Page 48 of Make Mine Sweet
Decadent. I like that. Especially when Ian says it.
He pays for the items and drops way too much cash into the tip jar. I purse my lips at him, but he’s unmoved. He gives me a quick “live with it” nod, and a lock of hair falls forward across one eye. His groan sends shivers up my spine.
“Maybe I should have gone for the buzz cut,” he says.
“It’s probably still long enough to go back in the man bun.” Not something I ever thought I’d suggest, but I’d never seenhimin one before.
He leans forward a touch to take the bag from the counter, staring me straight in the eye. “Arr.”
The sound hums through me like a low growl. I shiver even as I have to laugh. The man just smirks.
Smirks. My heart is going through it today.
“I’ll see you, Tess.” He still doesn’t quite smile again, but my goodness, the warmth in his parting look is more than enough.
The second Ian disappears from view out the front window, Wren reappears at my side.
“Did he just—” she starts.
“Did you have your ear pressed to the crack in the door back there?” I like to think we’re past the spying stage, but what do I know? I haven’t had much of anything to spy on in forever.
She lays a hand over her heart. “Sound carries in here.”
Right. Not that well.
“Especially pirate-y sounds.”
I glare at her, but she’s never been swayed by a simple look. That sound was forme.
“He’s definitely got the look.” She keeps talking like I’m paying her to annoy me. “A pirate captain ready to swashbuckle the seas. Or whatever.”
“He looks like a normal man.” It’d be a lot more convincing if my voice didn’t crack when I said it.
“Mmm hmm. Are you going to admit you like him now?”
Both answers spring to my lips. Saying it in words feels like overkill, but denying it? Feels too much like a lie.
Wren sighs but still manages a smile. “Just don’t wait twenty years to admit it, okay?”
SIXTEEN
IAN
It’sa little too “on the nose” to say Dutch has a Pavlovian response to August being in the yard, but the moment he starts whining at the back door, I let him out. I heard Tess’s car pull up out front a few minutes ago, so I can relate. He wants the same thing I do—any time with our neighbors we can get.
August’s “Hey, boy!” pierces the evening air, and they’re off like a shot. I step onto the porch, my hands in my shorts’ pockets. I changed out of my jeans as soon as I got home, unwilling to fight the heat and discomfort any longer. I don’t like how exposed I feel in my own space, as if paparazzi might be lying in wait to snap pictures and ask questions. To be clear, nobody ever cared that much about my situation.
But Tess already knows about my prosthetic leg. And still blushed like mad when I indulged in the crazy urge togrowlat her in her bakery.
That blush has been humming through my blood all afternoon. I want to see it again.
Tess joins me on the porch, and our eyes meet. Hold for a beat. When her lips tip up into a smile, something cracks in my ribcage. Like my heart’s been encased in cement and is finally breaking free so it can beat again.
“I feel bad about commandeering your dog,” she says.
“I don’t,” I tell her truthfully. “He’s like a puppy again. I love to see it.”
I haven’t been as good with our walks and play time as I used to be. Knowing he’s got an eager playmate makes me happier than she seems to suspect.
