Chapter 18
Chapter Eightee n
I spun on my heels and crossed the room again so that I was face to face with him. Well, more like face to broad, muscled chest barely hidden beneath a tight t-shirt. Did this guy ever wear anything other than casual clothes? I looked up and met his eyes.
“I find it hard to believe that someone who has successfully opened many restaurants needs my help finding vendors. This binder is full of seafood and meat vendors. What is your real agenda?” I asked.
“I really do need the help,” he said.
“Stop bullshitting me. Do I look as gullible as my parents and every other person on this beach who sees a pseudo-celebrity and starts falling all over themselves?” I asked, pointing my finger into his chest and making him step backward. I continued advancing, pressing my finger into his muscles until his back was up against a wall and there was only an inch of space between us. “I am not interested in this endeavor beyond ho w quickly it will fold. You think you can show up here with your big business tactics that work for your chain restaurants in the big cities and somehow get this bakery off the ground. But it isn’t going to work.”
“Now I’m a pseudo-celebrity?” he asked with a lift of his eyebrows as I huffed out a frustrated sigh. “Is my bakery going to fail because you are going to sabotage it?”
“No. It’s going to fail because the skillset you have doesn’t work in small towns,” I said.
“I guess that's why I need your vendor list,” he said with a smirk.
I had walked right into that one. Damn it.
“Bullshit. These vendors aren’t going to mean shit without forming a relationship with them. Aside from your smarmy smirk, you have been a different person every time I have met you. You are either entirely void of personality, or you are absolutely chock full of shit. So which one is it?”
“Maybe it’s a little of both,” he said.
“See, there you go again. Gone is the arrogant know-it-all, or the sarcastic funny guy, or the charming celebrity, now all replaced with false humility,” I said.
“At last, I am a celebrity again,” he said.
“Ahh!” I shouted with a roll of my eyes ready to turn in a huff of anger.
“Are we ever going to talk about our kiss?” he asked, stopping me in my tracks.
My heart leaped into my throat, and I nearly choked on it as it beat frantically. I was under the impression that we had an unspoken agreement to never speak of that again now that we were bitter riv als, pitted in a battle for the beach bakery. What the hell was he doing bringing that up.
He looked down at me, eyes drilling into my skull, waiting for a response. We really were standing incredibly close. Too close. Why had I moved so close? I could feel the heat from his body and suddenly, my own skin felt like it was on fire with need. Had it really been that long since I had gotten laid that just being in close proximity to a handsome man made my brain melt? Or was there something about Jared?
I didn’t like cooks. They were arrogant know-it-alls who thought that I was pliable just because I had a people pleaser streak. Okay, maybe I was a little more pliable than I would like, but still. My general rule remained—stay far, far away from cooks. Jared was proving that rule right every time he opened his mouth. Still, I couldn’t stop picturing his full lips pressed against mine in that confident, forceful way that he had only two days ago.
“No,” I said. My voice came out in a whisper of breathlessness at the inappropriate thoughts trying to push past my rational rules.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I thought you were desperate for these vendors. If not, I am leaving, and you will be on your own,” I said.
He stared at me for what could have been ten seconds or an eternity before he finally turned and started walking toward the office. “Come on, you can show me in the office,” he said.
I felt a rush of regret at the absence of his body and the passing of the moment that could have turned into something else before I collected myself. As he walked away, I debated just leaving. He had started walking without any concern if I would follow or not. The move screamed of arrogance, and new, angry, defiant Jenna would never put up with that shit. Yet, my feet didn’t move toward the door. Instead, they dragged me, unwillingly, back to the office. I told myself that if I didn’t bring him the binders right then, I would have to come back, which I didn’t want to do. It definitely wasn’t because I was caving. Part of me also wondered if my mom would go so far as to demote me, or worse, fire me for not playing nice with Jared.
When I got into the office, he paused at the doorway before turning to look at me again. “Were you snooping around in here?” For the first time since I met him he sounded genuinely concerned, which triggered my suspicions about what exactly was on his computer.
“Of course not,” I said. My lying skills were not up to snuff for even the simplest deception.
He leveled his stare at me, and I felt my cheeks heat up, but I managed to hold his eye contact. With a sigh, he turned away and unfolded an extra chair, waving for me to sit before sitting in his own and quickly closing the laptop. “Have a seat,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said. When I sat, I realized that, once again, I was far too close to this man. How did this keep happening? More importantly, how did I make it stop? The close proximity made it hard to concentrate, which left me freshly angry. The problem was that I didn’t know if I was angry at myself or him or t he universe at large. Likely all three. I opened the binders in front of us and started flipping through the unorganized pages of invoices and handwritten notes with names and numbers on them, trying to find something that might be relevant to a bakery. I probably should have already put a list together for myself, but like most things, I hadn’t gotten that far.
“Like I said, most of this won’t be relevant to you.”
“So, when I ran into you here the other day … you weren’t missing this place?” he asked.
I leveled him with my best blank eyed stare. “You are very astute,” I said.
“If you wanted to open a bakery, why didn’t you?” he asked.
I let out an involuntary sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a derisive snort. “I understand that for people like you, buying a space, renovating, purchasing materials and all the other things that go into opening a bakery is like any other Tuesday. But for commoners like me, it’s a pretty big ask,” I said.
He nodded thoughtfully, choosing to ignore my scathing sarcasm. “I get it. I am not as out of touch as you assume.”
“You sure?”
“I hope so.”
“Here, this one might be helpful,” I said, turning a page in his direction, opting for professionalism.
“So why are you helping me if you have vowed to take me down?” he asked, not even bothering to glance at the page.
I sighed. “You think I want to be helping you? You are right, I should be plotting your downfall, but I don’t have a choice.”
“You don’t?”
Once again, I couldn’t help but look at him with all the disdain I felt clear on my face. He met my gaze with an expression that I couldn’t read. Maybe somewhere in there was his own annoyance for my endless, possibly misplaced anger, or maybe he didn’t give a shit either way. Maybe he came into my life like a whirlwind of disruption and confusion, but I was a blip on his radar like I was in the lives of all the men I met.
Jesus, that was a depressing thought. I had to stop letting my brain find its way down these insane, self-sabotaging pathways. At the same time my thoughts were kamikaze-ing toward self-destruction. I was painfully aware of his physical presence as he almost touched my arm. It didn’t help settle my thoughts or bring any clarity to the situation. It only made me think of his strong arms pulling me close into an unexpected kiss.
What the hell was that anyway? I thought for about the millionth time. Was he just killing time? Did he find some random girl to kiss at every new restaurant location?
“No, I don’t have a choice,” I finally said.
“Why not?”
“Once again, some of us live in the real world. I have a job that I am expected to do whether I like it or not. My mother may be my boss, but I’m not about to throw a temper tantrum because I have to share this binder with you. I’m sure that these vendors aren’t going to make or break the success of this pl ace. I’m even more sure that I can find other ways to bring you down. Even if I have to buy out a shop next door, turn it into a bakery, and run you out of business.”
He laughed, and I rolled my eyes. “You think you could do better business than me?”
I turned, my bare leg brushing against his in the process so I could look him dead in the eye. “Yes, I do,” I said.
“Then maybe we should test that theory,” he said.
“I don’t know how on earth we would do that,” I said. “You may or may not be aware that I don’t actually have a bakery.”
“That does provide a bit of a roadblock, but not one we can’t overcome. After all, I do have a bakery,” he said.
I glared at him.