Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Josy
I’m hyper-focused on cleaning the pastry display, needing to keep my hands busy, needing to distract myself from the one person who’s been occupying too much space in my mind.
It’s been two week since I last saw him.
The truth is, I’m relieved. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
But deep down, I know the real reason I’m avoiding him.
I want to see him. I want to feel his presence, hear his deep voice, and catch that crooked smile of his.
But I can’t. Not after what happened. Not after I told him that I just wanted to be his friend.
There are some moments during the day I am happy with that decision, but others I curse myself.
I had the opportunity to explore something with the love of my life and, like an idiot, I let my insecurities and fear to say no. What a dumb bitch!
He’s supposed to finish the renovations on the shop soon, and I’ve been doing everything I can to stay away until it’s completely done.
I can't afford to have another moment like last Saturday. One more touch, one more heated look, and I’m afraid I’ll completely lose control.
My heart might want it, but my mind is determined to keep a tight grip on the reins.
My body doesn’t seem to care about my head’s resolve, though.
Every time I think about him, my skin tingles, and my pulse picks up.
It’s frustrating. I can't let myself fall into that again. I’ve spent years building this wall between us, years trying to move on, and one day, one incredible, heated, heart-wrenching day almost tore it all down.
No. I shake my head, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on the glass. I won’t let myself go there. I can’t. I’ve worked too hard to let Noah invade all my thoughts like that again.
As I wipe the glass in hard, determined strokes, I try to force myself to think of anything else. The shop, the pastries I’ll bake tomorrow, the new tables I want to order—anything but the way Noah looked at me, touched me, made me feel like I was the only woman in the world for him.
But it’s no use. He’s everywhere, in every corner of my mind, in every space I turn to for relief. There’s no escaping Noah. And I guess if I don’t do something soon, these feelings will eat me alive.
“I think that’s pretty clean.” Violet’s voice cuts through my thoughts, startling me out of my trance.
I blink, looking at the pastry display that’s been spotless for the last five minutes. "Oh. Yeah, I just want it to be perfect." I try to sound casual, hoping she doesn’t catch on to the whirlwind going on inside me.
Violet raises an eyebrow, folding her arms as she leans against the counter. “Are you okay?”
I force a smile, nodding a bit too quickly. "Yes. Why?"
She gives me that look that says she knows better. “Nothing, it’s just... you’ve seemed really distracted lately. You’re always in your head, and I was wondering if something happened that you haven’t told me about.”
I swallow, suddenly aware of the cleaning rag I’ve been twisting nervously in my hands. I try to meet her gaze, but it feels like she’s seeing right through me. "Umm, no, everything’s good." My voice wavers a little, and I know it’s not convincing.
Violet’s quiet for a moment, studying me with concern. I know I’m not fooling her.
“You know I am here, right?”
“Yes. Everything is okay, I promise.”
“Okay, I will let it go if you promise that you’ll will talk to me whenever you are ready.”
“I promise. I really appreciate that you are concerned about me, and I love you for that. But really, I am okay.” I don’t know if I want to convince Violet or myself.
At my words Violet nods and smiles at me.
“Well, I guess I will go and work on my computer. I need to finish creating the post for this week’s special. ”
“Let me know if you need me. I will be right here. Not going anywhere.” Why am I being awkward.
That’s why she knows something is going on.
She is not stupid, but I can’t seem to tell her what is eating at me.
If I do, it will make it real. And I don’t want to.
I want to deny that I ever slept with Noah, and that he did not come to my house to tell me that he wants something other than friendship.
I know that if Violet learns about this, she won’t stop pestering me. She won’t understand why I’m hesitant.
I glance around the shop, checking if we have any customers, but it’s empty.
With a sigh, I pull my phone from my back pocket and open it to check our social media.
Ever since Violet started her marketing plan, we’ve been gaining more followers.
I love reading the comments about how much people enjoy our coffee and pastries.
As I scroll through the latest posts, a text notification pops up.
My heart skips a beat when I see Noah’s name. Without thinking, I smile and open the message. I don’t understand my crazy self—I want him, but I don’t want him, and the push and pull is tearing me apart.
Noah: The work is complete. Can you come and do the final walkthrough with me?
Wow. I can’t believe he’s already finished. Just last week he still needed to work on the kitchen and bathrooms. This is exciting, more than I expected it to be.
Me: When do you need me to go?
Noah: Are you available later today? If not, we can meet tomorrow.
Me: I can’t today, but tomorrow sounds good.
Noah: Perfect. 10 am work for you?
Me: See you there.
Noah: See you, sweetheart.
I stare at the screen for a second longer than necessary, my heart doing that little flutter thing it does whenever he calls me “sweetheart.” Why does that word have such an effect on me? I close the text and tuck my phone away, my mind already racing ahead to tomorrow.
The thought of seeing him tomorrow lingers in my mind, making my heart race a little faster. When I glance up, I notice Violet sitting at a table, staring straight at me. We lock eyes for a moment, and I force a smile, trying to act casual.
