Page 28

Jesus, her and that fucking song.

If I had to hear that fucker whine about setting the bed on fire one more time, I might actually shoot myself.

Seriously. There was only so much of that shit a man could take.

Then when I knew she was laying in bed at night, I could hear her laughing at something on The Big Bang Theory, or I could hear her baby talking that monster of a dog of hers.

Everything she did—every word she said—I pictured the little girl who should have been protected.

“Son of a bitch,” I growled.

I was losing my fucking mind.

Throwing off the sheet, I got out of bed and went straight to my dresser.

It was my turn to watch her today, which I was pretty sure was going to be fucking torture.

Not in the same way it had been.

“Head in the game, asshole.”

Shaking off the thoughts I shouldn’t be having, I pulled on a black Harley tee, yanked my jeans up my legs and buttoned the fly. Then I attached the chain of my wallet to my belt loop and stepped into my boots.

“Hope she’s got some coffee,” I sighed, stepping out my door and jogging down the steps to the bakery door.

Twisting the knob, it was locked, so I raised my hand and knocked.

Nothing.

Through the steel door I could hear Big Momma kneading the dough. I could also hear Britney fucking Spears.

I knocked harder, and the music cut off. A second later the lock turned, and Joy was pulling the door open with a piping bag in her hand, flour on her cheek, and her hair piled on top of her head in an adorable yet crooked messy knot.

Her brows snapped together. “Uh…” She blinked. “Did something happen?”

“The door was locked.”

She looked at the door like she was trying to figure out what the hell I was talking about, then shook her head. Again, the messy bun bobbing from the movement was cute as hell. “It’s four in the morning,” she finally said.

I didn’t have a reply for that. I mean, of course the fuckin’ door had been locked. Her brother had security everywhere since the Irish got to town, so it only made sense that she was being cautious and locking the damn door.

I arched a brow. “I’m on you today.”

“This is getting ridiculous,” she sighed, moving aside to let me in.

As she went back to her workstation, I gazed around the kitchen. It was the first time I’d been back there, preferring to sit out front away from where Joy was.

Did that make me an asshole? Yes. Now that I knew more about Joy it one-thousand percent did.

I almost felt like I needed to atone for my fuck up.

Unsure how I’d ever be able to do that, I pulled a stool out from the end of the steel table and sat.

Yep. It was awkward.

So awkward that Joy stared at me for a long moment before shaking her head, turning her god awful music back on, then getting back to work.

Granted, seeing as there were trays and trays of donuts on the cooling rack and Big Momma was still churning out dough, I was guessing she really didn’t have a choice in the matter.