3. Chapter 3
three
Sadie
Today’s look: a pair of denim overalls pulled over a pink peasant top that almost perfectly matched my hair.
Unintentional? Maybe.
Adorable? Always.
I had big plans today. Glitter epoxy floors, baby.
It was going to be the showstopper of the bakery.
Once that cured overnight, I could start hauling in my display cases, little retro café tables, and that one booth I rescued from a diner that had closed down.
The industrial ovens were scheduled for Friday.
If all went well, I could open by next week.
If.
I wasn’t sure I could pull it off alone.
But that was a problem for later.
For now, I was elbows-deep in dough, testing a new recipe idea: bacon cinnamon rolls. Sweet, salty, sticky, and possibly brilliant.
A savory-sweet treat that couldn’t be beat!
I grinned at my own internal jingle and peeked into the oven, bouncing slightly on my heels. The smell was heaven. The kind of scent that could even coax a smile out of Diesel.
Now if I could just land the perfect pun for the daily menu board…
Porkfect Rolls? No. Swine my eyes wandered as if pulled by a magnetic force. He was under the hood of some shiny muscle car, sleeves rolled, grease on his forearms, hair messy from his hat being shoved back. Grumpy as ever. Beautiful, broody man-shaped thundercloud.
“Delivery!” I called cheerfully, holding up the box like a prize.
Wrecker looked up from wiping down a bike and beamed. “Tell me those are for us.”
“Fresh out of the oven,” I said, stepping into the garage. “I need taste testers. I figured you all were brave enough.”
“What are they?” Skunk asked, peering into the box.
“Bacon cinnamon rolls with maple glaze. And love,” I added, tapping the lid before opening it with a dramatic flourish.
“Jesus,” Wrecker muttered. “Marry me.”
I giggled and blushed because he was a handsome guy. I could do worse.
Ghost just reached for one silently, took a bite, and nodded once. I think that meant I passed.
Skunk made a pleased noise I couldn’t describe without blushing.
And Diesel?
He didn’t even look up.
I tilted my head at him. “You’re not gonna try one?”
“I'm working.”
“Oh, come on. You can multitask. Eat and glower at the same time.”
He didn’t respond, but Wrecker was grinning so hard I thought his face might crack. He held a roll-out to Diesel like a peace offering.
After a long pause, Diesel finally took it. Took it, not thanked anyone for it. Of course not.
But when he took a bite?
His jaw flexed. He chewed slowly. Thoughtfully.
And then I saw it, the tiniest twitch of his mouth.
It wasn’t a smile.
But it was close.
Diesel
I waited until Amy had pulled Sadie into the office before I let myself demolish that damn cinnamon roll.
It was ridiculous. Warm, gooey, sweet with that hit of salty bacon. I hated how good it was.
“I’ll give you a week,” Wrecker said, tossing a rag over his shoulder. “If you don’t get your shit together and get that woman, I’m making a move. Gorgeous, and she cooks like that? I’d put a ring on it faster than you can say shotgun wedding.”
I rolled my eyes. Little fucking weasel.
“Yeah, like she’d want a scrawny fucker like you anyway,” I muttered.
He just laughed and went back to polishing chrome like he hadn’t just threatened my entire emotional stability.
She didn’t need someone like him. Wrecker once nearly lost a toe in a bar bet. I don’t even know how. Or why. And honestly, I’m afraid to ask.
Not that I had any clue what she needed.
Fuck.
I turned back to the car Nico brought in for his buddy Matt. The thing was a beauty—sleek, red, restored just enough to keep its soul. I’d love to take her out, windows down, open road, Ferris Bueller the hell out of it.
Anything to clear my head.
From the office, I heard Amy and Sadie laughing. Soft and easy. Like old friends. Or new ones who clicked immediately.
Then the door opened.
Sadie swayed past, bright and soft and sunshine-wrapped, her smile lighting up the whole damn garage like she didn’t even notice.
And just like that— She was gone again.
Like she hadn’t walked in here, hijacked my peace, handed out sunshine and frosting, and turned the whole goddamn place upside down with a smile.
I ran a hand over my face and leaned against the car hood.
That cinnamon roll had no business tasting that good.
Wrecker had no business saying what he did.
And I had no business caring.
But I did.
Because I’d noticed the smudge of flour on her jaw. The way she waved her hands when she talked, like her ideas needed room to breathe. The freckles across her nose, the way her hair bounced when she walked, that little hum she did under her breath when she was pleased with herself.
I noticed it all.
And that wasn’t good.
She wasn’t just cute. She was dangerous. The kind of woman who’d make you start thinking about things—home, laughter, someone to come home to—and I didn’t need that. Not again. Not ever.
I'd been there once.
And it left scars deeper than anything a wrench or a fight ever left me with.
So yeah, maybe I stared after her when she left.
One week, Wrecker said.
I wasn’t going to need a week.
I was already losing.