Sweet Spot(Plaything #2)(16)

"I will look forward to it."

The coastal fog had not lifted yet, and the beach looked dreary under the gray mist, but nothing could dampen my spirits. After going through some of the darkest days of my life recently, I felt like things were starting to work again.

My pussy was still tender from the weekend. I hoped that feeling would linger for days to come, so I could relive it all in my dreams.

"I was thinking, Macy, I could lease a bakery shop and let you run it. It would be a business investment for me, and you wouldn't have to bake out of your house and drag everything back and forth with you to the stand. You could even name it Sweet Spot."

I stared over at him, trying to decide if he was serious. It seemed he was.

"Thank you, Chase. It's a tempting offer, but I feel like I need to do this on my own. I'm starting to get a big following on social media. I think once I build up enough of a loyal customer base, I'm going to head to the bank and beg for a loan."

"I don't blame you. You're right. You need to do this all on your own. But I can help you get in front of the right banker when you're ready for a loan."

"I will probably take you up on that." I sat back and stared out the passenger window. I had so many mixed feelings about Chase. I was trying my hardest not to let myself get carried away. He wasn't the type to settle down with a single girlfriend, and I was certainly not the type to want to be one of his special friends. My heart just couldn't deal with that. He seemed to sense what I was thinking.

"Hey, Macy, I know you've read some stuff about my life, about my reputation. Probably most of it is true, but I just wanted you to know that—" His phone rang and the bluetooth turned on. The screen showed the name Zane. Chase touched the answer icon.

"Hey, Zane, can I call you back later?"

"No problem. Nothing important. I was just wondering if you ever popped the cherry on that sweet little virgin."

Chase's hand shot out, and he hung up on his friend. He stared forward for a second. I could see his throat move as he swallowed hard. I kept my eyes trained on the road in front of us.

"Macy," his voice broke through the cold cloud that had surrounded me.

"Please, just take me home."





Chapter Twenty-Six





Chase





Macy had sat so still in the passenger seat, looking so small and sad, that it made me feel as if I'd taken an ice cold fist to the gut. I got out to walk her up to the house, but she raced to the door, trying to avoid me. I pulled her bag out and set it on the porch as she shuffled through her purse for the keys.

"Macy, that's just guy talk. We're a bunch of idiots, you know that."

"Thank you, Chase," I heard a small sniffle, and the sound of it went straight into my chest.

"Can't we at least talk about it?"

She found her keys and stared down at them for a second. I saw her shoulders lift with a deep breath and braced myself as she turned around. Her brown eyes were glassy, and I wanted to kick myself. The last thing she needed was to be hurt again by a thoughtless asshole, and I'd stepped right into her ex's asshole sized shoes.

"It's fine, Chase. I was under no illusion that I would ever fit into your world. And this is for the best. I'm busy trying to make a go of things with a business, and frankly, having you around was putting a wrench in things. Now I can get back to concentrating on Sweet Spot. Good luck with your version of Sweet Spot." With that, she picked up her bag and went inside.

I stood on the front stoop staring at the faded paint on the front door for a good long minute.

"Fuck."





Chapter Twenty-Seven





Chase





Zane knocked on my office door as he entered it. "Hey, you going to the club tonight?"

"Nah, I'm not in the mood." I'd forgiven him for the stupid phone call mostly because he hadn't meant to fuck everything up. He was just being Zane, and he had no idea Macy was in the car with me. He'd also worked hard to make up for it by buying me lunch for the last two weeks. It still wasn't going to replace the hole that was now drilled into my heart, but I decided he at least owed me free burgers.

He walked in and sat on the chair in front of my desk. "Hot date?" he asked with a hopeful tone.

"Nope. Just me and Netflix and a six pack of beer."

Zane dropped both feet to the ground. "Come on, man, you've got to get out of this funk."

"Why?"

"Cause you're dragging me down with it. I'm dealing with a whole shit load of guilt about that call."

"Good. Hey, I was thinking about roast beef dips from that expensive bistro around the corner. And add in a dill pickle and two of those imported bottles of ale."

He leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. "You know what I don't get is how the hell it’s possible that Chase England, the guy who used to find phone numbers, love notes and, as I recall, panties inside his high school locker can't woo the one woman who seems to have finally taken hold of his heart."

