Chapter Four #2
She hopped in her car, and he followed her on some sleek black-and-chrome motorcycle.
Watching him lean over the machine, his thighs hugging the bike as it roared and purred, seeing him handle it with an enticing male grace and agility, totally revved her desire.
She’d always dated seemingly good guys…who never turned out to be quite as good as she’d thought. Jamie was all bad boy.
And Bristol couldn’t wait.
A few miles shy of Lewisville, Jayla called, so she answered the call right away. “Hey!”
“I tried to save you, but your mama wouldn’t listen.”
“Save me?” Her stomach tightened with worry. “Uh oh. What does that mean?”
“She wants you to come to dinner on Tuesday night—and to bring Jamie.”
“I can’t. He’s my Saturday night fling.”
“Well, your mama thinks he’s your new man.”
“And whose fault is that?” Bristol groused. “He and I will have to ‘break up’ before then.”
Jayla got quiet. That was never a good sign.
“Spit it out. What’s the issue?”
“Your mama invited half of Lewisville, and the townsfolk are starting to wonder out loud if you’re even interested in hanging onto a man.”
Bristol gripped the steering wheel. “I’m not—not anymore.”
“But you know how they think. You’re either a good girl looking to get married or a ho-bag who doesn’t deserve their business.”
“Damn it. So if I don’t pair up with Jamie until death do us part before he dumps me horribly—much later—I’ll lose their sympathy and no one will buy another mushroom omelet or peach cobbler from me?”
“Why are you asking? You know that’s pretty much how it is.”
This debacle would probably sound crazy to anyone who didn’t live in a tiny town. But here, where everyone knew everybody and their business, Jayla’s reminder was irrefutable.
Bristol sighed. “I’ll deal with it. Thanks for the warning.”
“You’re welcome. Thanks for not shooting the messenger.”
When the call ended, Bristol tried to decide exactly how to plead or bribe Jamie into coming to dinner on Tuesday night.
Since it sounded as if he was between jobs, hopefully it wouldn’t be a problem.
Normally, that would bother her since she preferred to date guys who were gainfully employed.
But she wasn’t planning a long-term relationship with Jamie, just hot sex.
She glanced in the rearview mirror. He still sat about twenty feet off her back bumper as they headed east on Highway 82.
Maybe she could sweet-talk the man or feed him incredible desserts to make him stay through Tuesday.
Or tie him to her bed. That had appeal. Though she’d like it better if he tied her down.
And if the townsfolk found out she fantasized about that, they’d absolutely come after her with pitchforks.
Still, she imagined what she and Jamie might do together, her autopilot keeping her compact on the highway.
When she looked up again, they were cruising into Lewisville.
Along the town’s main drag, on the corner, she saw her shop and pulled into the parking lot behind the building just as the sun dipped toward the horizon.
Lewisville looked its best this time of day.
Even then, it still appeared older, sometimes a bit neglected.
Most children raised here left the moment they could.
Bristol wondered why she’d stayed. Concern for her mother and sister?
Memories of Daddy? Or being too afraid to leave everything she’d ever known?
Shaking off the thought, she stepped out of her car, purse on her shoulder, as Jamie climbed off his bike.
“Cute little town,” he said.
“Small.”
“Quaint,” he corrected.
“That’s a nice way of putting it.” She gestured to her place. “Want a tour of the bakery?”
“Sure.”
She let them both in the back door. She mostly kept supplies here, along with a small office in the corner.
Flipping on lights, she led him into her kitchen, which sparkled—just as it did every day after the close of business.
Her industrial oven and mixer gleamed. Pristine stainless countertops covered the length of two walls, waiting for her to create the next yummy treat.
The town bank had refused to loan money to a “kid,” so she’d driven to Texarkana and secured the funds herself.
No co-signer. No handouts. She’d built this place from scratch, and she was damn proud of it.
“So this is where the dough happens?” He winked.
“Yeah. And up front here…” Bristol directed him through the next door and into the front of the shop with its display cases and bistro tables. “This is the customer area. I can only seat twenty since the building is a converted brownstone and this room is the former parlor. But I’m proud of it.”
Jamie looked around, seeming to take in every nuance. His eyes gleamed with appreciation. “It’s got a lot of charm. Most places I go have none.”
She frowned. “What has you traveling so much?”
“Gotta make a buck.” He shrugged. “Do you live somewhere near your shop?”
She wondered what he did for a living but got the feeling he didn’t want to talk about it. And did she really need to know if they were simply going to have a fling? “Upstairs.”
Maybe it wasn’t smart to take a stranger home, but she didn’t think Jamie was dangerous. He hadn’t once pushed or tried to manipulate her. He’d let her set the pace all evening. That mattered. Besides, her family and friends knew who she’d gone home with. No doubt, Jayla would check on her.
Bristol took Jamie’s hand and guided him to the staircase she and Jayla had restored to its original gleaming wood, just like the floors. Together, they charged up to her apartment, and she unlocked the door.
As it creaked open, the last golden rays of the day illuminated her rustic chic space—the cozy white sofa, the glass table built on whiskey barrels, the braided rug under her grandmother’s dining room table.
He glanced around, then cocked his head in thought. “It’s you.”
She smiled and shut the door behind them, flipping on the overhead lights. “Yeah?”
“Comfortable, happy, unvarnished. I like it.”
“Thanks.” He seemed to get her, and that did Bristol’s heart a world of good.
Hayden had hated this place. He liked things grander and more formal, not an eclectic grouping of her favorite things.
He called antiques “recycled junk.” “But you didn’t come all the way to Lewisville to comment on my decor, right? ”
“No.” He turned to her, his hands suddenly engulfing her hips, his stare drilling down into her eyes. “I did not.”
“So what did you come to do?” she challenged.
He gave her a panty-melting grin as he pulled her closer, fitting her flush against his body where she could feel every inch of him. “Make you glad you let me follow you home.”
Bristol swallowed and lifted her face to him. “Are you finally going to kiss me?”
“Eager?”
She gave him a coy shrug. “A little.”
He took her face in his hands. “Let’s see if we can make that a lot.”