2. Ron
TWO
RON
I sat in my truck, dressed in my uniform, ready for the day.
I shouldn’t be there. I knew that.
I should have stayed at the gym and done more reps on my arms or legs, maybe until I didn’t feel them.
Anything but sitting in front of a bakery I had no business being at.
Not when sweet treats were my kryptonite and the woman who was responsible for making them was worse than that.
For the first time in over a decade, a woman called my attention for longer than a passing moment.
It happened by accident and left me reeling.
For the first two weeks after picking up the cake for Logan’s engagement party, whenever I’d showed up, Evelyn was all smiles and conversation.
But I was too serious and nervous. Now she didn’t smile if she came out to help me.
The last two days, she’d stayed in the back and one of her employees had served me.
I shouldn’t have been there, but I was.
Freshly showered after cutting my workout short, I opened the driver’s door to my truck and begrudgingly got out. My lips suddenly dry and the palms of my hands sweaty, I shoved them into my pockets as my legs closed the distance between where I’d been and where I was dying to be.
When I pushed the door open with one hand, the bell overhead chimed as the warm white walls seemed to draw and welcome you in just around the time the warm scent of vanilla and sugar and spices filled your lungs.
I had no idea if the smell was simply coming from the goodies behind the counter or if there was some kind of scent infuser inside the building.
But if there was, I wanted one for my place.
Maybe if I have something that smells this way, I can avoid coming here what feels like almost every damn morning for the last two weeks?
“I’ll be right with you,” a soft familiar feminine voice called from the back. My heart rate picked up speed.
Not two minutes later, the double doors that separated the kitchen from the main space of the bakery swung open, and there she was. No matter how much I tried to prepare myself, I was never ready for the beautiful sight she made.
Evelyn Rojas was one of the most beautiful women I had ever laid eyes on.
Short, maybe five feet tall, with long silky dark hair that passed the middle of her back, killer curves, and big, wide eyes you thought were brown, but the closer you got, you realized they were almost caramel in shade with soft swirls of gold in them.
Her lips were what women all over the country tried to get with fillers and shit, but Evelyn’s were all natural.
Plump and full in the prettiest deep shade of a deep pink.
“Hey, it’s you,” she said with a tight smile, and I hated it.
I wanted to ask if everything was okay. Maybe tell her a joke all just to see her smile genuinely like she had been. She set the tray of what I could only assume were freshly baked Danishes down. My stomach threatened to growl. I should have eaten something before coming here.
“Hi,” I muttered, unable to look away from her.
“Let me put these away really fast, and I will be right with you.” Her dulcet voice felt like a balm over my soul. And like every fucking morning I came here, my brain went berserk, trying to come up with something to say. Something witty. Funny. But fuck me, like every day, nothing came to mind.
But unlike all the other days, this morning, she was quiet. She didn’t try to make small talk or chat me up. My brows bunched together.
“Okay, what can I get you?” she asked, her pretty, dark eyes barely connecting with mine.
“I, umm…” I scratched the back of my neck. “What’s your favorite?” I asked, my tone a little rough
“What?” Her eyes rose up to meet mine with nothing but clear surprise. Jesus, had I been that big of a dick these last two and a half weeks? I cleared my throat and crossed my arms over my chest, not missing the way her gaze seemed to follow my movements.
“I just mean, umm… I’m thinking of trying something new. What’s your favorite?”
“Oh.” She licked her lips. “My strawberry shortcake cupcake is one of my bestsellers.”
“No, your favorite.”
“Mine?” she squeaked.
“Yeah.” My face softened as I leaned closer to the counter. “Or is that a secret?” I asked, trying to flirt and probably failing. What the fuck is wrong with me?!
I was probably giving her major creep vibes. I was charismatic when it didn’t matter. In the past, I hadn’t had any trouble with the ladies. Especially ones I wasn’t actually interested in. But no one had caught my attention like Evelyn since Sara.
“You really want to know my favorite?” she asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. I nodded because I couldn’t trust myself to speak. I want to know your favorite everything.
She leaned closer, her eyes bright and happy. Fuck, there was something about Evelyn that was so damn addicting, so damn alluring, it made me helpless to fall for her.
“Here.” She grabbed a wax paper, opened the display, and reached in, pulling out a delicious-looking eclair.
When she started to hand it to me, for some goddamn reason, I froze.
Her little hand was out there, distended towards me, and all I could think about was whether or not my hand was sweaty. Shit! When did this become this hard?
“Take it,” she offered gently, her big brown eyes staring up at me. From this angle, I could see just how small she was compared to me. I doubted she reached my shoulders if I was standing right next to her.
“It won’t bite. I promise. I didn’t put teeth in this batch.
” She winked, and something about it made me take the treat from her hands.
The tips of our fingers touched only for a split second, but I felt a jolt of electricity sweeping through me.
Her eyes locked with mine, and I could have sworn she felt it as well.
“Thanks,” I rumbled, accepting the eclair.
It wasn’t far from me, but my mouth watered from how good it smelled.
Vanilla cream and chocolate filled my lungs.
I could feel her eyes on me as I brought the pastry up to my lips and took a bite.
