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“How about one of those cupcakes?” I suggested instead, angling my head toward the case.

She chewed at her bottom lip, the hard exterior gone. Like it was so heavily fabricated she didn’t have the strength to hold it up. “Do you see something you like?”

There was nothing but innocence in her expression. In her voice. She had no idea what those kinds of words would do to me. The way it sounded like she was offering herself up on a platter.

My gaze traced over her plain black V-neck tee, jeans, and flats she wore today. Her height dropped about five inches from Friday night.

Petite and delicate.

Apparently, good things did come in small packages, and I was about two seconds from telling her that she was what I wanted.

But there was just something that stopped me from saying it.

Something inside me that screamed to turn on my heel and get the hell out of there before it was too late. Warning me she was different in a way I liked far too much.

I guessed I shouldn’t have been surprised the really reckless side of myself was begging for a couple more seconds.

I forced my attention from her and turned it to the treats in the display, gaze roaming across the selection, basically salivating at the sight. Each cupcake was oversized, topped with swirls of rich, colorful frosting, finished with little pieces of candies and fresh fruits that matched the flavor and names of the cupcakes.

How the hell was I supposed to choose?

A grin twisted across my mouth when I saw it. Because really, there was no other choice.

I eyed her from over the case, the girl so dainty she was barely peeking at me from over the top.

I inclined my head. “I’ll take one of those.”

Strawberries and cream and everything sweet.

Hope slid the door open, ducking down, hand reaching in. “Which one?”

“Strawberry Shortcake.” I said it like it meant something else.

She heard it, too, and her entire being froze for a fraction of a second, and then she drew a sharp breath before she pulled one out. “Good choice,” she muttered.

“I’ve been told I have good taste.” My voice dropped low with the allusion.

She straightened, and for a beat, our gazes tangled.

Attraction wound tighter and tighter with each breath that passed.

She cleared her throat and turned to the back counter where she placed the cupcake in a clear plastic container. She spoke without looking my way. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

Right.

What I’d stopped for in the first place.

Clearly, this girl had the power to make me forget myself.

“Just a large black coffee will do. Medium roast.”

She filled a paper cup adorned with the shop’s name and logo on the side and placed a lid on it.

It was at the same second a clamor sounded from the back. The swinging door banged open as someone came bustling out.

Jenna.

Instantly, I recognized her from the bar.

The sex kitten from Friday night was gone, replaced with nothing but rumpled clothes and messy bun, potholder gloves on her hands as she carried out a large tray of steaming hot muffins.

When she caught sight of me, she stumbled in her tracks.

She recognized me, too.

I stood there trying not to laugh while a completely silent conversation transpired between the two of them.

Widened eyes. Tilted heads. Purses of lips.

Got the feeling they were arguing about me, though I had no idea which side either of them was bickering for.

Jenna stepped around Hope, and I was pretty sure it was a warning glare she shot me when she ducked down to start filling the bottom shelf in the case with muffins.

There was no missing the protectiveness that blazed in her brown eyes. Though I was pretty sure that was only the half of it, and she was restraining herself from grabbing Hope’s wrist, dragging her around the counter, and shoving her in my direction.

Go for it. But if you hurt her? I’ll gladly cut off your dick.

I heard it loud and clear.

Apparently, all three of us were proficient in silent communication.

Hope turned back around, slid the cup of coffee my way, and put the container into a brown paper gift bag.

I dug in my pocket for my wallet. “What do I owe you?”

She shook her head. “It’s on the house.” She offered me the sweetest kind of smile before it turned wry. “It is a bribe, after all.”

That grin on my mouth was growing wider with each second that passed. There was just something about this girl that put it there. So damned easily. Flickers of a blaze that’d been dead a really long time.

Before I went and did something stupid, I pulled a twenty from my wallet and stuffed it into the tip jar. “Thank you for the cupcake and coffee, Hope. I think this was exactly what I needed to kick off this new adventure in my life this morning.”


Tags: A.L. Jackson Fight for Me Romance