“Never!” she practically screeched at him.

Deciding that this conversation was going nowhere, she scrabbled for her purse and turned, intending to flounce out of this impossible bastard’s office and never return. He grabbed her arm as she brushed past him.

“Let me go,” she seethed between gritted teeth.

“Just hear me out?” The imploring gaze in his milk-chocolate eyes helped set her somewhat at ease. Deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to listen to what he had to say, but still angry, she yanked her arm from his grip. Refusing to sit across from him at his massive, overbearing desk, she opted instead to sit stiffly on the edge of the thick, leather sofa.

He joined her there, but left some space between them, evidently sensing her simmering anger. “I fell in love with your town while I was there,” he admitted quietly before adding, “and I have decided to infuse some money into the local economy for some much-needed improvements.”

That last bit spiraled her already on-edge nerves over the edge. “You think my bakery requires some much-needed improvements?!?” She felt hurt and outraged that he had walked into the place that she had poured her heart and soul into for years and found it to be lacking.

“No, let me back up.” He could tell that she was livid about his insinuation. “I didn’t mean your business, although it could use a little influx of cash.” When her bright blue eyes bulged out at his statement, he clarified, “Just for some updated, bigger appliances and display cases. You’ve done a marvelous job with your business with minimal means.”

Her frantic breath began to return to a somewhat normal pace after his compliment, until he added, “It could just use some tweaking.”

“That’s it.” She stood up abruptly. “I don’t need to sit here and listen to you insult me, my bakery, or my town. I happen to think that all three are magnificent just the way we are, and, to be honest, it really doesn’t matter what you think.”

Standing up to him felt good, but the way his eyes were sparkling up at her was unnerving. She wished he wasn’t so damn handsome. His blatant sexiness made it difficult to stay focused on the topic at hand––what an ass he was.

Planning to make a grand exit, Ellie whirled around to leave, but she paused at Trey’s desperate call. “Wait!”

She turned slowly, but tapped her foot in impatience when he scrubbed a hand over his face. “This is coming out all wrong.” His admission was a surprising sign of vulnerability. Her natural tendency was to soften, but she knew it might be a shrewd business maneuver, so she kept her guard up.

“I love your town,” he revealed. “I love everything about it.” He went on to list many of the same things she loved about the quaint locale, “the vintage book store, the cozy coffee shop, the old fashioned grocery store with the creaky wooden floors, the tiny hardware store with the jingling bells on the door, the crazy artist’s studio, and especially the delectable bakery on the corner.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his fond and accurate descriptions of the place she chose to call home. “Then why do you want to come in and change it?” she asked him, honestly perplexed.

“Oh, I only want to make it better,” he reassured her, making her wonder if their ideas of ‘better’ would align. “I was thinking that the dilapidated former gas station would make a great ice cream shop, and I’d like to turn the closed bank building into a library.”

She nodded, imagining his vision of the proposed changes and loving his ideas. “What about the bakery? If you like it, why do you want to change it?” she asked him, nervous about his answer, but needing to know. She couldn’t imagine him adding a Starbucks to his project list for town improvements, but why did he want to buy it?

“I was buying it for you,” he admitted.

Confused, she said, “I already own it.”

“The bank owns it,” he corrected her. “All of your profits go towards paying the bills each month. I’m amazed you have enough left over to live on.”

Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment that he had figured out her financial predicament. “It might seem impossible to you,” she waved her hands around, indicating their surroundings, “but it can be very hard to make money.”

“I know that, and you’re doing an amazing job with it.” He sounded so understanding and sincere that she had to fight to keep the tears at bay. “All I wanted to do was inject a little cash into the business to make things easier for you. I’ll remain a silent business partner, if that is what you want.”

“No,” she shook her head adamantly. “The bakery is mine, and I’m not selling it––not any of it––to anyone.”

“Okay,” he nodded, seeming to finally accept her answer. Changing tactics, he asked, “Would you consider hiring me? It seems that I am in need of a job.”