Page 67 of Rough and Rugged

I have half a mind to follow her back to the kitchen and make her tell me who upset her. Who could ever hurt someone so pure, so perfect? She is the sweetest, kindest, most beautiful soul I have ever known. I know I’m wasting her time coming in here every morning, but I can’t help it.

That darkness in me is drawn to her sweet light.

“You don’t belong with her. No one wants you,” a voice from the past twists with the negative asshole living rent-free in my head.

As I’m trying to shut that voice up, she comes through the swinging kitchen door. In her hand is a bag of sourdough bread, but I barely notice. What Idonotice are the tearstains on her face and the sadness in her eyes. I reach for the bread, our fingers brushing. I ask what is wrong, what I’ve done, but she dismisses me entirely.

“Thanks, darlin’,” I mutter, lifting the bread stupidly.

Outside, the ding of the bell irritates me. I almost smash the bag of bread. But I know how much effort she puts into all the things she makes. I cherish all the bread she gives me, most of which she won’t let me pay for.

Bria says she owes the guys up on the landing, but I don’t see how. Sure, we all shop at the little shops, attend the fairs or the parades, and the two logging landings at Felle’s Landings employ tons of locals. That doesn’t mean she owes any of us. They all take good care of us idiots.

Twenty minutes later, I’m on the landing with fresh bread. I hand it out to the guys. I tell Sebastian, the site supervisor, I might cut out before I even get started. It’s been a rainy few days, so we’ve filled the long hours with site work and safety checks. I am in no mood to do a lot of.

“You came all the way up here to drop off bread and split?”

“No. I shouldn’t have brought you bastards her bread,” I snark, reaching out to snag a hunk off before Miller can eat it all. “I’m not in the right mind for this today. I need some time to go think about some things.”

“No problem, brother. We all need those days. Tell your old lady we love this stuff.”

Grinning, I nod because I have yet to correct any of them about calling her my old lady. If I can get out of my damn way, she will be. Shut off the voices and do something sweet, show her I’m not a brutish logger with nothing going on upstairs. Besides, if any of these jerks went anywhere near my sweet Bria, I might lose my damn mind.

Heading back to my truck, I wave off their teasing about going to get sweets. I wish it were that simple. Wish I could go back to the bakery and tell her how I feel. If I thought for one moment she might feel something for me, I would not even hesitate. Since I can’t be sure, even after all these months of my daily visits to the shop, I do not know what I’m going to do.

Taking the road back to town, I slow as I roll past her cottage. I doubt she knows I drive by every single night before I head home. I have to make sure she’s home safe. I also show up before dawn when she heads to the bakery. It means I have been living on no sleep, but the trade-off is worth it. Even though she doesn’t know I’m there, I am better being close.

“That is mental. Stalking. Creepier than shit,” that ugly voice hisses.

Nodding, I turn up the radio, listening to some country song about heartache and loneliness. I know plenty about that. When I came to Driftwood, I never intended to wind up staying. I came here for a summer getaway. Until I met Mack Felle and some guys on the landing. Then I walked into a bakery and found the woman of my dreams.

That first day, I was a goner. Done for. Get a ring and a preacher. I went in because I smelled fresh bread and sugary sweets. There she was, in her cute print apron, hands covered in sugar, and a smile that changed my entire world. I was in love before I took a single bite of her sweets.

“What can I get for you, big guy?”

“You... I mean... uh, can I get... uh...”I meant the first word blurts out. I wantedher. For a moment, I feared she knew I meant it.

Because I damn sure meant it when I said it. Those green eyes gazing up at me, that big smile and her sugary sweetness had me from the first moment. I was pulled to her almost like a magnet to metal. For the first time in my life, I could ignore that nasty voice in my head.

I became addicted to that, to going to chat for a few minutes each morning. My day is off if I don’t see her. I am no good at flirting or letting on how I feel, so she seems clueless that I’m not coming every single day for her bread. I come for her because I need to see her to feel right.

Slowing on Main Street, I angle the truck into a parking spot across from the bakery. Sitting there for a short time, I watch the shop. Watch her customers come and go. See how many go smiling because she has given them a sweet or her savory breads. I am jealous of each of them for the moments they have with her, moments I never allow us.

Here and now, I decide tomorrow, I’m going to get out of my way. To talk to her about what I feel, how badly I want her. It might mean I never get another sweet cupcake, loaf of her bread, or a moment of her time. It’s time to be honest.

Time to tell Bria while I love her bread, I want more—want her wed and bred with my babies.

Chapter Three

Bria

Facingthehardstuffis what I am good at.

We lost my mom when I was a little girl. Our father should never have had children. He was too selfish, too withdrawn to bother looking after us. It was hard at first having only Mackenzie to turn to. She did everything she could to make up for all we had lost.

It made both of us tough. We got through skinned knees, first periods, and first crushes together. Knowing we always had one another made us almost invincible if we were together. Mackenzie can’t always be there to rescue me. And she shouldn’t have to rescue me now.

I am a big girl; I can bandage up my own skinned knee or broken heart.

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