by Nia Arthurs
Was it that late already?
He scrambled to his feet, fully awake. His eyes skittered to the front door that was still, blessedly, shut.
“Idiot,” he mumbled. Normally, he was out of Sky’s bakery by four in the morning. Something must have gone wrong with his watch because it was now after eleven.
Joon slipped his shoes on and tore the blanket he’d stolen from Tyler’s place off the chairs. After rearranging the table, he checked to make sure that he had left no evidence of his stay.
It had been three days since he’d been sneaking into La Case De Sweet Treats. Yelp review 1.5 for the crappy beds. He used the key she’d conveniently left for him, moving in every night after Sky left and running out before she came back in the morning.
Sky still had no idea.
And he’d like to keep it that way.
Stifling a yawn with his hand, Joon chanced another look at his phone screen and froze. The date paraded before his eyes.
Sunday.
He almost laughed.
It was the weekend. He didn’t have to rush. Sky wouldn’t be here until tomorrow. Relieved, he stretched the kinks out of his back and took his time strolling to the broom closet. Nestled behind the boxes of old paper plates and buckets was his duffel bag.
Oh how the mighty have fallen.
A few months ago, Joon Gi had the cash to stay in the most expensive hotels in Belize. Now, he was sneaking around in a tiny bakery with his duffel bag in one hand and a half-used bar of soap he’d found in the bathroom with the other.
He had no other choice.
After Halmoni discovered him at Tyler’s place, she set her foot down and threatened to evict her grandson if she found Joon hanging around again. Tyler was willing to take him back on the down low, but Joon didn’t want to put his friend in that position.
Staying with Sun Gi wasn’t an option either.
Sweet Treats was his last and only resort.
At least the building had a working shower. He had to be grateful for the small things or he’d go crazy.
Lately, his fire had been sputtering out. Doubts crept into his mind, whispering, taunting him, urging him to give up. Depression hunkered outside the door of his heart, eager to drag him down. Joon was fighting those demons with everything he had.
He’d found the rock bottom below rock bottom, but he wasn’t ready to throw in the towel yet.
With a deep breath, Joon Gi flicked through the clothes in his duffel and selected a new pair of boxers, jeans and a T-shirt. He locked the door behind him and stripped down, setting the shower to warm.
The water was cool against his back and he stood under the spout for a long minute, letting the drops batter his skin. Since sleeping on the chairs in Sweet Treats, Joon had found a new appreciation for proper bedding.
The floor would probably be gentler.
He ran thick fingers through his hair and the limp strands flopped right back into his eyes. A hand on the wall, he bent his head and thought of where he would go from here.
There was no way he could live in Sweet Treats long term. Even if Sky never caught on to him, it would sting his pride to make this a habit. He needed money and, because of his agreement, he couldn’t expect any from Sky until next month.
Damn.
He shouldn’t have agreed to work here for free.
But how else would you have earned her trust?
Good point.
He sighed and turned the water off. Grabbing the towel hanging off the hook outside the stall, he wrapped it around his torso and staggered out of the bath.
The mirror was foggy.
Joon Gi swiped his heel over it and stared at his reflection in the clear glass. His pale skin clashed against his black hair and dark brown eyes. He looked like a regular guy. Reputation intact. Business thriving. Love life on fire.
Ha.
Appearances were deceiving.
He got dressed with a heavy heart and brushed his teeth. After cleaning up after himself, Joon returned to the main room and packed his duffel. He stuffed the used clothes into a plastic bag and noted the dirty to clean clothes ratio was extremely imbalanced.
He’d have to make a trip to Tyler’s place to borrow the washing machine.
His phone rang.
Joon reached to answer it when a shadow appeared over his shoulder. He spun and found Sky entering the café.
Their eyes met.
Her eyebrows crinkled in confusion.
His shoulders stiffened with guilt.
The phone went silent.
Sky gaped. “Joon Gi? What are you doing here?”
The phone chirped again.
Joon looked down at the screen.
Tyler’s name appeared.
“Uh,” he swiped his thumb over the device as his thoughts raced, “you’re here.”
“Yeah.” She dragged the word out. “But why are you here?” Her eyes darted to the towel slung over his shoulder and his wet hair that was dripping onto the sleeves of his shirt. “Did you just take a shower?”
The phone went silent again.
A terse hush swept through the room, heightening the tension.
He couldn’t lie his way out of this.
Sky’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. She stepped closer and it felt like the walls thundered. “Joon Gi, are you secretly living in the bakery?”
He yanked the towel off his neck. “I didn’t plan on staying long. It was just until I figured something else out.”
Sky’s shocked expression melted away. From this distance, he couldn’t read her eyes well, but from that intense stare he figured things were about to get serious in…
Three…
Two…
“Are you crazy? This is illegal! You can’t just break into someone’s store and sleep on their furniture without their permission!”
“I know. I’m sorry. I got kicked out of my friend’s place a few days ago and I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
Sky huffed and rubbed her temple. “What happened to your friend?”
“His grandmother caught me at his place and made a huge fuss—”
She rammed her fists into her hips.
