Chapter Ten
Juniper
My whole body ached like a motherfucker. My palms were the worst. The skin had tightened around the deeper cuts where the gravel had bitten in, and the grit I’d missed in Inferno’s shower stung and throbbed.
Inferno was already awake. He sat on the edge of the bed with a first-aid kit open beside him, the contents laid out in a neat row on the nightstand like he was setting up for surgery. “Let me see,” he said, and I gave him my right hand without arguing.
He worked in silence as he cleaned the abrasions gently but thoroughly and applied antibiotic ointment and a bandage to both palms. Once done, he pulled back the covers.
“Knees,” he said, and I pulled the hem of his T-shirt up to my thighs.
He gave the scrapes on my knees the same gentle treatment as my palms.
When he finished, he closed the first-aid kit and set it on the floor. I flexed my bandaged hands, testing the give of the gauze. They hurt, but they were properly cleaned and tended now. The ointment had a numbing agent in it so the pain, while still there, lessened considerably.
“I’m not going to open the shop today,” I said. His posture relaxed somewhat, the relief obvious.
“Figured.” I got the feeling closing the bakery today hadn’t been a decision I needed to make because Inferno had likely made preparations. Probably had a sign on the door and every fucking thing.
I should have been angry, but I wasn’t. The anger had burned off somewhere in the long, dark hours of lying awake in his bed while he sat by the window, and what was left was a dull, heavy ache in my heart.
The shop was part of this now. Not just my grandmother’s legacy, but a battlefield I hadn’t chosen.
I had no idea why Brett had chosen this path for me, but I had to deal with the fallout.
My phone rang from somewhere in the tangle of sheets. I found it under the pillow, the screen showing a number I didn’t recognize. I almost let it go to voicemail, but something made me answer.
“Is this Juniper Renner?”
The voice on the other end was warm, professional, and practiced cheer I’d heard from Brett when he dealt with people around us.
“This is David Mercer with Mercer Commercial Properties. How are you today?” I said I was fine, because that’s what you say.
“Great, great. Listen, I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I’m calling on behalf of a client who’s expressed interest in your property.
The bakery building.” He paused, and I could hear the smile in his voice even as dread settled over me.
I felt like I was in a scene from a horror movie.
“They’ve asked me to present a cash offer so we can do a quick close.
” He quoted a price that was so low for the area, it was laughable.
“Now, I understand this might be below what you were hoping for,” he continued, without missing a beat, “but given the current market conditions and some of the challenges we’re hearing about in that corridor -- traffic patterns, and zoning questions, the usual -- sellers in your situation often do very well to move quickly.
Cash offers are rare in this climate, and the certainty of a quick close can be worth the discount.
” I went completely still, barely able to breathe.
This was the offer the guy had wanted me to accept. “Ms. Renner? Are you still with me?”
“I’m here.” My voice came out steady. Steadier than I felt. “Can I ask who the buyer is?”
“Of course. The offer is coming through Triad Holdings in Nashville. They’re an investment group based here in the city. Very reputable and straightforward. They’ve been acquiring properties in that corridor for the past eighteen months.”
Triad Holdings. I’d never heard of them. But Brett would have. Brett moved in those circles, knew every developer in the county. Brett, who had watched me build something he couldn’t control and decided the only way to own it was to take it out from under me.
“The answer’s no,” I said. “I’m not interested in selling.”
A pause filled the connection. Likely, this man thought the whole thing was a done deal. “I understand. If you’d like some time to consider --”
“No consideration needed.” I cut him off. “The place has sentimental value so even if I closed the shop, the answer would still be no.”
Another pause, shorter this time. “All right. I’ll let the client know. If you change your mind, my number’s on your caller ID. The offer stands for seventy-two hours.” He recovered his warmth, or a convincing imitation of it. “Have a good day, Ms. Renner.”
I set the phone down on the nightstand. My hands trembled, just slightly, and I curled them into loose fists to make it stop. Inferno watched me carefully but didn’t prompt me to talk to him.
I reached for the receipt on the nightstand for yesterday’s invoice from the supply shop and turned it over. With the pen from beside the first-aid kit, I wrote “Triad Holdings Nashville” and the broker’s number. I handed it to Inferno without looking at him.
