36. Chapter 36
thirty-six
Diesel
Icould see it in the small things as the weeks went on.
How she lingered a little longer each day as I took my first bite.
How she pretended to clean, but her eyes kept flicking over, waiting for my verdict.
Sadie wasn’t the kind of woman you corner. You didn’t win her over with a grand gesture or a single perfect line. She was all sharp edges wrapped around something warm, and if you came at her too fast, she’d just bolt.
But I was tired of waiting.
So I pushed. Just a little.
I hummed low in my throat as I took another forkful of lemon tart, letting my expression do most of the talking. “Damn,” I said, licking a bit of filling from the corner of my mouth, “you really outdid yourself on this one.”
Her shoulders stiffened like she knew exactly what I was doing.
“Stop making that noise,” she muttered.
“What noise?” I asked, feigning innocence. “The happy-eating noise?”
She shot me a look that should’ve iced me over, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her with the faintest twitch.
Good.
That meant I was getting somewhere.
The truth was, I wasn’t flirting for the hell of it. I just wanted her to know I wasn’t giving up. That no matter how many times she told herself she didn’t want this, I’d still be here. Same seat. Same time. Same stubborn patience.
And maybe one day, she’d let me stay for more than a slice of pie.
Sadie
“I’ve got a couple of different cakes I’m working on,” I said, reaching for the cooling rack. “Let me ice them, and you can try them out.”
Why was I making excuses for him to stay?
And why was my heart hammering as if I’d just run a mile?
I focused on the task with steady hands and even strokes of the spatula until two slices sat ready on the counter.
One was my spin on German chocolate: dark, rich, with just enough spice to tease the cocoa.
The other was my Grammy’s carrot cake. That one wasn’t just dessert; it was a family legacy. He'd better love it.
I walked over and held out a bite of the first cake between my fingers.
Diesel didn’t move.
So I stepped closer, the space between us shrinking until I could feel the heat coming off him.
He leaned in and took the bite, his mouth brushing my fingertips, eyes locked on mine the entire time.
I should have looked away. I didn’t.
The second bite, carrot cake, was no safer.
As I pulled my hand back, I instinctively went to lick the cream cheese frosting from my finger.
Before I could, his hand shot out, fingers curling around my wrist.
And then his mouth was on me, hot and deliberate. His tongue swept over my fingertip in a wicked, slow circle that made my pulse trip over itself.
My knees went weak.
I gripped the counter edge with my free hand, trying not to sway.
When he let go, there was the barest glint in his eyes.
“That one’s dangerous,” he said.
I couldn’t tell if he meant the cake… or him.
Diesel
When I finally left the bakery, there was only one thing on my mind. One place I wanted to go. An idea had been brewing since I had been fighting for my girl again.
The bell above the door jingled when I stepped inside, and the smell of antiseptic and ink hit me right in the gut. Wren’s place looked exactly like her—organized chaos: art everywhere, all color and movement and attitude.
She didn’t even look up when I came in, just kept working on the outline she was inking on some guy’s shoulder. “You’re early,” she said over the buzz of the machine.
I frowned. “Didn’t make an appointment.”
“Didn’t have to.” She switched off the machine, wiped the guy down, and gave him a grin that made him blush like a kid. “Give that an hour, then wash it with the soap I gave you. Don’t pick it.”
When the guy left, she finally turned toward me, one brow raised. “You only show up when you’re fixing something or breaking it. Which is it today?”
When the door shut, I pulled the photo from my jacket pocket and handed it over. The edges were creased from being folded too many times.
Sadie sat on the counter in her shop, laughing at something I’d said—head tipped back, eyes bright, sugar dust on her cheek. The kind of moment you don’t plan, you just catch and can’t let go of.
Wren’s smile faded when she saw it. “You took this?”
I nodded once.
“She’s beautiful,” she said softly, turning the photo over, then back again. “You want me to ink this?”
“Yeah.”
“On you.”
“Yeah.”
Wren tilted her head, studying me. “That’s not exactly your usual skull-and-piston aesthetic.”
“Didn’t ask for your opinion.”
That got a grin out of her. “Right. You’re the customer, I’m just the magician.” She gestured toward the chair. “Let’s make cupcake girl immortal.”
I sat down and stripped off my shirt. The machine buzzed to life, steady and sharp.
When the needle hit skin, I didn’t flinch. Pain’s easy. It’s the quiet that gets you. The space where you start thinking about all the things you’ll never say out loud.
After a while, Wren broke the silence. “Does she make you happy?”
I didn’t answer.
“She looks like she does.”
Still nothing.
“Fine,” she muttered, focusing on her work. “Don’t talk. But maybe stop pretending you’re not already halfway gone for her.”
I stayed quiet because she wasn’t wrong.
When she finally leaned back, I looked down at my arm. Sadie. Captured mid-laugh, eyes crinkled, hair loose around her face. The happiest moment I’d ever seen was frozen in ink.
Wren wiped my skin clean, studying the work. “She’s gorgeous,” she said. “Whoever she is, she’s gonna wreck you.”
“Already has,” I said, pulling my shirt back on.
Wren’s grin was half-tease, half-respect. “Damn. Guess you really are human after all.”