“There’s a hottie out in the front asking for you, and he looks familiar.”

I glance up at Cherry from where I’m putting cookies on a cooling rack. “He look like a model? Like he just rolled out of bed? Messy hair and what looks like a perpetual five-o’clock shadow?”

“Yes, and a body to die for, like if I could see under his clothes, I could probably bounce a quarter off the abs he’s sporting.” Her eye dance with appreciation. “Wonder if we could get him to stand outside and offer up free samples? We’d have women and men beating our door down.”

I laugh as I wipe my hands off on a towel, knowing she’s telling the truth. “You recognize him because he’s a professional baseball player.” I can’t help the way my stupid heart has sped up, knowing Slater’s out in the front. “He’s Savage, the one who hurt his knee during Spring Training. There was a lot of media coverage about it.”

“Oh my God! That is him. He’s wearing a tank top and I can see a tattoo on his chest and upper arm. That’s what’s throwing me off. You typically can’t see it when he’s on the field. You only see him with part of it showing.”

I’d been with him when he got one of those tattoos, the smallest of the bunch. Lying about his age at seventeen and using the fact he was the starting center-fielder on the local high school baseball team. He shouldn’t have been able to get it, but he had. He hadn’t even had to pay for it. That probably should have been my first indication that he wasn’t like the other boys we went to high school with.

“How do you know him?” Cherry asks, her eyes wide, already hanging on whatever it is I’m about to say.

“We were engaged in high school, and I went out on a date with him last night.” It gives me a little thrill to admit that we went out. I didn’t sleep well at all after I’d gotten home because I still had his taste on my lips, the burn of his stubble on my skin.

“Malone! What the hell? You’ve been holding out on me.”

Rubbing my hands on my apron, in a nervous gesture this time, I laugh loudly. “I’ve been holding out on everybody. Not many of the people who still live in this town know about what we were to each other when we were teenagers, and those that do, don’t bring it up. We had a really bad breakup. So bad I didn’t date for two years afterward, and neither one of us has moved on.”

“Well you gotta go out there and wait on him. Obviously he didn’t come here for the sweets, if you look at his body. He came here to see you.”

“Don’t let those abs fool you.” I smile as I recall some of those memories I have of him. Memories no one else will ever have, nor will they find out about. They’re mine and mine alone. “Slater’s got a hell of a sweet tooth.”

Before I walk out, I turn to her, pushing my hair back. If I had makeup with me, I’d touch up my face, but I didn’t think to bring any with me today, and now I’m regretting it. If he might be stopping by from now on, maybe it’s something I should take time to fool with in the morning, or at least carry it with me. “Do I look okay?”

“Beautiful! Go get him, Malone.”

As she says it, I hope what we’re doing is right, I hope we aren’t setting ourselves up for a letdown. Getting involved with him again could lead to more hurt, more heartache, and who’s to say either one of us will be able to bounce back from it the way we have now. But after last night, I feel differently about him than I have in the past.

I miss him. I miss the us we used to have. I miss the easy way he and I used to be around one another. For hours we would sit around, not having to speak to each other, no explanation was needed - we could just be together. Just being with him was one of my favorite things. My favorite spot was in his arms, curled up against his chest with my head tucked under his chin. Not having that for ten years is a long time, and I realize with great clarity that no one else has ever felt like home to me. He holds that distinction, and that feeling means something. It shouldn’t be thrown away, it shouldn’t be forgotten, shouldn’t be watered down just to make me feel better about what happened in the past. It should be nurtured and maybe, just maybe we can get back what we once had. Only it won’t be the same. With any luck, it’ll be so much better.

Taking a deep breath, I walk out into the main lobby, but keep the case between us. “Hey.” I grin, loving the way he looks mussed and sleepy.

I allow myself to believe he came here first, before he did anything else. I’m that priority in his life, and damn does it feel good.

The way she says hey is the cutest, sexiest thing I’ve heard. No one in my life has ever had a voice like Malone Fulcher. I swear she sounds as if she’s smoked three packs of cigarettes today. Couple that with the southern accent that’s never gone away, and her tone gives me an instant hard-on.

