Chapter 22
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
SHAWN
As I stand in the middle of my bakery, I look around and wonder where I’ve gone wrong. I think about all of the money that will be completely blown here if I allow Elvis to help me out. It’s already been months, yet I can hardly get anyone to walk through the door, let alone buy anything.
“I really think I should just go to work for someone else. Maybe I was too ambitious and started this too young. I think I should have tried it later.”
Elvis snorts behind me. I spin around and face him, tilting my head back as I look up into his eyes. He is watching me, although he is expressionless as he does. I can tell he has something on his mind, but he’s not voicing it.
Instead, he just watches me, waiting for me to continue. “This isn’t working, and staying open longer isn’t going to change that, Elvis.”
He pushes off the wall he’s leaning against and saunters toward me, his boots hitting the floor with each step he takes, echoing in the small space. When he stops in front of me, he’s so close that I have to crane my neck hard to look up at him.
He dips his chin, his gaze searching mine for a second as he watches me, then he lifts his hand and cups my cheek. I feel his thumb slide across my bottom lip. His gaze follows his thumb’s path, then he flicks his eyes to meet mine again.
“You are meant for this, sweetness. This is going to not only work, but it will also thrive. Trust me. I believe in you. Let me fucking do this.”
Tears prick my eyes. I don’t think a single person in my entire life has told me that they believe in me, not in any capacity. And here he is, telling me everything I didn’t realize I needed to hear.
But I do.
I need it.
I take a deep breath and give him a smile. It’s a bit forced, but I’m trying. “Okay, do you have any suggestions?”
He grins. “I thought you’d never ask.”
I’m sure he doesn’t know much about bakeries, since this used to be his parents’ bar, and he rides motorcycles and delivers kegs of beer, but I decide he knows something about business. Since he’s offered to help fund this venture of mine, maybe he’s got some ideas for me.
I’m at the point where I will literally try anything.
Anything.
I arch a brow, waiting for whatever his suggestion could be. I imagine it’s got something to do with sex, but he surprises me when he speaks. He looks around the place, then shifts his attention back to me.
“Have you held any giveaways or classes?”
“Classes?”
He nods his head. “A kids’ baking class, a cookie decorating class. I’ve seen that shit before, and people love it. Gets people in the door.”
I thought I’d done everything. But when he mentions those things, I realize I haven’t.
“Weekly farmers’ market?” he asks. “It’s huge in Pineville. Everyone fucking goes every goddamn weekend. Hell,” he says. “Atomic goes every week.”
I blink.
I’m trying to picture Atomic at the farmers’ market.
I don’t ask what he buys because I’m too shocked that he even goes.
I just stare at Elvis, my lips parted, unable to close them at all.
He chuckles, no doubt finding my surprise hilarious.
I do, too, but I can’t even laugh at this point.
I’m not there yet. I’m still trying to process the whole thing.
Elvis finds this hilarious. I know because he bursts out laughing at my reaction. “He doesn’t bring his own canvas bags or anything. He goes for this homemade mead he likes and buys some grass-fed beef for the club.”
Again.
Shock.
“The club eats grass-fed beef?” I ask.
“Yeah, babe. Tastes better than that other shit. Besides, he funds that farm and free beef is our cut.”
I blink again, my mouth hanging even more open than it was a few moments ago. The more I learn, the more I am completely knocked off balance. I’m not sure what I should be saying or thinking. So, I stare.
“Anyway,” Elvis continues, “I know it’s quite a bit of prep, but I think it would be worth it. Your crowd is at the farmers’ market,” he says, and he’s right.
I know they are. I just never thought to do it if I had my own shop. But now that he’s suggested it, I can see it’s a really good idea and something that I should have done well before I even opened my own bakery. I probably would have had more success that way.
“Well, that’s a great idea,” I mutter.
I fucked up.
“Sweetness,” he murmurs. “You’re a phenomenal baker. You’re going to be just fine. Retail is hard as fuck, but I got your back.”
I’m quiet for a long moment, searching his gaze, and he closes the small distance between us, wrapping his fingers around the front of my throat before he speaks again. “I got your fuckin’ back, sweetness. You’re going to be goddamn famous in this shithole town.”
Then his mouth slams against mine. I’m breathless, thoughtless, and completely consumed by him.
