Chapter Thirteen
She couldn’t stop feeding him.
It was better than kissing him, Leah supposed, pulling a sheet pan of dinner rolls out of the oven. It was much better than shoving him up against the freezer and ripping off his pants. Both ideas were tempting. All morning, every time she thought of the night before, and the morning before, and the night before that, she’d been forcing herself to tamp down her lusty thoughts, instead offering him another chocolate almond croissant or a peanut-butter brownie or a pumpkin muffin. It didn’t help her willpower when he accepted every treat with the most tempting, tiniest crook of a smile. Instead of that laser-like hungry look being directed at the pastries, he’d aimed it at her, sending her rushing back into the kitchen so she didn’t start making out with him in front of the customers.
Her distraction slowed her down, and she wasn’t finished baking until mid-morning. She was grateful that Hamilton had offered to help. If he hadn’t subbed in for Q, she would’ve been rushing back and forth between helping customers and trying to keep everything from burning and doing a piss-poor job of both while basically losing her mind.
Tossing her flour-covered apron into the to-be-washed bin, she grabbed a clean one and headed to the front. As she tied the strings in the small of her back, she hesitated. There wasn’t much room behind the counter up front, and she and Hamilton would be squeezed together, bumping into each other as they filled orders...
She gave herself a mental smack. They were adults. They could be in close proximity without giving in to their basest instincts. It was called self-control, and she needed to find some immediately. Taking a bracing breath, she pushed through the swinging doors.
It was a madhouse. The line stretched to the door and along the wall, and every table was filled. Looking up from the cappuccino he was making, Hamilton gave her a slight nod before refocusing on the task. Although he looked like a pillar of calmness, she read the hidden panic in his expression, and she hurried to help the next person in line.
The next few hours passed in a blur of customers and coffee and pastries and bread. Despite the mass of people needing to be helped, she was intensely aware of Hamilton. Her skin prickled each time he brushed against her, but she somehow managed to keep her focus on the customers’ orders until the line was gone and just a few people lingered at the tables.
“That was wild.” Leaning against the counter, Leah blew out a long breath and glanced at the clock. It was just past one. Even if there was another small rush in the afternoon, the worst was over. Despite that, she was reluctant to let Hamilton go. She enjoyed having him there, the two of them working in smooth cooperation as if they’d been doing this for years, and she didn’t want it to end. Plus, she didn’t know where they stood. Had the past few nights happened because she’d been convenient? Would he disappear into his loft upstairs, only stopping in to see her if the rent was late? She knew it was doubtful—at the very least, he’d be in to replenish his supply of cupcakes—but worry still niggled at her. This inner Hamilton was fun and helpful and sinfully sexy. She wanted to keep him.
“Yeah.” He mirrored her stance, propping his hips against the coffee counter and bracing his palms behind him. It made his arm and shoulder muscles bulge beautifully. “I’m glad you finished baking when you did.”
Yanking her eyes off the hard contours of his deltoids, she met his gaze. “Sorry it took me so long this morning. I was a little...scattered.” Immediately, she realized that she’d just admitted that he’d stolen her brain when he’d gone down on her, and she glanced around, looking everywhere except at him. “Um...did you need to go? I’ll probably be fine for the rest of the afternoon.”
He jerked his head back slightly, as if she’d slapped him. “You want me to leave?”
“No.” The answer was out before she thought about it. “I’m offering you an escape route. You’ve worked for ten hours now. Normally, on a busy Saturday, Q only works six. You’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty, and I don’t think there are enough cupcakes in the world to pay you.”
“I’m fine.” He leaned back against the counter again, the tension of a few seconds ago gone. “It doesn’t feel like work.” His gaze slanted over to her. “Mostly because you keep feeding me.”
Her face heated for some reason. “At least take a break. Have some coffee, pour in your usual pound of sugar and gallon of milk, and hang out in the back for a few minutes. There are some sandwiches in the cooler if you want some real food.”
Pushing away from the counter, he dipped his chin in a short nod as he turned to pour some coffee in a mug. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You should take a break, too.” He handed her the coffee he’d just poured, and she smiled her thanks. “Come sit in the back with me. The bell will go off if there are new customers.”