Joon Gi avoided her fuming gaze. “Point is, Tyler’s place is no longer an option for me.”
“How long have you been staying here?”
“Since Wednesday.”
He hadn’t thought it possible but her eyes popped even further out of her face. There was no way he could miss the crackle of flames in her gaze now.
I’m so dead.
Joon’s mind scrambled for a solution. How could he get himself out of this? If Sky went to the police, it was game over. They’d lock him up. Forget about revenge or slinking back to Korea with his tail tucked between his legs.
Should he threaten her?
Cajole her?
At one point in time, he would have flirted with her, but since getting to know Sky, he didn’t want to play with her like that. Not for a situation like this when he was clearly in the wrong.
The silence stretched.
Peaked.
He squirmed, waiting for the slim woman to decide his fate.
When her brown eyes found his face again, Joon was surprised to find that they were softening even though the glint in their depths remained firm. He wiped his hands on the back of his pants, casting his gaze to the floor.
What was going on here?
Why wasn’t she saying something?
Sky spun on her heels. It was then that Joon noticed she was dressed up. Her hair was scooped back into a bun, allowing his gaze to peruse the planes of her face and the length of her delicate neck. Her cottony blouse and skirt flared as she turned.
When Joon didn’t move, she flung a look over her shoulder. “Follow me.”
He strode forward, his footsteps thudding with the click of her heels like a buss drum harmonizing with a metronome.
Thud. Thud.
Click.
Thud. Thud.
Click.
Sky stopped and looked at him again. “Bring your things.”
He wrapped his fingers around the straps of his duffel and hustled behind her. She stormed through the kitchen, headed for the side door and stepped through it. The door banged shut in his face.
He stopped short.
Understanding dawned.
She must have slipped in from the side. That’s why I didn’t hear her.
Joon pushed his hand out and thrust the door open.
He had no idea where they were going but steeled himself for the worst. Whether it was the police station or an abandoned alley, he’d just shut his mouth and take it.
Fingers twining in her skirt to prevent the wind from lifting the folds of cloth and exposing her prim brown legs, Sky marched down the sidewalk.
He followed without a word.
They kept going for another two minutes before stopping in front of a narrow house crammed between two buildings. The lawn was protected by a stretch of wire fencing that seemed laughably over-done for the patch of grass in front of the porch.
Sunlight danced over the red zinc roof and the inviting plants curling out of earthen pots that hung from the verandah.
Sky’s heels clicked together.
Joon stopped a couple feet away, observing, quiet.
She jutted a hand out. “This is my place.”
Did she want him to wait in there while she called the cops or something?
Nostrils flaring, she grunted, “You can stay here.”
He coughed. “What?”
“You need a place to stay, right?” She flung her arms toward the house as if trying to tear them off by force. “I’ve got a room. There’s a small office with a cot. It’s not much but it will do for now until you find somewhere else.”
Realization dawned.
Joon Gi shook his head. “No, I don’t want to put you out—”
Sky lurched over, grabbed his duffel bag and strode past the gate.
Joon watched the woman stalking over the grass and strained to wrap his brain around her kindness. When she’d caught him in the café, Sky looked seconds away from busting his chops with the nearest weapon and flinging him behind bars.
So what was this?
Uncomfortable, Joon Gi followed her into the house. He resisted the urge to take his shoes off at the door since it was a habit.
Sky didn’t seem bothered by his hesitation. She plunked his duffel in the middle of her living room and faced him, arms folded over her chest.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I don’t have a choice,” she said through gritted teeth. “If I don’t do this, I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”
Joon Gi stared at her, unsure of what she meant.
“Sleeping in the shop isn’t a good look for Sweet Treats. This is better for business.”
“For business?”
She nodded sharply.
“It won’t be for long,” he promised.
“Whatever.” Sky gave him a long, lingering glare and strutted outside, slapping the door closed behind her.
He stood in the wake of her exit, his mind buzzing with thoughts that were soaring too fast for him to get a lock on.
Sky was a soft-touch. He’d known that from the moment he first saw her, but this? It didn’t make any sense.
He shouldn’t stay.
Instead of turning for the door, Joon Gi grabbed his duffel and perused the cream-colored walls. “Where did she say that office was?”
16
SKY WAS A FUMING, trembling mess. Her shoes pinched her feet and scraped the back of her heel. The wind was doing its best to turn her into Marilyn Munroe. She scrambled to keep her skirt pinned to her knees where it belonged.
Sweet Treats appeared in the distance.
She hastened her footsteps and turned the corner to access the side door. Puncturing the lock with her key, she twisted the door ajar and stormed inside like a warrior out for vengeance.
Except, there was no one there.
As it should be.
Her eyes gravitated to the spot where Joon Gi had stood only a few minutes ago. Silky black hair glistening from the shower. Brown eyes that had always—always—pierced her soul, shimmering with guilt. Broad shoulders. Lean waist. Long legs.
He’d looked so at home, so comfortable and familiar, that—for a second—Sky had wondered if she’d accidentally stepped into the wrong building.
