Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“You look great.” Emmy brushes a stray flake of pastry from my cheek. “Go!”
Dexter stands by the register, wearing the same grumptacular expression he had the very first day I met him.
Back then, I was a little awestruck by his godlike good looks. The hair, the shoulders, the ocean eyes.
Oh God, the eyes.
Then he had to open his mouth.
Now I know there’s so much more to this man than a precision sculpted body and a personality like roadkill.
I know how those soulful eyes glow in the shadows on long nights and what the brush of his stubble feels like against my stomach as he trails hot kisses down my body.
I know there’s a scar on the back of his knuckle and a tattoo of war and that his smile could rival the most colorful sunrise.
I know how amazing he feels when he sheds that stylish grey suit that clings to him like a knight’s armor.
Sarah practically grabs me and marches me to the front of the store. “We’ll be—uh—somewhere else.”
My fingers are numb.
My tongue, stone.
I think I’m having another out-of-body experience.
Because even though he’s standing right in front of me with his arm wrapped in something like a cast, I don’t have a single thing to say.
Not one word.
“Junie.” He says my name with the same dark smile I’ve only ever seen him give me.
Not the practiced smile reserved for clients and staff and occasionally his brothers—but a warm, sweet smile that touches his eyes.
I’m so dead.
If I ever thought I wasn’t deliriously in love with this man, I was dead wrong. He still has my heart captive, bruises and all.
And I still don’t know what the heck to say to him.
There are no words for this sort of reunion.
What I want to say isn’t appropriate for a bakery bustling with staff and afternoon guests idling over their coffee.
“Give me a Catness cake pop,” he announces.
I stop and stare.
Then pure shock gives me my voice. “You want a—a Catness pop?”
Without thinking, I look at the display cabinet. It’s a fun new item we added just recently, forever immortalizing my furbaby in cake form.
The cake pops are especially popular with the summer crowd of kids and flirty young couples capping off their dates. Somehow, I think its popularity has less to do with the cute smiling tabby face and more with the unholy sugar load.
They’re a little rich, even for me. I’m surprised I don’t have another hit on my head to worry about, courtesy of every dentist and diabetes doctor in Kansas City.
“You heard me,” he says.
“…but they’re pretty intense. Maybe the sweetest thing we have. I could get you something more to your taste? Maybe a—”
“I know what I asked for, Sweet Stuff.” He meets my gaze. There’s so much warmth there, just for me, that my chest squeezes. “One cake pop. Please.”
For a stunned second, I just stare.
“I don’t understand,” I mutter as I pull it out of the case. “What have you done with Dexter? You look just like him.”
It’s jarring, the first time I’ve said his name out loud since the police visit, and it makes my heart squeeze again.
“Do you want it to go?” I ask.
“I’ll eat it here.”
I pop the cat-faced cake pop on a plate and ring it up. He swipes his credit card like a sword through the reader.
Then he shoves the entire cathead in his mouth.
Whole.
Oh, boy.
I think he’d have a better time with a piece of solid uranium.
He winces as he chews, the sugar overload no doubt scraping his tongue, scorching his throat on the way down.
But somehow, he forces a smile as he chews.
It’s the most absurd, stupefying thing I’ve ever seen, and I can’t help it—I laugh like crazy.
“What… what the hell are you doing?”
“Fair question.” He swallows and grabs the napkin, using it to wipe his mouth. “Shit, that was awful.”
“You were warned. You were never going to enjoy it.”
“Thanks for proving my point. There’s a lot a man can enjoy that isn’t always good for him. And a little sweetness never hurt anybody.” He glances at the staff crowding the door to the kitchen, sneaking looks at us while pretending they aren’t. “Step outside with me, Junie.”
I motion to Sarah to take the register and follow him.
Outside, the sun is shining, the traffic is light, and Dex leads me off the main street to the back alley, where the bins and the back door to the bakery are.
An empty wrapper blows past us, crinkling loudly in the wind.
“Wow,” I say, looking around. “This is so romantic. If you’re about to give me some spiel about the way we ended, can we not do it next to a dumpster?”
“I didn’t think you’d want this to be public.” He folds his arm defensively.
“Fine.” It’s a decent point, and even if we have garbage for a view, at least no one’s staring out the window at us. “Okay, talk,” I say, turning and looking up at him. “I’m here. You’ve got me. What do you want to say?”