“I will.” Even as she agreed, she knew it was a stupid idea. If they were alone with no baking to distract them, it was going to be very difficult not to hurl herself at him. Her eyes fastened on his full mouth. When they weren’t pulled into a hard, flat line, his lips were infinitely gorgeous. They wouldn’t be out of place in a glossy cologne ad. He could be a lip model. The idea made her snort, and Hamilton eyed her curiously. Not wanting to go into the whole convoluted thought process, she just waved her hand, dismissing her laugh. “I’ll meet you back there. I want to wipe off the tables quickly.” That would also give her a few minutes to build up her Hamilton model-mouth defenses, so that she didn’t attack him with her lips the moment they were in the kitchen.
“I’ll help,” he said, moving to put his coffee down on the counter.
“Nope.” Leah moved to block him, giving him her sternest glare. “You’re not doing another second of work until you take a break. Go play on your phone or something.”
He grumbled but obeyed, pushing through the swinging door into the kitchen. As soon as he was gone, Leah let out a long, silent breath. Once the bakery had quieted down, she’d become intensely aware of him. She’d never had such a strong reaction to anyone, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it. While she didn’t want to be too clingy or overbearing, everything inside her was begging her to tackle him and have her way with him. The past few nights had been incredible, and she wanted him in bed with her again—soon. The problem was that their relationship was so odd. She didn’t know what—if anything—they were to each other. Although she was getting better at reading Hamilton, he was still an enigma most of the time.
With a quiet groan, she took a sip of her coffee and then put it on the counter. They needed to have a conversation, but she was dreading bringing it up. It would be awkward—enormously, painfully awkward. Grabbing a towel and the spray bottle of disinfectant, she headed for the mostly empty tables. The only customer who hadn’t left was a woman in her twenties, a mostly full mug of coffee in front of her. She was vaguely pretty, with tidy dark-blond hair and light blue eyes, and she was staring at Leah.
Giving the customer a smile while trying to hide how the woman’s expressionless glare was creeping her out, Leah started wiping off the tables. “Is your coffee okay?” She’d barely touched what was in her mug. Leah tried to remember when the woman had come through the line and how long she’d been nursing her coffee, but the previous hours were a blur. “I can freshen it up for you if it’s cold.”
“No, thank you.” The blonde’s voice was cold, and Leah wiped faster, trying to finish so she could sneak into the kitchen. An uncomfortably awkward conversation about sex with Hamilton was preferable to the icy waves of anger and dislike the customer was projecting.
“Okay.” Leah hurried to the next table. “If you change your mind, or if there’s something else you need, just let me know.”
The woman didn’t respond. Instead, she glared.
Leah cleaned faster than she thought was possible, and relief coursed through her when all the tables except for the one with the angry woman had been wiped down. Giving her a final smile that she hoped didn’t look as tight as it felt, Leah rushed to put the cleaner and towel away. Snatching up her coffee, she speed-walked toward the kitchen door.
“What I need,” the woman said, making Leah halt right in front of the swinging doors, so close to freedom from the ice queen, “is for you to stop tormenting my brother.”
Turning toward the woman, Leah blinked. Her first thought was that this was Hamilton’s sister, but that didn’t make any sense. He would’ve reacted to seeing her earlier, plus Leah wasn’t tormenting him—unless the woman meant that in a sexual sense. Her face heated, and she forced herself to stay on track. She was pretty sure this conversation was going to be strange enough without Leah wandering into Hamilton-sex-land.
“What?” she asked, and immediately hid a wince. It was a pretty weak response, and the other woman sneered.
“Stop jerking my brother around.” She took a sip of the coffee and then made a face. Leah guessed that the bitter drink was ice-cold.
It was time to get to the bottom of things. The woman probably had her confused with someone else. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not jerking anyone around.” Except for possibly Hamilton, and she had no interest in jerking him around. Jerking him off, sure, but that wasn’t something she was going to discuss with this hostile stranger. “Who are you looking for? I think this might be a case of mistaken identity.”
“You’re Leah, the owner of this bakery.” The woman’s voice didn’t hold any uncertainty.
“Yes.” She was almost hesitant to admit that. “Who is your brother?”
The woman’s lip curled in a disdainful sneer. “You don’t know? How many guys are you currently tormenting?”