Maybe she’d gotten her keys mixed up with Joon’s and she was really infringing on him.
Idiot.
Dipping her chin, Sky looked down at the water drops that still lingered on the ground. Her gaze moved to the tables and chairs nestled in the corner and back to the bathrooms.
How had Joon Gi lived in the bakery for so long? She didn’t have a bed or even a bench that he could stretch out on.
Did he sleep on the floor?
Her heart clenched.
Again.
The emotions rushing through her made no sense. Sympathy and anger. Pity and annoyance. Her heart and her head were at war. She was the victim of her own sensibilities. Had fallen prey to that dangerous desire to help, one that demanded she put herself out even to her own detriment.
Her mom used to call that excessive kindness a superpower.
Sky called it a curse.
The only people who thought of her cloyingly sweet nature as anything else were benefitting from her lack of spine.
Her mom knew it.
She knew it.
The entire nation of Belize probably knew it.
Her phone buzzed.
Sky debated ignoring it, but checked out the message just in case it was Phillip or Jo.
It was neither.
HANNA: Hey, let me know your decision as soon as possible.
Sky huffed and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb. She was exhausted. There really should be a rulebook on dealing with rejection. Then again, there probably was and she wouldn’t be able to live by those rules—not if it hurt someone else.
And Hanna—for all her poise, money and elegance—would be hurt if Sky didn’t give her what she wanted.
Sweet Treats.
Hanna’s proposal at the restaurant was just a thinly veiled grab at her bakery. Sky was softhearted not stupid. It had probably been Hanna’s intention all along—to approach her as a friend and then sink her claws into the café.
C.E.O. of a franchise? Hanna could sell dreams. Sky would give her that.
Too bad, she wasn’t that ambitious. Sweet Treats was like a precious flower planted by her mother. Now that Mom was gone, it was Sky’s responsibility to water and nurture that plant so it bloomed.
Yanking it out by the roots just to make a few extra bucks would dishonor her mother’s memory. Would spit in the face of all she’d meant to Sky.
Handing Sweet Treats over to Hanna, as much as Sky liked and respected her, wasn’t an option.
But she’d never be able to say no in person.
And then Hanna will be just one more person who steamrolled me.
The first step in conquering any weakness was being aware of one’s limitations. Saying the word ‘no’ gave her anxiety. Which meant she didn’t have the courage to turn Hanna down, especially if she kept pestering.
Sky pulled her phone out again and stared resignedly at the message.
Do something!
The bakery meant too much to her. She couldn’t allow herself to be pressured into selling, which was something she knew Hanna was capable of if they kept meeting face-to-face.
It was time to put an end to this in the most comfortable way possible.
Through text.
SKY: Sorry, Hanna. I won’t sell.
After sending the message, Sky wandered to the kitchen where she nabbed the spices she’d originally came for. Her heart thundered in her chest as she imagined Hanna receiving the message.
Her beautiful, lily-white skin was probably reddening.
Her mouth would
twist in annoyance.
Would she think Sky was rude? Or unbending? Or stubborn?
Are those bad things? It’s time you stood up for something.
Another ping.
Hannah had responded.
HANNA: Can we talk in person?
No, they could not.
That in-person conversation was exactly what Sky was trying to avoid. She could never look someone in the eye and flatly reject them. Watch the hope and joy seep out of their expression. Live with the guilt of ruining their day.
Absolutely not.
SKY: I don’t think that’s possible. Sorry.
She waited a beat and then sent another message.
SKY: But I appreciated brunch and getting to know you. Enjoy the rest of your day.
Satisfied that she’d ended the refusal on as best a note as she could muster, Sky returned to her house in thoughtful silence.
The moment she opened the door, she heard the mixer whirring. Concerned, she darted into the kitchen and found Joon Gi standing behind the counter. The muscles in his arm rippled as he clung to the mixer for dear life. Flour sputtered from the bowl and coated his face and chin.
Sky’s annoyance with him quickly gave way to amusement.
“What are you doing?” she yelled.
Joon Gi clicked the mixer off and set it calmly on the counter. His movements were lithe and fluid, a complete contrast to the mess on his shirt. “I saw the waffle recipe on the counter and the ingredients you’d capped off. Figured this was lunch.”
“It was breakfast.” She swung her purse over her head.
“Was?” His cheeks pinched. “You ate already?”
“Yeah.” Sky trotted toward him. “I was going to make something else for dinner.”
“Oh.” He scratched his temple. Pink lips parted. Snapped closed a moment later.
Sky noticed that his hair had dried in clumps that fanned out over his broad forehead. Joon Gi noticed her perusal. His slender fingers dug through the strands, separating them in one smooth motion so they fell in a more uniform style.
She cleared her throat and eyed the massive spread of broken eggshells and sugar that was skittered over the counter top. “You don’t cook often, do you?”
“Ramen is the extent of my culinary abilities.” He spread his hands wide and shrugged. “But I felt bad for sneaking into the store, so I wanted to do something to make up for it. Even if it wasn’t much.”