42. Olivia
Chapter 42
Olivia
I was still reeling from the shock of seeing Landon yesterday. For a moment, when I first saw him standing there, I hoped he was there because he missed me and wanted to talk. But he seemed just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. Then he admitted he thought I’d sold the bakery, and that hope withered and blew away like dust on the wind.
But he didn’t buy anything.
The voice in the back of my mind broke into my thoughts, but I brushed it away. He merely forgot what he came in here for when he saw me and left without making a purchase.
Still, I hoped that someday, once everything was settled with his brother and I was re-established in town, we could find our way back to each other. It wouldn’t happen right away, but I was willing to wait until the time was right.
I pulled a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls from the oven and placed them on the counter. Checking my watch, I saw it was almost time to open, so I went to the front and turned on the Open sign. It lit up, and I unlocked the door before disappearing into the back to ice the rolls while they were still warm.
It wasn’t long before the bell chimed, signaling the arrival of my first customer. Sugar & Sage opened an hour earlier now than it did during renovations. I was pleasantly surprised by the number of people who stopped by on their way to work. The morning rush kept me busy and prevented my mind from wandering. I could lose myself in my work and not think about Landon non-stop like I had been since seeing him yesterday.
Wiping the icing from my hands, I went to the front to wait on the new customer. More people filtered in, and soon there was a line. Most people wanted a coffee and pastry to start their morning, but a few were after treats to take to the office. We’d been open for about half an hour when a familiar deep voice slid over my skin like warm honey.
“Good morning.” I looked up from the register where I had just finished the previous customer's transaction and found Landon watching me, his lips tipped up in an easy grin.
“Landon,” I said breathlessly, and his smile grew. I cleared my throat and tried to compose myself. “What can I get for you?”
“I need a half dozen lemon blueberry muffins please.” My heart stopped, and my breath caught in my throat. That was what I’d given him the first time I tried to send him away with a peace offering. According to Bobby, he never touched them, so why was he ordering them now?
“Okay,” I replied, turning my back to him to grab a box. I took my time slipping the cupcake insert into it as I gathered my wits. It didn’t mean anything. The muffins were popular, and I only made them twice a week. That was all it was.
I turned around, and without sparing Landon another glance, I opened the case and began filling the box. I closed it, rang him up, and told him the total. He slid his card to me, and I swiped it. Still, I wouldn’t look at him. I couldn’t .
“Thank you,” he said when I handed the box to him. His calloused fingers closed over mine, and the warmth from his hands seeped into my skin. Finally, I looked up. We watched each other, our gazes locked for a moment as he cradled my hands in his. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a heavy swallow. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but the bell chimed again, alerting me to another customer’s arrival. I slid my hands from his and dropped the box into his waiting palms.
“Enjoy,” I offered with a shaky smile. He gave me one last lingering look before nodding and walking out of my bakery.
Landon returned the next day at the same time. The shop was empty save for the woman in the corner working from her laptop with a large coffee and mostly untouched croissant cooling on her plate. He missed the morning rush by mere minutes. My gaze flitted down his body appreciatively. He wore a plain white tee stretched over his broad shoulders, the muscles of his sculpted chest visible beneath the stark material. His jeans sat low on his hips and hugged his ass like a second skin. It wasn’t fair of him to stroll in here looking like that, especially since I knew just how good he looked underneath it all. I had traced every dip and hard ridge of his body with my fingers and explored most of them with my tongue.
His mouth turned up in a satisfied grin when he noticed me checking him out. Heat rose to my cheeks, and I wanted to hide, but it was too late. He was already at the counter ready to place his order.
“How can I help you?” I asked cheerily. He raked his gaze over me from my face to my torso and back up. There was a devious tilt to his lips and a quirk to his brow that suggested a myriad of things he’d like my help with.
“Six éclairs, please.” I blinked at him, and stunned silence filled the space between us. Had I heard him correctly? I cleared my throat and moved to the case.
“Six éclairs, you said?”
“That’s right,” he confirmed. I began filling the box with shaking hands, and an odd sense of Deja Vu washed over me.
It was silly. He probably didn’t even remember the items I'd given him as peace offerings a couple months ago. It wasn’t like he’d eaten any of them. Maybe it was a coincidence that he’d requested the items I’d given him back then in the same order and in the exact same quantity as before.
“Thank you,” he said once he completed his purchase. This time, I placed the box on the counter for him to pick up, so I didn’t risk touching him. I wasn’t sure I could handle the feel of those calloused hands on mine again, those long, deft fingers brushing against my knuckles. All that did was remind me of how they felt on my body. It was pure torture.
Like clockwork, he was back, at eight thirty sharp the next day. Sauntering toward the counter, he shoved his hands in his pockets and made a show of looking at the menu posted above my head. I held my breath as he weighed his options. This was the moment of truth.
“This feels like a cinnamon roll kind of day,” he said finally, leveling his gaze on me. I gulped as I tried to clamp down the emotion welling in my chest. “I haven’t tried them yet. I wish I had because they look delicious.” I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him. Remorse filled his eyes as he studied me. This order felt like an apology. He’d thrown my cinnamon rolls in the dumpster, not even bothering to take them to Murphy’s like he had the previous treats. That was what had pushed me over the edge. I’d confronted him that night at the garage. It was the moment everything had changed.
This time when he paid his bill, he lingered. His mouth opened and closed as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. He shook his head and muttered his thanks before walking out the door. I sagged against the counter and buried my head in my hands. What was this man doing to me?