Reading Online Novel

Filthy (A Bad Boy Romance)(36)



My body gets hot just looking at him. I remember the way it felt to let him hold me when we were dancing last night. He’d held me so close I could feel him getting hot for me. But even with that big erection giving him trouble in his pants, he’d stayed the gentleman. Mostly. Well, he didn’t try to rub off on me, which frankly is more than I expect from most of the guys who were there last night.

He gives the woman a nod as she moves past him, and then lets the door fall shut. Looking up, he meets my gaze and smiles.

“Hi,” I say. “May I help you?”

Mandy gives me an odd look. She’s probably figured out that I know this guy, or recognize him at the very least. I’m suddenly self-conscious and wonder if he likes the way I look in my everyday clothes. He obviously liked the way I looked in my eveningwear, but this is a whole different me. I’ve got my hair in a ponytail, and I’ve got on jeans and a T-shirt—stuff that won’t end up ruined when it gets flour all over it, as it inevitably will. The only thing I’m missing is my apron, and that’s just because I haven’t quite managed to put it on yet.

“I need some pastries. Maybe some rolls?” he says.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place. We specialize in pastries and rolls.”

“I figured you did.”

I tilt my head, giving him a look that’s far more flirtatious than I normally dare with anyone. “What clued you in?”

“The sign above the door. It says BAKERY.” He grins and moves closer to the counter. “So…baked goods, right?”

“Absolutely.”

Mandy moves back away from the cash register. Catching the movement out of the corner of my eye, I turn my attention to her for a few seconds. “Why don’t head on home, hon? I know you’ve been here all day without any help.”

“Okay, sure.” She smiles at me, then at Nick, then takes off her red apron and heads out the door.

“Poor thing. She’s probably starving,” I comment, watching her go.

When I look back toward Nick, his grin has turned to a slight frown. “Don’t you have anybody else to help her out?”

I shake my head. “No. We can’t really afford to pay very many people. Most days it’s just me and Mandy. There’s a high school kid, Jim, who comes in on weekends. That’s why we have such short hours.”

I generally don’t keep the place open past two or three. Most of the traffic comes by in the morning, anyway. But I’m sure we could do additional business if we were open for people coming home from work. Or if we had coffee. Another thing Sal shot down as too expensive. No coffee, not even drip. God forbid I should ask for a couple of espresso machines.

“Yeah, I saw the hours on the sign,” Nick comments. “I was afraid I might be too late to pick anything up.”

I shake my head. “Nope. We’re still open. Technically.” I figure I’ll turn the CLOSED sign over as soon as Nick heads out. It’s not like people are standing in line outside the door, after all. “What can I get for you?”

“I was hoping for a few boxes.” My eyebrows go up—usually I end up selling a couple of pastries here, a couple more there, a few loaves of bread every once in a while. “Maybe whatever you have that’s going to go to the day-old shelves tomorrow?”

Okay, this is going to be a good sale. I can’t help but be a little excited about it. I start looking over the items in the display cabinet, tallying up what I might have in the back. “I think we can accommodate you, sir.”

“That’s great.”

He leans against the counter, and I can’t help but notice the way his shirt pulls tight over the solid, prominent muscles of his chest. I take out a box, unfold and assemble it, and start dropping donuts inside. “Are you having a party? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”

He smiles. “I’m going by my mom’s place. They always like fresh bread and pastries.” There’s a hesitation, just long enough for me to wonder how many people live in his mom’s house that he’s buying several dozen pastries. “She’s in a nursing home.”

“Oh.” My voice comes out small, and I feel like I’ve made a misstep. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. She likes it there. She’s got a ton of friends, and I go by a couple times a week. We just lost my dad, so it’s good she’s got people there she can hang out with when she gets lonely.”

“Oh.” I seem to be having problems coming up with full sentences. “That’s great.” I set the full box aside and grab another one. “I mean, that she has friends there, and that you go see her.”

Nick nods in response, then points toward the display case. “Are those apple fritters?”

“These on the left are apple; the ones on the right are peach.”

“That sounds phenomenal. Can I get a few of those?”

“Of course.” I put fritters in the second box. It gives me an excuse not to look at him when I say, “So…I enjoyed dancing with you at the party last night.”

There’s a moment of silence long enough that I finally look at him. His face has gone hard and sober, and my heart lurches. Whenever I see a look like that on Sal’s face, it means he’s about to haul off and hit me, or at the very least rip me up one side and down the other verbally. He’s very imaginative with his insults, is Sal. Sometimes they hurt more than when he actually strikes me.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “Should I not have mentioned it?”

Nick’s head jerks to one side as if I’ve pulled him out of his thoughts. “No. No, it’s not that. I just…” He smiles then, and that’s when I realize he saw Sal hit me. My face goes hot. I look back down at the pastry box.

“Sarah,” he continues, “I had a good time last night. I’m really glad I met you. I’m glad we danced.” Reaching over the top of the display case, he holds his hand out. “Very glad.”

I manage a smile in spite of the hot sense of humiliation that’s washed over me. I set another pastry in the box and then reach out to take his hand. His strong fingers squeeze mine gently, and then he lets go. “How about some rolls?” he suggests. “And bread. They always like to get fresh bread for sandwiches.”

I nod. “I’ve got some more bread in the back. I’ll go get some as soon as we finish out here.”

I’m filling another box with Danishes—cheese, cherry, and lemon. He nods approvingly. “So how’s business? You get a lot of customers?”

My stomach dips a little. “Okay. It could be better. There’s a lot of work I’d like to do that I just can’t afford right now.”

“That’s too bad. Everything looks wonderful. And the smell in here is heavenly.”

That ekes a smile out of me. I love the way this place smells, too. It’s my favorite thing about it. I can only eat so many pastries and so much bread, but I can smell dough and yeast all day and never get tired of it. “I’ll tell you what,” I say. “When I go back to get the bread, you want to come along? I can show you the behind-the-scenes scoop.”

“That sounds great.”

Now my stomach’s fluttering with excitement. I seem to be riding a roller coaster, emotion-wise. Why does he do that to me? Yes, he’s handsome, and he’s been nicer to me than anybody has in a long time, but still, he’s one of Spada’s men, and that means I should stay far away. Very, very far away. There’s nothing but trouble, pain, heartbreak, and probably death down that road.

I add a few crullers to the last box, then close it and set it on the counter. While he looks over the stack of boxes, I head to the door and turn over the sign so it says CLOSED. I’m about fifteen minutes ahead of the posted closing time, but it doesn’t much matter. Nobody’s out on the sidewalk waiting to come in.

When I turn around to go back to the counter, Nick’s looking at me. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize he’s been checking out my ass this whole time. I don’t know whether to be annoyed or flattered. He’s a man, after all. I decided on flattered for the moment. If he says anything crude, I’ll reevaluate.

He doesn’t say anything, though—just moves aside as I head back behind the counter and wave for him to join me. “Let’s go. I’ll show you the fascinating inner workings of a small, not-very-successful bakery. It’ll be the most interesting thing you’ve done in, oh, at least the last fifteen minutes.”

He chuckles. I like him, and he’s managing to charm me even more than he did last night. Of course, he’s on his best behavior. Even Sal can be charming when he works at it. There’s no telling what this man is like when he’s not after something. And I’ve been around these guys long enough to know he’s after something. Everyone is.

He joins me behind the counter. It occurs to me it’s probably not the best idea for me to be alone with him like this, but on the other hand I’m not getting any warning signals. All I’m getting from him is genuine interest.

Like you can trust your instincts. I mentally roll my eyes at myself. “Come on this way. I’ll show you where we do all the magic.”