Brooke
Chapter
Two
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me.
Dutton’s face just now was epic.
He looked so relieved that I walked to the door instead of pretending he wasn’t there.
As if I’d let him in here.
I kick him out during business hours; he can’t honestly think I’d let him in after hours.
No thank you.
I dance my way to the display case near the register and tell Alexa to turn the music up. Taylor Swift’s voice fills the bakery even louder, and I continue on with my cleaning.
This might be one of my favorite parts of the day, outside of the quiet and the smell of freshly baked goodies as I start most of my mornings.
A few years ago, I took over B’s Bakery from my best friend, Sadie. It used to belong to her mother, and after she passed away, Sadie ran the store. Then, after one crazy summer, I took over from her, and Sadie opened the bookstore next door.
My dream would be to actually buy the business and building from her, then expand by opening an online store where I can sell baking bundles with the recipes I come up with so that people can have a little taste of this place anywhere in the country, but as of right now, it’s not in the cards for me.
I just run the bakery for her. Sadie is so completely hands-off that most people think I already own it.
Not yet.
But someday soon, I hope.
As soon as I’m finished wiping down the tables in the café, I start to stack the chairs so that I can mop the floor.
A chorus line I love hits, and I sing at the top of my lungs as I push through the swinging door into the kitchen.
The form standing on the other side stops me. My hands fly to my face, and I let out a piercing scream, dropping the cleaning supplies in my hands and jumping back.
Then I register who it is.
“Damnit, Dutton, you can't just walk in through the back entrance whenever you want.”
“We need to talk.”
I cross my arms in front of me and cock my hip to the side.
“I thought I made it clear that I didn't want to talk to you, and technically, you just trespassed. You know that’s against the rules, right?”
He steps forward, and a mix of nutmeg and cedar surrounds me.
“We both know rules have never really been my thing, Brooke.”
The deep rich smoothness of his voice is like a warm breeze over my skin.
I pause, taking a moment to take him in as I think over my response.
I’m not surprised that he’s wearing a pair of navy dress slacks and one of those fitted crew neck shirts that hug his biceps and tapers at his waist. The sleeves are just long enough that the tattoos on his upper right arm barely peek out from the fabric.
I love looking at those as much as I love looking at the veins that sweep over his firm forearms.
I hate the way I love looking at this man.
At six foot three, Dutton is tall, built, and beautiful.
Through being his sister's best friend and running in the same circle for a while now, I’ve seen him at many kinds of functions—barbeques, birthdays, weddings, the beach— and can confidently say that under his business casual attire is a rock-solid body of a man.
One that could easily pick up my slim five-foot-six frame and have his way with me.
You know, the kind I read about in romance books, especially the darker ones I love to get lost in.
Dutton even has the whole lush, dark sandy blonde hair and dark emerald eyes thing going for him to bring that fantasy full circle.
I remember a time when his green eyes were brighter, but it’s been years since I’ve seen that kind of light in them.
Don’t get me wrong, a small-town romance always hits, but there is just something about a man who takes what he wants and doesn’t give a fuck how he has to get it.
The difference, red flags in real life actually mean something, and Dutton Richford is the biggest red flag I’ve ever met.
“Maybe you should have thought about that before you walked in here uninvited.”
With that, I turn back for the front of the bakery, giving us some much-needed distance.
“What the hell does that mean?” he asks, hot on my heels.
“It means that I didn't want to talk to you before, so I sure as hell don’t want to talk to you now.”
I pretend he isn’t just standing in the same room with me and go back to cleaning and dancing. I forgo the singing though. I might not care what this man thinks of me, but singing would only provide him with more ammo to tease me with, and we can’t have that.
“You are aware that I can see you, aren’t you?”
I look over my shoulder at him. His stance is commanding with his arms crossed, legs wide, head held high, and those deep eyes settled on my body.
“What? Am I aware that you can see me dancing?”
“Yes.”
The one word sounds a bit strangled.
I like it.
I bite my lip, turn to face him, and sit my ass on the nearest table. How far can I go with this?
Pushing Dutton’s patience is one of my favorite things to do.
“Do you like it?”
He doesn't respond.
“I could dance some more, just for you, if you need that to give me an answer.”
I swear I see his jaw tick, but he remains silent. I roll my eyes and sigh.
“Just say whatever you came here to say so that I can go on with my day without you in it.”
He nods.
“Glad you see it my way.”
Insert another eye roll from me and I return to the kitchen, head for the storage closet, and then pop back out with the mopping supplies.
“Any day now, Dutton.”
“Well, don’t walk off then.”
“Sorry. Just trying to run a business here and forgetting that time stands still when the mighty big bad wolf Dutton Richford walks in my door.”
“Funny.”
I smile. “I thought so.”
“I have a bride who wants you to bake her cake.”
“Great, have her call me.”
“I told her I'd take care of it.”
I let out a low whistle. “Bold move without talking to me first."
His head cocks to the side. “You help Grace and Gavin all the time. I’m no different.”
“Oh, but you are,” I say and move toward him. “I actually like them. You, not so much.”
He meets my step and is now towering over me.
“Surely, you can set aside your dislike for me long enough to be a businesswoman.”
It’s annoying that he has to be logical.
Instead of dragging this out, I say, “Just email me the date and what she wants, and I’ll see if I can make room for it.”
“Thank you,” he says with a winning grin.
I want to smack it right off his face.
“You can go now,” I tell him and nod to the door.
On a grunt, he leaves.
I watch him until he gets into his truck and pulls away.
I barely have time to process what just happened before my father walks in the door Dutton just left through.
He strides in and locks the door behind him.
“Was that Dutton?” he asks, standing tall in his sheriff's uniform.
I nod. “He has a bride who wants me to bake a cake.”
“Can't she reach out to you?”
Again, I nod. “You know Lovers Lodge, Dad. They make it their mission to handle everything to make it as seamless as possible for their guests. That includes coming to me for a request.”
“He could have sent Grace or Gavin.”
“You know all three of those kids put in equal effort.”
Dad shakes his head.
“I’m still baffled that his father put him in a management role for the lodge. After his past, I wouldn't be so generous.”
“It’s not like he killed anyone. He was a troubled teen who still graduated from high school despite the town rumors, and he even went to college and came back with a degree in business. He’s not a kid anymore.”
The fact that I’m defending Dutton to my father after the way he and I just interacted doesn't make sense, but whether I care for him or not, he did put in the work to better himself. My dad is just destined to hold a grudge forever.
And so am I, I guess. For the same reasons, but from a different view of them.
While my father doesn't like Dutton for his past of breaking the law, whether it be destroying property, breaking windows, stealing, fighting, or anything else a teen could do, leading to Dutton being the man my father has arrested the most by far in his life as the town sheriff, I don’t like Dutton because every single one of those arrests took my dad’s attention from me.
I won a medal in track, but Dad didn’t see it because Dutton broke into the high school science lab.
State finals for volleyball, Dad missed the last match because Dutton chose to do some shoplifting. The list goes on.
Sure, he’s not a kid anymore, but Dutton cannot be trusted.
Especially not by me.