Chapter 2
Sullivan
It’s early. Too fucking early to answer my phone. Which, if I hadn’t approved my property manager’s time off and offered to cover for her rather than having someone else fill in, I wouldn’t have to.
If not for this overhyped day of commercialized love that apparently is an entire fucking weekend this year, Jane would’ve intercepted the call from Lila Hamilton.
Instead, my property manager’s spending the two nights and three days at some romantic beach resort with her fiancé with her phone turned off while I have to face the woman I planned to indefinitely avoid.
Next time, I’m putting aside my stubbornness and allowing Jane to find someone to fill in—anyone else.
“This better be important,” I grumble.
“Do you answer your phone like this all the time?” Lila says, her sunshiny voice stirring feelings inside me I swore to keep buried for good. It’s pathetic how one fucking night of no-strings-attached fun has turned my world upside down.
That’s what I get for picking up a woman at a bar and thinking it would simply scratch an itch.
In my defense, I was never supposed to see her again after the sun came up.
With the way she talked about traveling the country, I expected her to be fifty miles down the road when I ventured into town to meet my newest tenant the next morning.
Instead, Lila was standing outside my building, waiting for the keys.
“Is this an emergency?” I press.
“I thought you were a morning person. Did you run out of coffee, Sull?”
My dick twitches at the way she shortens my name, as though she’s always called me that. It makes no fucking sense. We haven’t talked since she signed the lease. “I’m on my first cup,” I grumble.
“Ah, that explains it. Well, can you put that in a to-go cup and get over here? I need you.”
“I thought we agreed to one night—”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she says flatly.
I hate that my chest tightens at the flippant way she dismisses my misunderstanding.
Seems as though I’m the only idiot who went and fell right into some fucking feelings after that passionate night we spent together—a secret I will take to my damn grave.
The last thing I need in my life is a complication of the female variety.
“It’s Valentine’s Day,” she continues. “One of the busiest days of the year for a bakery like mine in case you didn’t know. And I have an issue that needs immediate addressing so I can get back to work and keep my business from going under before it even officially lifts off the ground.”
“What’s going on?” I ask, imagining a leaky pipe under the kitchen sink or an unresponsive outlet. I’m certain it can’t be as dramatic as she makes it sound.
“Someone broke into my bakery.”
Fuck me. I yank on my boots and grab my keys from the hook beside the kitchen door, ignoring the way my chest twists and tightens.
“Are you hurt?” I demand.
“Ahhh, I knew you had a heart in there somewhere, beneath all those layers of ice,” Lila coos as a notification beeps on my phone. I ignore it. “No, I’m not hurt. But this poor guy is going to have one helluva headache when he wakes up.”
I toss my coat into the passenger seat, crank the ignition, and hit the gas.
“You fought him?”
“Never had the chance, actually.”
I don’t follow what she’s saying, but that doesn’t stop me from gunning it toward town. Let Chief Walker try to pull me over for speeding. I’m not above telling him where to shove his ticket. But the thought does bring up another question.
“Why haven’t you called the police?”
“I can’t.” There’s something strangled in her tone. A hint of desperation I’m certain she doesn’t want me to hear.
“Lila?”
“I need a favor.”
“This doesn’t count?” I bark back as the lights of a sleepy town come into view. I’m three minutes away. Four tops.
“You’re my landlord,” she retorts. “Doing your job isn’t exactly a favor.”
This woman is maddening. Another reason I vowed to keep my distance from her. I can’t ever seem to decide if I want to get the hell away or push her up against the wall to steal one of those intoxicating kisses. She’s the kind of woman who could too easily worm her way into my head and scramble it.
Lila Hamilton is a temptation best avoided at all costs.
“Spit it out,” I insist.
“I need you to keep this quiet.”
“You want me not to tell anyone that someone broke into your bakery?” I must be misunderstanding what she’s saying. Because whoever the creep is that’s likely unconscious with a goose egg on his head is not getting off scot-free.
“Exactly.”
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. “I’m not agreeing to that.”
“You have to, or my business is doomed,” she pleads. I can’t tell if she’s being dramatic or if there’s a hint of defeat in that tone. “I can’t have anything else go wrong today, Sull. This is a make-it-or-break-it kind of day for me.”
“This is what I can’t stand Valentine’s Day,” I mutter, slowing as I reach the city limits and heading straight for downtown. “You women put all this pressure on a single day. How’s a man supposed to stand a chance?”
“Despite my incessant curiosity about what woman turned you off of the most romantic holiday of the year, I don’t have the bandwidth for that story right now. Which is really disappointing, because I bet it’s a doozy.”
“It’s not—”
“Ah!” she squeak-screams.
“Lila?”
“Are you almost here? Say you’re almost here.”
“Pulling in now.” I end the call, parking in the alley behind the bakery. I grab my baseball bat from the back of my truck and charge through the back door.