KING
The wheels turn in Shawn’s head. I can tell she’s thinking about my suggestions. I like that. I need her to be tethered to this place, to this town. And then there’s this building.
It’s comforting, even though I hated every single fucking second of being here as a kid. It’s different now. Maybe it’s spite because I want to fuck with my parents, but mostly, it’s because it’s where I spent my entire childhood.
“Now let’s get to your place and pack you another bag,” I state.
Shawn tips her head backward, her eyes finding mine with a small smile. “I have a lot of work to do. And brainstorming. I should stay home and come to work early. I licked my wounds. It’s time for me to get back on my feet.”
Fuck.
This damn woman. I want to fuck her right here, but I know I was really rough with her earlier, so I have to tamp that down. Nodding my head, I inhale a deep breath and let it out slowly, then take a step backward.
“Okay, sweetness. I got some shit to do later, but I can hang out for a while.”
She shakes her head. “I’m fine, Elvis. I promise.”
I’m not sure I want to leave her alone, not that I think her piece-of-shit mother and brother are going to do anything. I am fairly certain they won’t even think about doing shit, let alone attempt anything.
“Yeah,” I grunt.
She smiles as she reaches out and takes my hand in hers. Why does this, her simple touch to my hand, make my cock twitch? I could fuck her any minute of any day. I can’t get enough of her. I’m obsessed.
And I’m afraid it could turn goddamn unhealthy if I’m not careful. Though I’m not sure I want to be careful either. I like being obsessed with her. I like the way she feels. I like the way she looks at me. I like everything about her, and I want more.
So much more.
Wrapping my fingers around hers, I gently tug her behind me and toward the door.
We need to leave before I fuck her again.
Once we’re outside, I watch as she locks the front door, then she does something that surprises me: she lifts her hand and places her palm on the door, right where the sticker of the bakery’s name and logo are placed.
Shawn turns her head, her eyes finding mine, and she smiles.
“I jumped into my dream. I jumped into you,” she begins.
I wonder if she’s going to say that it was all a mistake, but she slides her tongue along her bottom lip and shrugs.
Staying quiet, I wait for her to continue, and she does.
“But I don’t regret any of it. I couldn’t. ”
“Even when I’m an asshole?” I ask.
She laughs. “Are you ever not one? Truly?”
Grinning, I lean forward and touch my lips to hers. “Not really,” I murmur.
“Then even when you’re an asshole,” she breathes against my lips.
Instead of picking her up and fucking her against that door, I take a step backward and hold my hand out for her, palm facing up. She slips her hand in mine, and I curl my fingers around hers as we walk toward her place.
“We’re not riding?” she asks.
Turning my head, I look down at her with a smirk. “It’s nice out. Let’s walk.”
Before I realize what’s happening, she lifts her other hand, wraps her arm around mine, and rests her head against my bicep. Me in my boots and leather, her in her sneakers and fitted T-shirt. We look like complete opposites together, and yet I know we fit.
It doesn’t take us long to make our way toward the apartment. Climbing the stairs, I hate that we’re already here. She lifts her head, slides her backpack off her shoulders, and begins to dig into the front pocket, producing her keys.
I watch as she opens her door and steps inside, then follow behind her, closing the door and flipping the lock into place. The apartment seems undisturbed, empty. Shawn is talking, but I’m not listening to her as my eyes scan the small space.
“Did you hear me?” she asks.
Flicking my gaze from the sofa to her, I tilt my head to the side. “I didn’t,” I confess.
She wrinkles her nose. It’s cute as fuck, but I can tell she’s likely annoyed with me. Doesn’t matter. Scanning her surroundings was a lot more important than anything she had to say.
“I wanted to know if you were hungry? Thirsty?”
My lips twitch into a small smile. Shaking my head slowly, I clear my throat. “No, sweetness. I’m good. I should probably get back to the clubhouse and get to work. I’ll text you, yeah?”
She nods her head, her gaze focused on mine, and the way those green eyes look into my own, I don’t want to fucking go anywhere. I want to stay right fucking here—forever.
Fuck.
Goddamn.
I’ve never been owned by anyone. I’m owned by my club in a way, but this is different. I never thought a woman would own me this way, but she does. She fucking owns me, all of me. And I don’t think I want it any other way, ever.