Page 2 of Right With You
“Here you go,” I said, handing him a bright pink bag containing his donut,Glazedemblazoned in white across the front of it.
Wait for it…
“Thank you, Elise.”
His gaze lingered, and I could’ve sworn there was some kind of twinkle in his gorgeous eyes. How could he make that simple phrase sound soft and alluring and flirty?
I nodded, swallowing down the riot his words started. Cells in my chest and synapses in my brain threw a party as the sound of my name in his low, smooth voice hit my ear drums.
Elise.
Good gracious, he said it every time, and I’d never loved my name more than when it slipped from his lips with his French pronunciation making it sound so beautiful. A crispehinstead of the variable American approaches to the start that so often sounded likeuh.And then the firmsealmost like a z, a far cry from the wispysssound of my native language.
Okay so I had no linguistic training to properly explain the sounds his glorious French tongue made of my name, I just knew I liked it.
A little too much, weirdo.
That helpful thought shoved me back to work just in time to see another customer wander in, keeping me from the oft-visited story my brain had come up with where Jean-Luc’s glorious light accent had the ability to command anyone in its hearing, not unlike a vampire glamour. Nay, there was no time for that.
The absence of a line when he arrived was depressingly indicative of business in the last two weeks since Silver Ridge Mountain closed for the season. I might’ve loved spring in Utah—the timid blooms peeking out, the bright pink skies that began emerging, and the glory that would be fields of wildflowers come June, but… ugh. It sucked for business.
I helped the new customer and staunchly refused to enjoy the view of Jean-Luc sitting at my table eating my donut and reading with those thick black frames. It would do nothing for me, and I had prep to do for tomorrow.
He wasn’t a lonely college professor, wishing for the right donut-making woman to take her coffee break and chat with him. He wasn’t a bedraggled single dad sneaking a moment for himself and discovering the perfect woman standing right in front of him.
I knew very well these things weren’t true, but what harm was there in a little imagination? Lately, it was all the creativity I had, and it was safe. No risks involved when the game afoot was merely me, myself, and I telling stories in the silence of our mind—to us.
After bustling around tasks and wiping down counters, I moved to the back to prep for a quick inventory of supplies so I could send in an order. By the time I checked back in the dining area, Jean-Luc had gone.
Ignoring the twinge of something I couldn’t name, I finished tidying up and set chairs on tables. With no one coming in and only twenty minutes left, I felt fine about it. Since we opened early and the tourist traffic had tapered off thanks to the end of ski season, I’d started closing before noon.
Maybe it made me a crap business owner, but my desire to stay chipper and welcoming right up until closing time had fallen by the wayside right about the time I’d had to start trucking donuts to the homeless shelter every day rather than selling out. After a few days and realizing it wasn’t a fluke and the traffic really had died off that abruptly, I’d adjusted how many I made and didn’t have the same surplus.
On the way out to the dumpster around the corner, a shout halted my progress.
“Elise, stop.”
Uh-leess.My heart sank.
“What do you need, Callum?” I asked, turning to face my ex and demanding my knees stand firm and my strength hold.
“What doIneed? Leesy, it’s whatyouneed, and we both know it.” He crossed his arms and looked at me, a mixture of pity, censure, and cruelty in his eyes.
Anger and fear warred as I gritted out, “I don’t think so.” I stepped away from him as he moved closer. My spine stiffened and my stomach clenched.
“You need me and what I’ve invested in your little shop. And if you want that investment to stay put, you’ll do as you’re told. You’re mine whether you acknowledge it or not. It’s that simple.”
Fury ignited in my veins and my teeth ground together, because right at its heels came fear surging past all my best efforts at walling it off. Familiar, ugly, shameful.
Talk about the opposite of a fun fantasy.
“You—you don’t get to tell me what to do. I’m not yours and I haven’t been in months.” My back hit the brick wall as he got closer and his hand reached for me. I craned my neck away, trying to melt back, to escape. But there was none, was there? Not where Callum was concerned.
“You’ll do?—”
His words cut off. I opened my eyes to see him sneering as he turned, someone grasping his arm and halting his progress toward me.
“Hey, you can’t?—”