“Hey,” I answer back, reaching down to discreetly readjust my package.

“What are you doing in here? Don’t you normally go over to Del’s for your egg white omelet?” She gives me shit, just like she always has. It feels good, feels right, and turns me on to argue with her.

“It’s against the law for me to come get a donut?” I lean against the counter, scratching the back of my head as I watch her.

“Not if you really want the donut.” She plays along. “What was it you told me back in the day? You have to run a mile to burn off a donut.”

She points to the donuts in the case. This particular one with sprinkles and pink icing. The pink reminds me of the color of her lips, probably tastes as sweet as she does too. “Is the donut worth it, Slater?”

“It is,” I answer truthfully, my dark eyes meeting her light ones. “Sometimes you take the hit, you do the extra mile, and you enjoy the sweeter things in life.”

“You’ve come a long way.” She reaches in, grabbing the sweet treat. “I remember when you’d never let something like this pass across your lips.”

“Back then I had all the sweetness I needed, but it came from-” I give her a wink “-other sources, I guess you could say.”

I watch, fascinated as her face turns a pretty pink, and those lips of hers plump up. Her eyes dilate, and I wonder if underneath the apron she wears her nipples are hard. I know she knows exactly what I’m talking about. Back when we were kids all we cared about was getting alone so that we could explore each other’s bodies. Horny wasn’t just a state of mind, it was a way of life. I have a feeling we could be back there quickly if we don’t watch it. One thing we’ve never been lacking is off-the-charts chemistry, even if we didn’t always know what do with it.

“You having a bit of a dry spell?” She hands me the food I’ve been eyeing.

“For what I really want? ‘Bout ten years.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, but they’re one hundred percent the truth. “How about you?”

She’s moved down to the cash register, and finally there’s not that damn counter in between us. Her exposed chest is red, I can see her pulse fluttering at her throat, and she keeps glancing at me under those long eyelashes of hers.

“If you were a gentleman you wouldn’t ask.”

Leaning in, I crook my finger at her. Before giving me a coy gaze, she leans in. My lips are so close to her ear, I can feel her skin against them. “I never claimed to be a gentleman, in fact, I think most have called me a savage. But maybe I should reacquaint your body with my attention? If you think I’m a gentleman, you need a refresher.”

She eyes me, shifting from one foot to the other. “I really don’t think I’d say no,” she whispers, the blatant honesty in those green eyes of hers.

“I wouldn’t either,” my admission a groan of need.

Someone else comes in, causing the bell over the door to ring, knocking us both out of our passionate haze. I give her a wave as she goes to help the other person. As I walk out and take a bite of the donut, I realize just how much I’ve missed having her taste in my mouth.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Mack asks as I drift off while doing one of my exercises. It’s boring, it’s repetitive, and I desperately need something to take my mind off of Malone.

“Just got a lot on my mind,” I admit. “And I’m sick of doing this shit. I’m ready for something a little tougher.”

“How about we do the pool today?”

“You think I’m ready for that?” I know that when they move me to the pool, I’ll be able to run. First it’ll only be in the water, but then the next step is to run the way I like to.

My heart speeds up as I think about what this means. I’ve wanted to feel pavement beneath my feet for so long, and not just walking. I’ve fucking missed running, everything about it. The high I get from it, the physical release, the activity, and even the way my body is sore after I push myself particularly hard. I want this so bad I can taste it.

“Yeah, I think you’re ready for it. You’ve gained quite a bit of mobility in the knee. The doctor said you’re progressing right on track. As long as you ice it tonight, I see no reason why you can’t. We’ve gotta take it easy, but we’ll never know what you can handle until we give you something to test your limits.”

Those right there? They’re the best words I’ve heard since I got injured. They make me believe I truly can come back from this, give me hope that this isn’t going to ruin my career, and make me feel like I’m the man I’ve always been.

“Go get changed and meet me in the pool. We’re about to put you to work.”

I don’t think I’ve moved that fast in almost three months.