“Will you ask Knight to look into this please?” I asked, softly.
He took the paper and tucked it into the pocket of his jeans. “You gonna tell me what’s going on?”
“I’m not selling,” I said. The words came out quieter than I meant them to, but they held. “Not to him. Not to anyone he sends.”
“Never thought you would, baby. I take it this is the offer you were expecting?”
I nodded. “After my grandmother died, everyone told me to sell. The lawyer. The accountant. My mother’s brother, who I hadn’t seen in five years, called to tell me I’d be smart to take the money and run. The building was worth more than I could make in a decade of baking.”
I stood and moved to the window. The compound yard was visible through the blinds.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t. Not because I’m stubborn, though I am, but because it was the only thing she left me that mattered.
Not the money. The place. The work.” I swallowed.
“Every time I come to work in the morning, as much as I’m not a morning person, I see my grandmother kneading dough and making pastries and cakes.
Some of my best childhood memories happened in the shop kitchen.
Brett knew that. He sat across from me at my kitchen table for six months and watched me get up at two-thirty every morning and come home covered in flour, and he knew exactly what that place meant to me.
He’d even urged me to keep it if I wanted.
He was the reason I had enough courage to try.
” A tear I hadn’t noticed slid down my cheek.
“I’ll get this to Knight,” he said. “By tonight, he’ll have something, I’m sure. If Brett has something to do with this, Knight will find the thread.”
“What happened to the man they caught?” I asked. “The one from the parking lot.”
Inferno looked at me. “He’s been handled.”
Could I live with not knowing the particulars? Yes. But part of me wanted to confirm my suspicions that the bastard was dead. I guess the only question was, could I handle it knowing Inferno had been the man to kill him?
“Did you do it?”
“Would it matter?”
I snorted. “Yeah, just asking myself that same fucking question.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Well?”
I studied him. Did I see a hint of vulnerability in his eyes? I couldn’t be sure. “I honestly don’t know. I would hope there would be more to it than because he attacked me, though.”
“There would be.” He shrugged. “You know. If that were the case.”
I felt myself smiling, despite the heavy conversation. “OK then.” I stood and moved to where Inferno sat on the edge of the mattress and stopped in front of him. I put my bandaged hands on either side of his face. His stubble was rough against my palms, the gauze catching on the bristle.
“I’m choosing this,” I said. “Us. I want us to be together, Inferno. I can’t do this by myself and I can’t imagine ever trusting anyone like I trust you.”
His hands came up to cover mine, careful around the bandages. His thumbs traced the edges of the gauze where it met my wrists, and the gentleness of it made my throat tight.
“I’m glad,” he said. “Because I chose you a long fucking time ago.”
The next second, I fell into Inferno’s arms. He found my lips and kissed me like he’d never let me go.
Which, honestly, I didn’t mind at all. His touch was close and measured, his mouth warm and gentle without the urgency or anger driving us before.
I stepped into him, sliding my hands from his face to the back of his neck, and I kissed him back just as eagerly as he kissed me.
I stepped back and pulled my shirt over my head, and his gaze drifted from my face down to my breasts.
He looked at me like he wanted to memorize the whole damned view.
Greedy. Possessive. Not a single ounce of shame about such an obvious claim, either, which just made me want to give him more.
I took off the rest of my clothes, baring everything.
Inferno’s mouth curved, slow and wicked as he pulled me close again for another lingering kiss. “Lie down,” he said against my hair. “Let me take care of you.”
I lay back on the bed. He stripped off his jeans and his boxers and came down beside me, his body a long line of heat along my side. He found my breast, his thumb circling my nipple with patience and reverence. I arched into his touch and a small whimper escaped me.
He took his time, moving from one breast to another. He slid his hand down my stomach to my pussy and found me wet and ready.
“Oh, Christ!” I thrust my hips at him, widening my thighs to give him better access. “Fuck!”
He worked me with skill and thoroughness that had nothing to do with urgency and everything to do with attention, two fingers inside, his thumb on my clit, the pace slow and relentless until I was shaking underneath him.
“Christ, Juniper. You’re fucking gorgeous. I’m going to eat your pussy, and you’re gonna come for me,” he murmured against my thigh.