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“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 oceaneyes.
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—”
