Page 2 of Hot Response
“You could say that,” she repeated my words and cracked a smile. “Mind if we start over?”
“Not at all.”
“Hi, my name is Evelyn,” she introduced herself, extending her delicate but strong hand. Without thinking, I took it. My eyes felt like they widened with how her hand felt against mine. Calloused palm to softer palm. I felt a hint of recognition. Her hand in mine almost felt familiar.Right.
“Ron,” I rasped, pulling my hand away in a hurry, as if hers burned me, before clearing my throat. “I’ll take that apple fritter and an iced coffee.”
“Cool. I’ll get that made up for you. Why don’t you take a seat. The cake will be ready soon.”
“Right. Thanks.” I turned and headed to a table and sat down. I took my phone out, mindlessly scrolling through apps while I urged my body to settle the fuck down. Not that it listened. I felt like I was amped up on adrenaline that simply wouldn’t go away.
She personally dropped off the iced coffee and apple fritter. Her soft feminine scent rose above all the sweet smells of the pastries in the shop, making it uniquely her. My mouth watered, but I simply nodded, jutting my chin in a silent thanks before my attention drifted back to my phone.
I’d walked in here to do a favor for a friend, and I had a sinking feeling I was royally screwed.
I might have asked for a sign when I’d walked in, but this wasn’t what I thought I’d get. There was no way Sara would have sent me to someone else, would she?
All she would have wanted for you is to be happy.Her mom, Tiffany’s, words she’d told me just a month ago, after my visit, drifted back into my head for the first time since she’d said them.She wouldn’t want you alone.I hadn’t put much thought into her words. She always said that. But as I sat in this bakery that felt so warm and welcoming, almost more comfortable than my own home, I had a feeling this would be far from my last time in here.
And I wasn’t sure what to do about it.
ONE
EVELYN ROJAS
I watchedthe security camera that faced the parking lot and didn’t know how to feel.
He was here.
Again.
It was like a double-edged sword to see his sleek, freshly washed truck in the parking lot of my bakery. Excitement prickled through me.
Excitement I didn’t want to feel.
As handsome as the paramedic was, it was clear he wasn’t interested. Not when he always walked in with a stern look on his face, an expression so intense and dire I wondered if it would ever crack, if even for just a moment. What a true smile from the handsome first responder would look like.
I had no idea why he had come in almost daily for the last two weeks since picking up an engagement cake for his friend. With the way he spoke and carried himself, it was clear that for whatever reason, he found my bakery uninviting and uncomfortable. But like clockwork, every morning, he stopped by and bought the same thing: One dozen donuts and one dozen cookies.
He was usually in uniform, so I figured he did it for the people in his office. But today, just like yesterday, he was in regular street clothes.
It was his day off, yet he was here.
Again.
I knew he’d be grumpy, and for some reason, all I wanted to do was make him smile. It was like a goal I had silently set for myself after he came three days in a row. A goal I’d yet to achieve.
A ding of an alarm went off to remind me that a new batch of cupcakes was done. I pushed away from my office chair and decided I needed to focus. I might have been somewhat interested in the giant, broody medic, but it was clear he didn’t feel the same way.
For whatever reason, he’d decided to support my small business, and I had to keep my thoughts of him strictly as a client. It wasn’t like I was the greatest at choosing men anyhow. My last relationship had been a dumpster fire, and I’d learned my lesson. The reminder of how things had been with Kyle changed my mood. I’d lost so much of myself in that relationship. I had to get myself together.
No flirting or extra big smiles.
I had to quit that.
It was obvious he didn’t like me. He never returned a smile. It didn’t matter if he slipped into my dreams at night or it was his face I saw when I had a moment to take care of myself late at night. That wasn’t real. It was fantasy. I knew better than to try to achieve the unattainable. Maybe he couldn’t get over the fact I’d kinda called him a jerk after the whole engagement cake confusion when he had been doing his friend a favor. I needed to touch grass and remind myself of what was actually true. Actions speak louder than words.
I was happy where I was, running my own bakery and making enough to be my own boss, and keep my head above water and bills paid on time. That was enough. I didn’t need more. I was perfectly fine without someone to share it with.
