3. Sadie
Chapter 3
Sadie
“ C ome on, come on.” I stare at the tracker app, willing it to update again. Russell took the scenic route with his delivery tonight.
The sign in the window has already been flipped to closed, and I’m yawning. Making fresh donuts and pastries every morning for the hungry citizens of Courage means that my workday starts at three in the morning. Not that it matters. I don’t sleep much at night anyway.
Coco yips her displeasure. Like me, she wants to be upstairs with dinner already.
“Soon,” I promise both of us just as the truck finally rumbles into the alley behind my shop. I make sure that Coco is securely in her play area. I don’t want her running underfoot and getting hurt.
When I’m certain my fur baby is safe, I open the loading dock door, barely suppressing another yawn. It will take hours to unload and stock all of this inventory. I’ll be lucky to get more than an hour or two of sleep tonight. No doubt that was part of Russell’s intention by making this delivery so late.
As soon as he pulls the truck to a stop, he hops out and rounds it. He looks me up and down with his leering gaze. My skin crawls, but just like I have a dozen times before, I refuse to let him get to me.
“You want it in the back door tonight?” He asks with a waggle of his eyebrows, indicating he wanted to be disgusting. There’s a reason I didn’t go out with him when he asked. My rejection had nothing to do with the fact that his dad is my vendor like I told him it did. Nope, it was all Russell.
Before I can respond, Russell is on his ass on the ground between the two buildings. Blood gushes from his nose.
Barrett is looming over him, jaw clenched tightly. “What did you just say to my girl?”
Russell clutches his face and confirms my previous suspicions that he’s a few horses short of a farm because he opens his mouth, “Nothing. All I asked was whether she’d like it—”
Barrett lunges for Russell again who squeals and curls into a ball. His voice is muffled from the swelling that’s starting in his face. “What the hell is your problem?”
I call Barrett’s name even though I don’t know what to say. Warmth goes through me at the thought that he’s protecting me. Is this what it feels like to have someone care enough to defend you?
Barrett leans down, putting his face right next to Russell’s. I can’t help comparing the two of them. Barrett is so much bigger and beefier. He’s hairy and he looks like a beast looming next to Russell. “You’re the problem. You don’t talk to any woman that way, especially not mine. Now get out of here.”
Russell is sniveling now, underneath his eyes already turning violet. I think he might actually be scared of the big cowboy. “But the truck—”
“Will be returned tomorrow, tank full to your company. This is your last delivery here. I don’t care what you tell your boss. You don’t run this route ever again. Do you hear me?”
He makes a noise that could be a sniff or a whimper. It’s hard to tell.
Barrett helps him to his feet and walks him down the alley. There’s the sound of a vehicle door slamming then Barrett is storming back to me.
He scowls. “Are you hurt?”
“From just some words?” I roll my eyes to indicate what I think of that. Russell isn’t worth getting my feelings hurt over. He’s just some entitled jerk who thinks he has the right to harass me because I said no to him.
“Nobody gets to talk to you that way, and if they do, you tell me.” His shoulders are hunched, and his fists are clenched. Fury rolls off of him in waves, and even though what happened wasn’t my fault, I find myself wanting to soothe him.
“I’m fine.” I put my hand on his arm. I tell myself I do it to calm him, but I’m pretty sure I just really wanted to reach out and touch those corded muscles.
He searches my face for a long moment, trying to decide if I’m telling him the truth.
I nod toward the alleyway. “What did you do with him?”
“My brother, Noah, is driving him to the edge of town. Then he’ll make him walk the rest of the way back, so the shithead has a chance to think about all the ways he’s been harassing my girl.”
That’s the third time he’s referred to me as his tonight, and a secret thrill runs through me. I shouldn’t put any stock in what he’s saying. He’s crazy, and I have a delivery to get unloaded tonight.
He seems to read my mind because he asks, “Do you have any help with this?”
“Just me tonight,” I explain. If business keeps going at the rate it is, I’ll be able to hire a part-time employee to help by the end of the year. But for now, it’s just me.
“Tell me where everything goes.”
I’m a strong, independent woman who can unload the entire truck by herself. But I’m also tired and cranky. If he’s willing to help, I’m not going to tell him no. “Big boxes to the right. Medium and small to the left.”
