Page 21 of Right With You
Aknock on Glazed’s front door pulled my attention from my task. I’d been sealing fifteen boxes full of donuts with Glazed stickers starring my smiley pink glazed donut mascot.
My pulse raced.
I’d kept busy for the last few hours, first with customers, then closing up, then working on the special order someone had made for the PTA meeting this afternoon at the elementary school. My brain had been grabbing at Luc’s words and expression—searching through every second of our time together to suss out his intentions, but nothing worked.
As I walked toward the door and flipped the lock, I promised myself I’d stay calm and hear him out. I wouldn’t assume he was lying to me or keeping things from me. I wouldn’t assume he’d use whatever I said against me later.
I wouldn’t assume he was just like Callum.
“Do you have a few minutes?” he asked, his eyes downright soulful as they inspected my apron and a large smear of frosting stretching from one side of my chest to the other.
Not my finest work, but the edge of the industrial mixer had been coated when I leaned in—it didn’t matter. I was a mess and in some ways that made me feel better. There was no pretending I had it all together. If he had somehow detected I was financially stressed, then… so be it.
“Sure.”
I tipped my head to the side and turned back toward the kitchen. A small swell of pride burst as we entered the space where the three stacks of five boxes each full of a dozen donuts waited for me to finish. They looked beautiful, and inside, the donuts were fresh and delicious. These would reach new clients who didn’t have time to come downtown in the mornings, and maybe they’d set up a standing order for their PTA meetings.
Note to self: find a way to suggest this as a recurring arrangement.
“These look beautiful. That’s a lot of donuts.” He kept his hands tucked into his pockets but his eyes traveled over the neat stacks.
“One hundred and eighty. All glazed and ready to go.” I moved to the sink to wash my hands, then dried them so I could finish the task of sealing the boxes. He simply watched in silence.
Ugh, this man. He was naturally quiet and yet he sent my blood pumping. He smelled so good and clean, he was still too gorgeous to look directly in the eye, and he was driving me insane with his quiet company.
He’s a fantasy.
I shouldn’t forget this.
A low rumbling sound filled the space, and my jaw dropped as I looked over to see him press a hand to his stomach.
“Was that you?”
His grave countenance and wide eyes spoke of how uncomfortable he felt. “I am so sorry.”
I laughed and reached for one of the remainders on a rack. “Here. You need lunch, but we need to talk, so how about you eat this and then you can go drown yourself in protein shakes or whatever you do to stay so fit.”
Ope.Yeah. So.Way to be obvious.
One of his dark brows arched. “Drown myself in protein shakes? What about me eating your donuts several times a week gives you the impression I like protein shakes?”
The hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth was, let’s be honest, a little alarming. Because there was confidence in that expression, and he’d relaxed in the wake of his post-tummy-rumble mortification.
I flicked a hand like my comment meant nothing. “I’m just saying, some of us eat donuts regularly and it shows, and for some of us, it doesn’t.” I cheekily glanced down at my body, then over to him, promptly shifting so my back was to him, busying myself with the delivery bags a second later.
His voice dropped low when he said, “Please tell me you’re not suggesting you are anything less than exquisite.”
A jolt of surprise stopped me, and I turned to see his face somber and almost… well, if I had to guess, I’d say almost upset.
I rushed to clarify. “I… I mean I’m not sure I’d say I’mexquisitebut thank you for that. I mostly just mean you look like you’re about to audition for the next Superman movie.”
Mmkay and had I imagined such a thing? Yes. He’d look great in the suit and basically already fought crime like a boss. But…
An awkwardness descended and coated me in regret. I didn’t particularly struggle with body image—or I didn’t used to. I’d realized what a blessing it was to own the way I was made and the changes that’d occurred over my thirty-four years on the planet, but the knot in my stomach now was real. I’d gotten into the habit of putting myself down in front of Callum as a way to build him up—a pattern I’d adopted after being on the receiving end of his negativity and insults. And my throwaway joke felt a little too close to the habit I’d worked to forget.
Luc had spotted it instantly.
He shook his head slowly. “I’m paid to stay in shape, so I do. I also have decent genes, based on how my parents aged. But I don’t live for working out or anything like some of the guys do. It’s an important part of my life and has been for a long time, as is feeding myself, but I find I struggle to enjoy the food that fuels me best.”