My eyes fluttered shut, and a deep almost animal-like sound escaped from me.
“Fuck,” I cursed, unable to stop the word from slipping past my lips.
“This is good.” I could see why it was her favorite.
I took another bite, and another, and before I knew it, I had all but inhaled it in front of her.
“Shit,” I mumbled, wiping the crumbs off my lips.
“I devoured that like an animal. I’m sorry,” I apologized.
“That was the best thing I’ve tasted here…
so far.” There was no denying the double entendre to my words.
Our eyes connected across the counter. She was blushing and pressed her lips together. “I’m glad you enjoyed that,” she said a little breathily.
“I did.” My voice rumbled. I took a deep breath and shook my head. Focus, Ron! I yelled at myself. “Umm, how about a dozen of those and a dozen donuts,” I said, putting in my order.
“Are you back on shift?” she asked, and I grunted.
My tongue felt too wide in my suddenly bone-dry mouth.
I should just ask for her number. Call or text, and sure enough, with time, something would turn me off about her.
“Do you guys do twelves or twenty fours?” she asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. I ran my tongue over my teeth.
“Both,” I answered.
“And you work…” Holy fuck, she was making small talk with me.
“Twelves,” I answered and winced. I was just giving her one-word answers and probably fucking up any chance of her giving me her number or agreeing to have dinner with me. “I used to do twenty-fours.”
“Yeah?” Her eyes widened, obviously surprised that I’d willingly shared.
“I liked it, but at my age, I like twelves more.” Who the fuck was I kidding? I was looking at slowing down even further and trying to talk myself into applying for one of the supervisor shifts that for the most part were in the office.
“Your age?” She smiled. “You make it sound like you’re ancient.”
“I’m getting up there.” I grinned and liked the way she looked at me.
“I don’t know. You look pretty young to me.” Is that a simple observation, or is she flirting with me?
“How old do you think I am?” I laughed as she pretended to think.
“Hmm….” Her hands lifted to her face, and her pointer finger tapped against lips I wanted to taste more than my next breath. Her eyes grazed over my body with a very appreciative glance. “Mid- to late thirties.”
“You’re good for my ego, beautiful.” The term of endearment slipped past my lips, but fuck, I wasn’t going to take it back. “I’m forty.”
“Still young.” She shrugged, leaning against the counter, and I found myself doing the same.
“You think?” I asked. “I’m not too old?”
“Not for me,” she flirted, then immediately blushed. “I mean… not, like, for me. I just mean, I don’t think forty is old at all.” She stumbled over her words in the most adorable way. “I’m thirty-two,” she shared, and my brows bunched.
“No, you’re not,” I argued, and the sound of her laughter filled me in the most unexpected way.
“Yeah, I am.” She giggled. Her dark eyes were almost glittering in my direction. “How old did you think I was?”
“I don’t know, honestly. I just knew you were younger than me.”
“Only by eight years, Ron.” She leaned closer.
My eyes skated down the line of her neck.
Fuck, I was in trouble. My eyes connected with hers, and the way she was looking at me was making it hard for me to remember why the hell I’d told myself to take my time.
Ask for her number, dumbass! Fuck it, ask her to dinner! a voice in my head shouted.
“Hey, Evelyn,” I started to say, my voice hoarse in my ears as my heartrate picked up speed.
How long had it been since I’d asked for a woman’s number? Since I’d wanted to take her to dinner? Get to know her in a way I knew I never wanted to stop learning about her?
Not since Sara. The reminder made me hesitate, and it was like she could feel it.
“Yes, Ron?” she asked, leaning in closer. So close, I could smell her perfume and hints of her shampoo. It was a mix of vanilla, apples, and cinnamon. All I wanted was to kiss her neck and see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.
“I was wondering…” Just then, the bell over the door chimed, and we both looked towards it. Three ladies walked in one with a stroller, talking and laughing, and I knew my chance to get her number today had slipped through my fingers.
Tomorrow. It will have to wait. Tomorrow is a new day, I reminded myself.
“I’m sorry,” she said, quiet enough for my ears only.
I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but I could have sworn I felt her disappointment.
Our time for this morning had come to an end.
I had to get to work anyhow, but fuck if I didn’t want to leave.
Saying bye to her was getting harder and harder to do. “I have to––“
“Oh yeah, I get it. Uh, here.” I took my wallet out and handed her a couple of twenties to cover my order.
“Oh! Umm, this is too much!” she exclaimed. I could feel her customers watching us now.
“Tip.” I winked as she handed me the two boxes of goodies. “Thanks for this,” I called out and looked at the ladies. “Best treats in town! You guys are going to love it.” I grinned and walked out.
I put the boxes on my passenger side, and when I shut the door, I looked back at the shop. Everything inside of me was shouting at me to go back in there and ask her out. It didn’t feel right leaving without at least her number, some kind of way to chat with her throughout the day.
You have time, a little voice in my head whispered.
Time.
Time was something that always felt like a luxury we didn’t have enough of yet wasted like we had countless amounts. I shook my head and forced myself to get into my truck and head to work. I’d get her number tomorrow.
It would only be a couple of hours later that I would be reminded of a very important lesson.
Never leave what you can do today for later.