We spend the next three hours working together, but it passes easily and quickly. We banter sometimes, and I learn things about Barrett. Things like he’s a hard worker who doesn’t complain. Things like he looks really good with sweat making his t-shirt cling to his body. When he uses the end of it to wipe his forehead, I catch a peek at his hairy stomach, and my body tingles all over as I imagine what it would look like beneath me as I rode him in my bed.
“All sorted. Which pile should we start unpacking?” He asks, interrupting my thoughts. He’s here doing the neighborly thing, and I’m thinking about what he’d feel like inside of me bare. I’m the worst person ever.
My cheeks flame even though he can’t possibly guess my thoughts. “Leave it. I’ll sort it during the lull tomorrow afternoon. Want a coffee or tea or…” I force myself to stop talking so I can’t invite him to my bed.
He barely suppresses a yawn of his own and grabs his Stetson. “No, I’m headed back to the farm. I’ll wait for you to lock up before I leave.”
I check all of the locks and make sure the store is secure before I turn to him. “Wait. How did you know Russell was giving me problems?”
His smile lights up his face, softening his features. “I was watching you from mom’s shop.”
I fake a gasp of mock outrage. “You were watching me? Some would consider that stalking.”
“It’s not stalking if you’re my future wife.” He winks and presses a kiss to my cheek. “See you later, sweet girl.”
He’s out the door and gone before I even get a chance to respond. Instead, I stand there in the inventory room with my hand pressed to the spot he just kissed.
“I think reading romance has turned me into…one of those people. Do you know if that can happen?” I ask Dotty quietly. We’re tucked away in the kitchen of the bakery. She’s nibbling on a second donut, and I’m sipping my second glass of wine.
“I don’t know what kind of people you mean,” she says.
In the lobby of the bakery, a round of loud laughter erupts. It’s book club night which means my shop is filled with women who love discussing their favorite books just as much as I do.
I take a deep breath and decide to blurt it out. If anyone is supposed to understand you in this world, it’s your best friend. “A sex addict. I think reading smutty romances has turned me into some kind of sex addict.”
She laughs so hard she snorts. “If that’s true, then murderers must read mysteries.”
“I’m serious! All I think about lately is s-e-x,” I confess miserably. It’s been three days since I met Barrett Maple. I’ve been ducking Linda, which I feel guilty about.
“Why are you spelling it?” She giggles again before she sobers. “OK, tell me this. Did your recent thoughts around s-e-x start after you met a certain cowboy?”
I guzzle the rest of my wine and confess, “I haven’t been able to get him out of my mind.”
More like, I haven’t been able to get his offer out of my mind. I’ve tried a couple of times to orgasm on my own, and everything works right. But I still feel hot and achy all over even after I manage to come.
“So, then work him out of your system,” Dotty suggests as she pops the last bite of her donut into her mouth.
I drum my fingers on the counter, considering her suggestion. He said something about a date, but I don’t see the need for that. We can just use each other to get what we want. Mutual, incredibly satisfying sex.
“I’ve never done…that,” I start, trying to decide how much to tell her. Dotty and I clicked instantly, but there’s still a lot she doesn’t know about me.
“Had a fling?” She dusts the sugar sprinkles from the hem of her shirt.
“Done anything with a guy.”
“Me neither,” she admits in a soft tone. She thinks for a moment then says, “Well, look. He’ll probably be so thrilled to see you naked that it won’t matter.”
“Maybe.” I chew on my bottom lip. In the books I read, the hero never cares if the heroine has had past experience. He just loves her. I’m not silly enough to think that Barrett loves me or anything. But will he care? Is this important to guys?
“He’s already made it clear he likes you, and I asked around.”
“You didn’t!” I bump her shoulder with mine. “You were asking about Barrett?”
“It was easy. I’m a journalist. We question everyone, and nobody thinks twice. Anyway, the vibe I get from around town is that he’s not a player. I couldn’t even find anyone who could recall him having a past girlfriend.”
“That could just mean he’s dated girls who are outside of town,” I point out. The thought sends a pang of white-hot anger through me. He’s mine—or at least, I want him to be. Just for a night or two.
“Call him and accept a date. Go out, kill a few minutes over dinner, then park .” She nods as if it’s settled.
“You’re right,” I agree. I’m single and young. Barrett is single and well, only older than me by a few years. “Any chance you’re driving by the Maple Farm tonight?”