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From a business standpoint, sure, it makes sense—but Haute’s strange smile looks more like he’s offering to lease her soul more than bully her into bed.
I don’t think he wantsher, necessarily.
It’s not the grin of a lecherous pig twice her age looking to indulge his lusts.
There must be something more.
What else could he want with her?
Or maybe there isn’t and my mule of a brain is just standing in her way because Forrest Haute rubs me like a bed of splinters.
“Oh. Oh, well…” Junie’s cheeks turn pink, then red. She glances up at me, shock and nervousness vying on her face.
But she’s tempted by the offer—and who can blame her?
There’s that telltale gleam of opportunity I recognize because I feel it too.
Hell, what harm can a jump in steady income do? Especially when it’s coming from places like this golf course, another hub for the rich and well connected.
I nod, and she turns back to Haute with a smile, accepting the champagne flute he offers her from the waiter.
Haute raises his glass in a toast while I order another neat whiskey.
We’ve won Haute over and that’s worth celebrating.
Whatever else he’s planning, he’s all charm now, putting one hand on Junie’s arm and telling her how delightful her peach puffs are.
It’s weird, yeah. Really fucking odd.
Still, he’s bought our illusion. I wonder if it’s just a show of good faith.
Maybe he just really, shamelessly admires sweets more than life itself.
Junie smiles up at me and I force a returning smile for her sake, even though the knot in my stomach makes me want to punch something.
Calm the hell down.
This should be good news, even if I can’t help feeling it’s more like a prison sentence.
I look at her with her red hair coiled up and a pretty blue dress hugging her curves. She bought that one with my money, and I stood back and let her.
I already want to rip it off her with my teeth the second I get the chance.
I’m in over my head, and I don’t just mean this deal with Haute.
Also, if the bakery keeps getting tangled in my business, how do we ever end this arrangement neatly?
I don’t know.
I don’t care.
The only thing I’m sure about right now is the glaring fact that I’m hellbent on keeping Junie as happy as she looks right now.
If anything ever wipes that smile off her face and I know it’s my fault, I’ll fucking die.
19
SWEET ANGST (JUNIPER)
