him to let go.
“The, uh, the oven’s broken,” I said. “That was the sound you heard.”
“Do you know what’s wrong?” he asked.
I lost myself for a second in his beautiful blue stare.
“The part that helps keep the oven closed has gone bad, and I think the coils that heat up the oven from below have given out. Or maybe it’s an internal electrical issue. Either way, I’ll have to shut down today so I can get it fixed.”
“I can take a look at it,” Andrew said.
“You fix ovens?”
“I fix a lot of things around my place.”
“This isn’t a household oven.”
“But I’m sure it’s got at least some of the same parts,” he said. “Let me take a look at it. If I can fix it, I will. Think of it as payment for the sweets.”
“You already left me a tip.”
“For your hard work. I haven’t paid you for the cake and the cinnamon roll. I can pay you this way,” he said.
“Anyone here?” I heard Charlie’s voice from the storefront.
I groaned and rolled my eyes as the bell above my door rang out.
What the hell was Charlie doing back?
“Just a second, Charlie,” I said.
“A friend of yours?” Andrew asked.
“If you want to call him that. If you want to take a look at the oven, I won’t stop you at all. It’s very kind of you to offer, and I really do appreciate it,” I said.
“Heather? You back there? There’s someone on your counter. You don’t let kids sit on your counter, right?”
“She’s fine,” I said as I walked back to the register. “What can I get you?”
But his eyes narrowed slightly as Andrew’s body heat radiated against my back.
“You didn’t tell me she couldn't be up there,” Andrew said.
“She’s fine. It’s not a big deal. The glass is really thick. She’s safe,” I said.
“Come here. I’ll help you down,” Charlie said.
“No need. I’ve got my daughter,” Andrew said, stepping from behind me.
The command in his voice shot a shiver down my spine.
“Is there something you need?” I asked.
“I smell those cinnamon rolls of yours.”
“Would you like one?” I asked.
“Do you always let customers behind the counter? You never let me back there.”
“He’s fixing my oven,” I said. “It gave out again.”
“Again? Didn’t it give out on you a few months ago? You know I can replace it for you. It’s not a problem.”
“That won’t be necessary Charlie,” I said firmly.
“That’s not what it looks like,” Charlie said, sizing Andrew up. I heard the small beginnings of a growl emanate from Andrew’s chest, and it startled me.
I looked back at him before my eyes panned up the expanse of his body and saw a predatory stare lingering in his eyes.
His daughter seemed oblivious to what was going on. She was devouring her cinnamon roll and scooping the extra icing up with her fork. I was glad. I didn’t want her remembering this blatant display of idiotic manhood.
Neither of them had a claim over me.
So both of them needed to cool their damn jets.
“Charlie, do you want a cinnamon roll or not?” I asked.
“Who is this guy?” Charlie asked, his eyes never leaving Andrew.
“He’s a friend,” I said.
“Maybe you should leave the lady alone,” Andrew said.
“No really. Who is this guy?” Charlie asked.
I sighed and closed my eyes, wishing I would evaporate into thin air.
“Not that it’s really any of your concern, but this is Andrew. Like I said, he’s a friend of mine. And this is his daughter, Rebecca.”
Charlie seemed wholly unimpressed. “To answer your question, I’d love a cinnamon roll. Why don’t I come back there and get it myself?” Charlie asked.
But before I could answer him, Andrew stepped off to the side and blocked the swinging door that stood between the front of the bakery and me.
“That isn’t necessary,” Andrew said. “I’ll get it for you.”
Charlie glared at him as Andrew dipped into the case and pulled out a cinnamon roll. He reached for a plate and set it down, then handed it over the counter. Charlie’s eyes seethed with anger, a look I’d never seen on him before. He took the plate harshly from Andrew’s hands. Then, he looked at me and forced his eyes to soften.
“How much do I owe you?” Charlie asked.
“Th
ree seventy-five,” I said.
He looked down at the tip jar and saw the twenty-dollar bill in there. I furrowed my brow as he pulled out his wallet, watching as he pulled out three of them. Three twenty-dollar bills. He shoved them into the tip jar before he picked up his cinnamon roll and then reached behind the counter and bent over. He grabbed a fork from underneath the register, his hand intentionally grazing my thigh.
I took a step back from him as my eyes widened.
“You might want to use a glove next time,” he said to Andrew.
I closed my eyes and silently willed Charlie to go away.
“Heather.”
“Yes, Andrew?” I said, opening my eyes.
“What are you doing tomorrow evening?”
I opened my eyes and looked over at him as Charlie tensed.
“Um, nothing after I close up the shop. Why?” I asked.
“I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner at my place. With Rebecca and me. I’m making her favorite.”
“Mac and cheese!” Rebecca exclaimed.
“I’m sure she’ll have a late night at the bakery. Besides, I was planning on coming by with dinner for us anyway,” Charlie said.
“What?” I asked.
“It was going to be a surprise, but I’d hate for you to dine on cheese noodles when I’m bringing your favorite.”
“You mean take out from that diner up the road?” I asked.
I rolled my eyes and brought my attention back to Andrew. Dinner at his house felt like a ruse, like he was somehow trying to just get Charlie to back off. Yet, the idea of having a home-cooked meal with Andrew and spending time with him and his daughter sounded great. I was hoping once Charlie left he wouldn’t rescind the offer.
“I’d like that,” I said to Andrew.
“As would I,” Andrew replied.
“I’m looking forward to your macaroni and cheese.”
“It’s the best in town.”
I grinned up at Andrew and completely forgot Charlie was there. At least, I did until the bell above the door dinged. I whipped my gaze over and watched Charlie march down the sidewalk, throwing his cinnamon roll in the nearest garbage can. I was glad he’d backed down and left.
“Are you okay?” Andrew asked.
I nodded as I wiped my hands off on my apron.