Again with the tormenting. “None that I know of,” Leah said, ignoring Hamilton’s existence and trying to keep her tone soothing and civil. She wondered if the woman had a mental illness. If so, what would be the best thing to do right now? “What’s your name?”
“Jade Whittier.”
The last name was familiar, but it took a moment for the puzzle pieces to click together in Leah’s brain. “Jude is your brother?”
Jade gave her a flat look. “Yes. So you admit that you’re messing with his head?”
“What? No!” Leah frowned at the other woman. The conversation was confusing, and she half expected Jade to start laughing and admit that it was just a prank—not a very funny one, but that explanation would make more sense than whatever was happening at the moment. “I’m not messing with his head. We don’t even know each other well enough to mess with each other. He’s a customer.” And possibly a stalker, but she didn’t say that out loud, since she was fairly sure Jade wouldn’t take that news well.
“Are you seriously trying to tell me that Jude—the guy you’ve been dating for six months—is just a customer?” Jade leaned forward, looking as if she was about to come flying out of her chair, and Leah resisted the urge to take a step back. Instead, she moved closer to the woman as she tried to work out what was happening.
“I never dated Jude.” She kept her voice calm and even. It wasn’t Jade’s fault that her brother was doing some pants-on-fire lying. “The only times I ever saw him were when he came into the bakery. I only know his last name from running his credit card when he bought his coffee and croissant every day.”
Making a scoffing sound, Jade sat back, crossing her arms. “Right. You never dated, and that’s why you sent your cop boyfriend to threaten Jude. Do you do that to all your customers?”
Cop boyfriend? Instead of clarifying anything, the conversation was just making Leah more and more confused. “What cop boyfriend? Hamilton’s not a cop.” He wasn’t really her boyfriend, either, but he was the closest thing to it she had at the moment.
“His name was Cass-something.” Jade dug in her purse and yanked out what looked like a business card, thrusting it out triumphantly. Although Leah doubted that it was a good idea to get close to a woman who didn’t seem completely stable, she was too curious not to walk over and accept the card. When she read the name on it, she relaxed slightly. That explained one thing, at least.
“Officer Castillo isn’t my boyfriend,” Leah said, handing the card back. “He’s the cop who took the report when...” She trailed off, trying to think of a tactful way to explain. There really wasn’t one, so she decided just to be blunt. “After Jude came into the kitchen a few days ago and wouldn’t leave, I reported the situation to the police, just in case.”
“What are you talking about? You called the police after you two had an argument?” Jade’s voice rose a few notches. “Who does that? Why are you trying to ruin his life? You were the one who cheated on him!”
“Wait, what?” Leah didn’t know what point to correct first. It was all so weird and wrong. “We aren’t dating. He’s a customer—just a customer. He walked in when we were closed and refused to leave. Since he seemed very angry about the whole situation, I was concerned—am concerned—that he’ll do something else to me or the bakery, so I made a police report. I think Jude hasn’t been truthful with you. There’s never, ever been any kind of relationship between us except for me selling him some coffee and baked goods. That’s it.”
“What’s going on?” Hamilton was suddenly standing next to her. Leah assumed he’d heard Jade’s yelling.
Ignoring him, Jade shoved her chair back and stood. The abrupt movement jolted Leah, and she moved a tiny bit closer to Hamilton. He put a warm hand on her lower back, and it steadied her.
“I’m supposed to believe you—” Jade looked Leah up and down “—instead of my brother? Leave him alone, and tell your cop boyfriend to back off. Restraining orders can go both ways, you know.” With a final glare, she stormed out, opening the door with a two-handed shove.
The shop was quiet as she and Hamilton watched Jade stomp toward a small SUV and leave the lot, the vehicle’s jerky movements showing the driver’s anger.
“Cop boyfriend?” Hamilton broke the silence.
With a groan, Leah dropped her head back and squeezed her eyes closed. “What a mess. Jude told his sister that we’ve been dating until I supposedly cheated on him and now I’m having my cop boyfriend harass Jude because I’m apparently a psycho bitch who can’t let him go? Or something?”
Hamilton didn’t say anything for a long moment. “What?”
