37. Chapter 37
thirty-seven
Sadie
After finally getting Diesel out of my hair, I locked up and headed up to my apartment. I was worn out. I hadn’t felt this worn out since the week I moved in.
All this emotional stuff was apparently wearing on me. I got all comfy in my favorite pajamas and curled up on my comfy pink couch.
I woke up with the sun shining bright and someone knocking on my back door.
“What?” I looked at my phone for a time and saw it was almost nine.
I ran to my door to see Amy looking worried. “Are you ok?” She asked as she pushed into my place.
“Oh my god, I overslept.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “I fell asleep on the couch, and I must have slept through my alarm. I was exhausted last night.”
“Maybe you’re getting sick.” Her hand went to my forehead like a mom checking her kid for a fever.
“Maybe. Can you put a sign up on the bakery that says I will open at ten today?”
“Maybe you need to take the day off.”
I shook my head. “No way.”
Amy frowned like she didn’t like my answer, but she didn’t push.
“Fine. But if you keel over in the middle of frosting something, I’m dragging you home myself.”
I grinned, but it didn’t stick. The truth was, my body felt like I’d been carrying bags of flour up three flights of stairs for a week straight. Emotionally drained. The kind you can’t fix with coffee.
“Ten minutes to get dressed,” Amy ordered, already moving toward my kitchen like she was about to make me tea I didn’t ask for. “I’ll handle the sign.”
By the time she left, I was leaning against the doorframe, staring out at the alley. Sunlight hit the bricks in that way that made them glow like they’d been painted. And all I could think about was the way Diesel’s mouth had closed over my finger yesterday, warm and deliberate.
I swore under my breath.
This was exactly the kind of distraction I didn’t have time for.
Still, I had a feeling he’d be back before the day was over. And that was its own problem, because a part of me was already counting on it.
Diesel
I was elbows-deep in grease when Amy blew into the garage like a damn hurricane—empty-handed, which was a first.
“Fix it, Diesel,” she grumbled.
I straightened, wiping my hands on a rag. “Fix what?”
She marched straight into her office, so I followed.
“Sadie was still asleep when I went over to get our normal morning specials,” she said, arms crossed tight. “I had to knock on her back door to wake her up. She overslept.” Her eyes narrowed. “That is not our Sadie.”
I dragged a hand down my face. “I’m trying, Amy. Been trying for weeks. I don’t know what else to do.”
Amy rifled through her desk and shoved a folder at me. “Take these over.”
I glanced inside. It was the menu mock-ups. “Yeah, okay.”
Her stare was all steel. “Don’t just hand them off. Check on her. Make sure she’s… y’know, her.”
I turned to leave.
“And Diesel?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t back down.”
I nodded, tucking the folder under my arm. Truth was, I’d been itching for an excuse anyway. By the time I crossed the street, my boots were moving faster than I meant them to.
The bakery door was unlocked, warm air curling out—cinnamon, coffee, and something faintly sweet, pure Sadie.
She was behind the counter, hair in a messy knot, sleeves shoved to her elbows. Moving slower than usual, like she was running on fumes.
“Morning,” I said, leaning on the glass case.
She looked up, startled. “You’re early.”
I held up the folder. “Menu mock-ups. Amy’s orders.”
Her mouth curved, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“You okay?” I asked lightly, even though my chest was wound tight.
She hesitated, Sadie never hesitated, then shrugged. “Just tired.”
That was all she gave me, but it was enough to set every alarm bell ringing.
“When was the last time you ate? Took a rest?”
“I was off yesterday.”
“But you baked all day.”
“Well, yeah, but I like baking. Helps me focus.”
“Sadie.”
She looked up sharply at the way I said her name. I rounded the counter before she could dodge, my hands closing gently on her arms. Not rough, but enough to make her still. My first time touching her in weeks, and the current punched straight through me.
She went tense. “Diesel, what are you—”
I didn’t let her finish. I dipped my head and caught her mouth, slanting my lips against hers in a kiss that stole her breath and mine.
She softened, just for a second, and I took it like a man who was starving.
When I pulled back, her eyes were wet.
“I’m not waiting anymore, Sunshine,” I said, voice low and certain. “I told you I’m in this. You’re mine.”
The next words almost slipped out—I almost told her. But the L word would send her running, and that wasn’t the fight we needed right now.
“I’m worried about you.”
I turned and flipped the sign on the door to Closed.
“Write a note. Tell ’em you’re closed for the week.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but I just stood there, waiting. I didn’t have the authority, but I was damn well going to act like I did until she listened.