Page 75 of Desserts for Stressed People

“I’m hardly interviewing her. Just getting to know the girl you’ve been pining over for years.”

“Oh, look. We’re here,” he almost shouts, pulling over.

What does she mean, “pining over for years”? We only met a few weeks ago.

“Fine. Well, Heaven, it was wonderful to meet you.” Riley’s smile is coy as she pats my shoulder. “I’m having a little party for my birthday on Tuesday. You should come.”

I guess Shane wouldn’t mind, because he says nothing, so I turn to Riley. “Thank you. I’d love to.”

She hands me her phone and after I save my number on it, she tucks it in her pocket and waves. “Great. I’ll text you the details!”

Shane’s gaze shoots to me as the door closes behind her and he drives away—the only noise comes from the air conditioning and his hands sliding over the steering wheel. At this point, I’m kind of a pro at sitting in a car with him, and we’ve always talked to each other. We’ve always had plenty to say. I have even more to say now, but I’m still not sure he’ll listen. And the silence is deafening.

The screen on the car dashboard lights up with a call. It’s Dan—if I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s made it his personal goal to interrupt Shane and me as soon as we enter a moving vehicle. Shane’s finger flies to the green button, but before he presses it, he stops. He steals a glance my way, then opts for the red button instead.

I trap my bottom lip under the upper one to stifle a smile.

“I’m sorry about my sister,” he begins, but all I can focus on is his squared jaw and perfect nose. I wish I could touch every bit of him until they become familiar. “And don’t listen to her, she—she talks a lot and most of it is nonsense.”

“She’s lovely. You have nothing to worry about.”

He dismisses my words with a gesture of his hand, but the crinkles forming on the side of his eyes speak volumes. Although he plays gruff brother with her, he loves her deeply. Like how he plays gruff boss, but he’s actually a very thoughtful person.

Only now I realize I might be catfishing Shane, but he’s catfishing everyone around him.

“What did she mean when she said ‘pining over for years’?” I venture, though everything in me begs me to stop. Maybe she was talking about another woman, maybe it was just a trap for me to confess my feelings to him. Hell, maybe it was a hyperbole. Or maybe not. After all, we’ve been working in the same building complex for half a decade.

“Hm?” He swallows. “Oh, no, you misheard.”

“Yeah?” I bite the inside of my cheek, my muscles hardening with tension. “What did she say?”

“Um, that I...was...hunting deers.”

I blink.

“Whining about my fears.” He side-glances at me. “Drinking a handful of beers?”

“Shane,” I croon. “What did Riley say?”

“Just—I’ve been pining over some new…”—with the back of his hand, he slaps the shifter—“some new gears.”

Pining over somegears? God, he looks adorable when he’s flustered. His cheeks are pink, his tongue tied into a knot I’d love to undo with mine. Even the way his forehead twitches makes my heart flutter. “That’s definitely not what she said.”

With a sigh so deep I can breathe the light scent of wine on his breath, he turns to me. Setting his beautiful, cocoa brown eyes on me, he softly whispers, “Yes, it is, Heaven.”

Oh, come on. “I—”

A loud thump interrupts my sentence. The car jolts, and his focus shifts back to the road as his arm protectively moves in front of me and retracts before touching me. “Shit. A pothole.” His arms strain as he struggles to hold on to the steering wheel. After a few seconds, with a click of his tongue, he pulls over. “Great. The tire is busted.”

He gets out of the car, and once I join him, he passes a hand over his face while staring at the right front wheel.

“Is it flat?”

He nods.

“Don’t you have a spare one?”

“No.” He rubs his forehead. “I got a nail last week and used the spare. I haven’t replaced it yet.”

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