Unable to resist the temptation, Leah leaned against him, and his arm automatically moved from her back to circle her shoulders, pulling her more snugly against his chest. “My thoughts exactly. I don’t know if Jude’s lying or if he invented this whole fantasy world where he actually thinks that I’m his girlfriend, but neither option is a good thing.” Reluctantly straightening, she walked behind the counter and grabbed her phone out of her bag.
“Who are you calling?”
“My cop boyfriend.”
For a second, he looked completely stricken before his expression reverted to his usual impassiveness, and Leah waved the hand not holding her phone.
“He’s not really my boyfriend. I’m just quoting sister-bitch.”
Castillo answered his phone, and Leah turned her attention to the call, quickly filling him in on what had just happened.
“Has he made contact with you directly?” Castillo asked.
“No. I haven’t seen him. Hamilton’s been walking me to and from the bakery, so that might have discouraged him.” She glanced at Hamilton’s hard features, wondering what he was thinking. As much as she’d enjoyed having his company over the past few days—and nights—he had to be sick of going to bed earlier than most eighty-year-olds and waking up hours before dawn.
“That’s good.” Castillo’s voice brought her out of her thoughts, and she refocused on their conversation. “I’ll have a word with the sister, let her know the situation. Keep your guard up.”
“I will. Thank you.”
After they ended the call, she dropped her phone back in her bag and looked up at Hamilton.
“You okay?” she asked. He was unreadable, even to her newly tuned Hamilton-emotion sensors.
“Fine. Are you?”
She made a face at him. “Yes. It wasn’t dangerous or even traumatic, just uncomfortable. I feel a little bad for her. She’s trying to defend him from made-up villains.”
His grunt was skeptical.
“What?” she asked. “You don’t feel bad for her?”
“No. Chances are she knows what he’s like and that he’s done this before. You tried to explain things to her, but she doesn’t want to see, so she doesn’t. I don’t have much patience for willful blindness.”
She blinked at him until he shifted his weight.
“What?”
“I like it when you talk like that.” The words rushed out of her without waiting for permission first, and Leah cringed a little on the inside.
His eyes warmed, the banked fires in his eyes leaping to life. “Like what?”
“Like uptight poetry.”
It was his turn to go still for a moment before he moved, standing right in front of her before she realized that he was approaching. She tipped her head back—way back—to meet his gaze. She tried to hang on to her calm, but her heart was thundering with excitement. “Uptight?” His voice had a silky edge that made her shiver in the best way.
Reaching out a hand, she played with one of his shirt buttons. He’d taken his apron off for his break, so he was just in his normal clothes—which were nicer than most people’s go-to-work outfits. He wasn’t wearing a suit jacket or a tie, but everything else was there, including his once-shiny shoes that were now dusted in flour. She answered his question absently, focused on the way his arms bulged obviously, even under his sleeves, and how tempted she was to slip a finger or two in the gap between his buttons and touch that hard, hairy chest. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”
His body flinched back with surprise, pulling the button out of her grip. Before she could complain, he was back, closer than before. She reached up again, flattening her palm against his chest this time, her thumb sliding under the placket between two buttons. It made him suck in a breath, which pushed his chest into her touch. “One of your favorite things is that I’m uptight?”
“Yes.” Her thumb stroked his chest in a tiny sweep.
“Why?” The word was a low rasp as he wrapped his fingers around her hips, pulling her tight against him.
“I don’t know.” Now her voice had gone husky and soft to match his. “It’s just...you, I think.”
The doorbell sounded, and Leah resisted the urge to groan and swear. Instead, she turned, giving the couple who’d just entered a smile. Hamilton resisted for a second before releasing her hips after giving them a final squeeze.
Tilting his head so that his breath hit her ear, he spoke too quietly for the customers to hear.
“Soon.”
Leah made an odd hiccupping sound and tried to prevent her eyes from rolling back in her head. It better be soon, she thought, forcing another smile for the pair approaching the counter. If she had to wait much longer, she knew she’d melt into a horny puddle of goo on the bakery floor. She wanted her uptight landlord more than she’d ever wanted anyone. As she darted a quick glance at him over her shoulder, she caught the wicked promise in his narrowed, heated eyes.
Clearing her throat, she turned back to the customers, resisting the urge to fan her face. From his hungry expression, she was pretty sure she was going to get her wish—soon.