I shrugged. "She doesn't want anything to do with me."

"Ever think that might be the reason you're so broken up about this? Maybe it's because you finally met a woman who could walk away from you."

"That crossed my mind for all of a second. That's not it. Macy just had that certain something. Just like when Trey met Georgie, and he knew he'd met his match. I've met mine with Macy, only my match doesn't want me."

Zane stood up. "You'll get past this, buddy. So beef dips, huh?"

I pulled out my wallet. "Yeah, but my treat this time. I think you've paid for your sins long enough."

Zane picked up the money. "Think about going to the club tonight. Just isn't the same without you, and by that I mean, the women are more likely to swarm our table if we bring our shiny coin along."

"I'll think about it."





Chapter Twenty-Eight





Macy





I parked my car around the corner from the plaza and stared out at the sheets of water sliding down my windshield. Intermittent bursts of wind pelted the window with the same rain, only instead of sheets it came at me like small, clear bullets. The dark storm blocked out the early morning sun, giving the new day the look of a dark, dreary night.

It had been the third rain storm in a month. And what a long month it had been. After the bad ending to my short relationship with Chase, I had to work hard not to run into him. I avoided looking toward his building, knowing that seeing him would only bring that aching thud back to my chest that I'd spent days trying to lose. Mostly, I didn't want to have to endure the hardship of seeing him walk in or out of his building with another woman. I'd even considered finding a new location for my stand, but George and Chuck insisted they would stand guard for me and keep me from any hardship.

I was slowly learning how to protect my baked goods from rain during the journey to the kiosk. I had wrapped them in layers of plastic wrap and placed them in plastic tubs. But this morning's storm seemed extra menacing. The good news was that there would probably be very few customers. Unfortunately, that was the bad news too. I couldn't afford a day without revenue, and all the previous day's baking would be wasted.

I pulled up the hood on my coat and stepped out into the deluge. The water in the gutter was already ankle deep. It swirled around my rain boots like an angry river. I stomped through it to my trunk and pulled out my foldable cart. It was a pain in the ass made an even a bigger pain by the terrible weather. Rain, wind and the stupid cart were all working against me.

A good long string of cuss words and some determination helped me get everything out of the backseat. I rolled along the sidewalk, squinting into the rain and wind. The sidewalks were basically empty, which meant I was bound for an extremely slow morning. George and Chuck's stands were still closed. They never opened before nine, but something told me they might just sit today out.

I pushed my cart across the plaza, barely able to open my eyes in the stinging rain. My hood dropped forward over my face, making it even harder. Water rushed over the brick paved plaza and splashed against my boots, soaking my pants. I still had a good twenty foot trek when the wheel of my cart hit a place where the brick had been broken out by an earlier rainstorm. The cart stopped short. I fell hard against the handle, and my pastry boxes flew to the ground.

It took me a minute to recover from having the handle on the cart jammed into my stomach. Tears stung my eyes as I hurried to the plastic boxes. The lids were still sealed shut, but I was certain the pastries inside no longer looked like pastries. Just then, a burst of wind whistled around the plaza, and the giant stack of napkins I had stored in a plastic bag on the bottom of the cart took off, littering the entire plaza. And since I'd boldly had the words Sweet Spot printed on the napkins there was no way to deny that they had come from my cart. I righted the pastry boxes and set out on a quest to retrieve all the stray napkins.

I was chasing them like a kid chasing leaves, stomping on them and gathering them up in a wet, mushy bundle in my hands. I jumped on two particularly sneaky napkins and stooped down to pull them out from under my rain boot. As I straightened, a hand filled with napkins moved in front of me.

"I saw you from my window. You looked like you could use some help."

It seemed that I hadn't forgotten the sound of his voice because instantly my heart went into flutter mode. I took the napkins from his hand without looking up at him. I quickly took stock of just how terrible I looked drenched in rain and shrouded in a deep hood. I willed myself to look at him. He, of course, looked the opposite of terrible. Apparently, being wet did nothing to wash off his shine. In fact, with his dark hair slicked back and his shirt clinging to his wet skin, he looked ready for a magazine cover.