“I can’t believe you have the nerve to come over here and tell me what hours to work.”
“Believe it.” She thrusts her hands on her hips and her robe pops open at the top. The little gap is enough to reveal a low cut tank top, and a hefty view of her soft, sexy cleavage. I immediately stiffen against my zipper, and I can’t tell if it’s her nerve or the way her cleavage makes me want to rip off all of her clothes and taste every square inch of her luscious, curvy body.
“Six-thirty.” I manage to toss out.
“Fine.” She lets out a sigh, pouting her lips in the process. “But, seven o’clock on my days off.”
“What are your days off?”
“Today. Other than that.” She shakes her head. “It varies.”
“Well,” I say, feeling brave. “Maybe you can shoot me your schedule so I’ll know when to keep it down.”
“Fine.” She yawns, and the sassy woman before me melts into someone who’s been up past their bedtime. It makes me want to scoop her up and carry her to bed…and stay there with her. “Can you just please keep it down this morning. I’ve been pulling some long hours getting the bakery up and running. I need my beauty rest.”
“I don’t think you need it.”
Her doe eyes sparkle in the warm light of my woodshop. I mean it as a compliment, but instead of thanking me, Winona pulls her robe tighter and turns on her heels.
“Please, just give me one good hour?” She says over her shoulder, and leaves without waiting for an answer. For a couple of seconds, I don’t move. Once I get my wits about me, I peer out the door and watch Winona walk back across the property line to her side. Her round hips sway with each step.
I’d heard that the Sweet sisters were a good looking group of women, but I didn’t expect to be gobsmacked by Winona. A shiver races across my shoulder blades as she rounds the corner, out of sight.
I’m not a man who falls at the feet of women, but I’ll be damned if a woman like Winona Sweet barges into my life and expects to leave as anything less than mine.
3
Winona
It’samazing what a day off can do to your spirit, even if it’s just spent grocery shopping, watching Netflix, and chilling at your sister’s house. Of course I end up staying all night at Meg’s, she loves sleepovers even if she acts like she’s too tough for anything on God’s green Earth—I blame too many years living in the city.
We’re at the bakery by a little after seven, and of course, Carolyn is already aproned up and ready to face the day. “You’re always so chipper,” Meg says, then throws her purse on the counter.
“I just cleaned the glass, Megs.” Carolyn scoops it back up and hands it back to her. “And it’s easy to be chipper when you do what you love.”
“And are in love.” I say under my breath.
Carolyn rolls her eyes and continues humming as she re-wipes the glass counter. My sister’s been struck by cupid’s arrow. Reluctant as she was, she finally opened her heart and let that hot cop into her life. I’m glad she did, for all of our sakes.
“We watched the most messed up True Crime documentary last night.” Meg reaches into the cabinet and pulls out a caramel apple fritter. “Seriously, if I ever date someone who seems too good to be true, smack me across the face and tell me to wise up.”
“I’m not smacking you!” I throw my hands in the air.
“I give you permission.” Meg wipes the crumbs from her chin.
“Uh-uh. Something tells me you won’t remember this conversation and I’ll end up with a black eye,” I say.
“Yeah.” Meg licks the sugar from her bottom lip then pivots toward her office in back, calling over her shoulder. “You’re probably right. Don’t even try it.”
“Oh crap!” Carolyn says, thumping her palm against her forehead. “I forgot to put out the fresh batch of cupcakes. Watch the front.”
I don’t have time to answer, let alone prepare myself a cup of coffee before Carolyn high tails it to the back kitchen. Simultaneously, the front door chimes.
Awesome. Customers before coffee. Can there be anything worse?
I plaster a smile and turn toward the door. My greeting dies in my throat as my smoking hot neighbor, Levi, steps into the bakery. The image of him sweating, slaving over a piece of wood pops into my head, but in this vision, it’s me he’s bent over, having his way with me. The image is so vivid, I nearly soak straight through my panties.
“Morning, neighbor.” He says, showing off that stellar dimple that I thought only belongs to movie stars.