Chapter 15
Juniper
At least he’s playing nice, despite the way he glares around the room like he has X ray vision looking through the walls, searching for the slightest reason to back out.
I get two coffees going and lean back on the counter as I look at him. He’s wearing a navy blue suit that brings out his tan and the blue depth of his
eyes.
Those sharp eyes fall on me with a calculating intent I’m not expecting.
For a second, I wish I wasn’t still slumming around in an apron with my hair going wild, without a bit of makeup on my face. I wish the summer humidity wasn’t more than a match for our clanking A/C that’s also overdue for a tune–up.
In another life, I wish I wasn’t here, and I was going out for a date after work with a man who looks like Mr. Rory but who knows how to smile.
He’s used to dealing with a very different kind of professional, no doubt. Definitely not the kind who daydreams.
Okay, deep breath. You can do this.
“Cupcake?” I offer. “On the house.”
His eyes flash to the few items still on display and he wrinkles his nose. “Thanks, but I’m not one for sweets,” he says in that deep rolling voice
of his.
“Oh, right. You’re hoping the next president starts a war on cookies.” I can’t resist the wisecrack, so I don’t snort.
Not one for sweets is one hell of a way to describe his outburst the other day, when he told me he thought sugar should be illegal.
But since he’s here I should hear him out, so I check my inner sarcastic bitch and bite my tongue until it hurts.
“Frankly, Miss Winkley, my tastes don’t matter. I’ve seen what a hit your creations are,” he adds, resting his elbows on the table. “You’ll be glad to know my associate was an instant fan.”
“Oh, great. What a relief. I was actually worried something went wrong when I saw you here again.” I grab the drinks and walk to the table with a cupcake for myself. He might not want one, but that doesn’t mean I’m going without. “We don’t get many complaints, but there’s always a chance.”
And if anyone was likely to complain, it would be you, I want to add.
“Not a single objection.” He gives me another one of those intimidating pinned–on smiles.
“Okay, well…” I gesture widely at the empty store. “You have my full attention.”
Disconcertingly, he looks up from his coffee and stares at me. This is probably the closest we’ve ever been.
I regret not leaving more space between us. I’m pretty sure his cheekbones could cut glass.
And damn, have I mentioned his eyes?
Up close, they’re even more spectacular, which is way more annoying. Eyes so beautiful shouldn’t belong to a jerk like him.
They definitely shouldn’t remind me of the way the sun glints on the open sea.
“Did you know I’m local?” he asks. That is a surprise.
“You mean you’re from here?” I frown, sipping my coffee to hide my confusion.
Not that I should be shocked. We wouldn’t exactly have moved in the same circles and it’s a big city.
“Kansas City, born and raised,” he tells me. There’s a touch of pride in his voice. “I formed a company with my brothers a few years ago–Higher Ends International. It’s a fast–growing start–up delivering five–star rental experiences to folks from all over the country.”
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Love Betrayed: A Journey of Separate Patas
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Chapter 15
“Oh, you’re one of those,” It’s out before I can clamp my mouth shut. “Those?”
My face heats.
“I mean…. aren’t a lot of investors buying up properties the reason why nobody my age can get a house? Sorry if I’m confused.” I might as well be honest, voicing what feels like my wildest dream.
Plus, the fact that he’s one of many reasons it’s never coming true,
“Miss Winkley, you are confused. Higher Ends isn’t some fly by night crew of jackoffs sweeping up as many duplexes as they can get on credit, all so they can brag about smoke and mirrors success on TikTok,” he says with a dismissive snort. “We’re incredibly selective. We only acquire properties that offer a truly rich, immersive experience true to the area for a high end clientele that pays dearly. When I said fast growing, I meant in the unique
niche we’ve carved out.”
Right. It’s so fast growing I haven’t heard of it and I’m also from here, I stare at him.
And even if he isn’t one of the cutthroats creating a housing shortage, I’m not sure I feel much better when I picture the sort of clients he’s looking for. Rich people with money to burn who don’t work in a bakery, fighting to make ends meet.
“You’re skeptical,” he grumbles. “I prefer careful.”
He snorts again.
My eyes narrow as I sip my coffee, fighting the urge to spray it in his smug face.
“There’s no danger to you, only an upside. My offer is simple,” he says. “I’m inviting you aboard for an experiment. The Sugar Bowl is perfectly suited to take part in our new pilot program. It’s designed to supply fresh pastries and whatever else our guests might want for a few of our properties.”
Ugh.
Regular business.
Why does he have to make this so hard?
“Also,” he says with a little more warmth, “if that pilot goes well, we’re considering making larger items available–things like custom cakes for special -occasions. Our guests just order and you deliver to our star properties. Not complicated.”
My gut clenches.
Something about the way he says star properties makes me uneasy. It’s gone straight from tempting to too good to be true.
Also, there’s something horribly distracting about his flickering blue eyes tonight. I kind of miss the scowl and constant growling.
At least then I could forget how attractive he is when he’s being nice.
“I’ll admit it sounds interesting,” I say slowly, pulling at my cupcake and leaving crumbs on my plate. Bad habit, but I can’t help my nerves, especially when it feels like this is playing with a house of cards and one wrong move will send everything crashing down.
“But?” he urges.
“But why the sudden interest?”
His face closes off again, the warmth retreating behind a stoic mask.
“And, um, what do you want in return? I know how these things work. There has to be a catch in there somewhere.” There’s no sense in pulling any punches.
“Well.” He clears his throat. “There is something else.”
Of course.
“I knew it.”
He inhales slowly, glancing around like he’s trying to keep his lungs working.
Fair enough. I’m having trouble breathing, too. Because here it comes.
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Chapter 15
The whole reason why you don’t make deals with atrociously hot men who tip like they should be institutionalized,
And judging by his face, it’s a really flipping big reason.
I take another gulp of my cooling coffee. I reckon I’ll need the caffeine hit to get me through this. Or maybe I should just give up and fetch the whiskey stashed away in the back right now that I only break out for real emergencies.
“Nefore I start, let me promise you this is only temporary.” He places both hands on the table, palms down. “It’s a very stupid condition and it’s entirely my fault. The man who was with me the other day, he’s very difficult to win over. When I did, I gave him the wrong impression and it made things a tad complicated for our arrangement going forward.”
That’s all it takes to send my heart climbing up my throat. “You’re scaring toe, Mr. Rory,” I say.
I definitely mean it as he sighs and slowly fixes his gaze on me again. “I just need you to act like we’re engaged”
I squint at him, wondering if I heard that right. But he doesn’t correct himself.
What. The. Actual. Hell?
I push back from the table like he’s brandishing a knife.
See, I knew it.
This dude isn’t just your run of the mill rich, handsome jerk–he’s psycho.
He is actually insane, and if this is some kind of convoluted ploy to ask me out or take advantage of me–or… or
I’m out of ideas.
jikist