Violet raises an eyebrow and shakes her head, giving me that familiar look like she knows exactly who I was texting just now. Her lips curl into a smirk, and her eyes narrow as if she’s silently saying, Really?
I can feel my cheeks heating up under her gaze. Busted.
I ignore her and keep to myself the rest of the day.
The closer I get to Sweet Springs, the more nervous I become.
I’ve tried everything from deep breathing, listening to a podcast, an audiobook, and even put on some relaxing music, but nothing works.
I’m too keyed up knowing that in just a few minutes, I’ll be standing in front of Noah for the first time since he gave me that gentle goodbye kiss on my porch.
I have no idea how I’m supposed to act once I get there. I’ve run through a few different scenarios in my head, trying to prepare myself, but it doesn’t help. My heart's racing, and I can’t seem to calm down.
When I pull up to the shop, the first thing I notice is the light pink paint I requested.
It’s exactly how I imagined it. The shop looks great from the outside, and I’m so pleased.
The crew installing the sign will be here next week.
The tables, chairs, and decorations will start arriving soon after, and I’ll be able to open the doors in less than a month.
It’s a lot of work, but I’m beyond excited.
Stepping out of my car, I head toward the entrance, trying to prepare myself for two things: seeing the complete remodel of the place and, more importantly, coming face-to-face with the man who’s haunted my dreams since I was fifteen.
As I open the door, I’m hit by how much the shop has transformed.
The walls that once made the space feel cramped are gone, replaced with a beautiful open space.
The entire place feels open and inviting now, and the floors gleam like they’ve just been polished.
It’s amazing what a little paint and some clean floors can do.
“Hi, sweetheart. What do you think?” Noah’s voice catches me off guard.
I turn to see him standing there, the sight of him making my heart race.
He’s wearing his usual black jeans and shirt, but today he’s added a backward hat, making him look even sexier.
He’s also let his beard grow out since the last time I saw him, giving him a rugged, yet undeniably attractive look.
That beard is dangerously distracting. It's not just a five o’clock shadow anymore; it’s a full-on beard, and somehow it makes him look even more handsome than before.
Every time I see this man, he manages to leave me speechless.
I try to play it cool, even though I’m dying inside.
Ignoring the way he calls me sweetheart, I respond, “This is amazing, Noah. It doesn’t even look like the same place I rented last month. ”
“That’s just the entrance. Wait until you see the kitchen and the restrooms. Come on.” He gestures for me to follow him, leading me toward the back of the shop where the restrooms are.
He opens the door to the ladies’ room, and I step inside.
It’s completely redone with a newly installed toilet and a baby changing station.
The walls are painted a soft lavender that matches perfectly with the pink exterior.
“Wow, this is nice. I love how the color ties in with the pink outside,” I say, genuinely impressed.
I step out and head into the other restroom, which is a mirror image of the first but painted in a light blue.
“Let me show you the kitchen,” Noah says. “I’ve already installed all the appliances that came in last week. I think you’ll love how it turned out.”
As he talks about the kitchen, my mind betrays me, flashing back to two weeks ago when we had sex on that very countertop he’s so proud of.
Every kiss, every touch comes rushing back, and I can feel the heat rising in my body.
It’s impossible to forget the way his hands felt on me, even though I’m trying to focus on the present.
I have no control over my emotions as I follow him to the kitchen.
When I step inside, I see the ovens installed, two refrigerators neatly placed on the other side of the kitchen, and the counter sitting there, practically calling my name.
I try to focus on the appliances and fresh paint on the walls, but I can feel Noah’s gaze on me.
When I turn in a full circle, I catch him watching me, clearly paying attention to my every reaction.
My words stick in my throat as I meet his brown eyes.
The way he’s looking at me makes my pulse quicken, like he’s thinking the exact same thing I am.
He walks to the counter, running his hand over the cool metal surface, and I can’t help but follow the movement with my eyes, remembering the way those same hands touched me.
“Do you like how the kitchen turned out?” His eyes traveling down my body and slowly making their way back up to meet mine. His stare is intense, and I can feel it unraveling me, no matter how hard I try to stay composed.
He smirks, fully aware of the effect he’s having on me. He knows my body is betraying me, how much I want him.
Clearing my throat, I finally answer his question. “Yeah, you did an amazing job. I can already picture how it’ll look once the mixers, cooling racks, and all the other little things are added. I really appreciate how quickly you got it done.”
“I was happy to do it,” he says, voice low. “I wanted to see that smile on your face when you first saw it. If you need anything else installed, any changes, just let me know. I’ll take care of it.”
“Sure.” I nod, my gaze flicking everywhere but him, trying to keep it professional.
“I’ll, uh, send the payment over today. Thanks again for everything.” Walking toward him, extending my hand like some kind of businesswoman, trying to keep things formal.
But the moment his hand touches mine, I know I’ve made a mistake. The contact sends a rush of heat through me, and I realize shaking hands was the last thing I should’ve done.