Page 59 of Make Mine Sweet
His earnest vote of confidence lifts me up like a buoy, even though my behavior just now proves him wrong. I am terrified of every potential outcome from this night—scared to move closer to him and scared to lose ground. When I don’t know which step to take, it’s easiest to stay exactly where I am. In this case, that means scurrying out of his reach.
“I will remember that if I ever decide to climb a mountain.” I move away from him so I can tuck the first aid kit back into the plastic drawer. And take whole lungfuls of air again.
“If you ever climb a mountain, you’ll do it with me.”
I stop my fidgeting and meet his eyes. He looks a little like he did when I met him on the trail that day—intense and deadly serious. “You don’t trust anyone else?”
“Not with you.”
Can words sink into your skin and light you up from the inside? That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me, and I’m not even sure he means it that way. Maybe he’s just confident he’s the best guide around. But as keenly as he’s watching me, I don’t think that’s it.
“I will keep that in mind.” Quite literally. “Thank you again for taking care of my arm.”
Apparently accepting my cue that I need a little space, his gaze settles into something less intense and more strictly friendly. Neighborly.
This is what I wanted?
“Thanks for letting me.”
We cross the small apartment to the front door. It’s only a few steps, but it feels like crossing an ocean—tumultuous and uncertain. He lets himself out and steps onto the front porch, but turns around to face me again.
“Do me a favor?” he says. “Don’t take your trash out at night anymore.”
He dips his head to look at me from beneath his heavy red eyebrows, his mouth quirked up into a smirk.
“I promise.” I hold my hand out to shake on it. Even though I’m afraid to try for anything more with Ian, I don’t want him to leave without touching me one more time.
Mixed messages, maybe, but Ian doesn’t seem like he’s confused. He takes my hand in his, warm and firm and absolutely enveloping. He doesn’t shake it like this is a business deal. He just holds it. Like he wanted one more touch, too. Then, he sweeps his fingertips along the inside of my wrist.
Notneighborly.
I draw in a soft breath, and his gaze warms. I might shudder, too, but I’m too focused on his touch to pay attention to anything else.
“I’ll hold you to it,” he says.
TWENTY
TESS
I shouldn’t feellike a criminal on the lam when I’m working in my own business. Okay, technically it’s not mine—Mom brought Wren and me in as partners after we each turned twenty-five. I’m a co-owner. Still. My heart’s racing while I blend new frosting flavors in the back, like I expect to be raided and handcuffed any minute.
Unlikely, since Mom left to pick August up from daycare an hour ago. She promised him an afternoon at his favorite park, so she won’t come here again today unless absolutely necessary. She’s dedicated to Blackbird’s Bakery, but she’s even more dedicated to being the best grandma.
I carefully pipe thick buttercream over filled cupcakes, agonizing just a touch over the flavor ratios with this batch. Peanut butter and jelly sounded like the perfect summer cupcake, but I’m not certain putting peanut butter in the cakeandicing was the right call. The jelly should offset the nutty taste, but I don’t want the peanut butter to overwhelm. At least I have a willing taste tester.
Smiling to myself, I frost the rest of the cupcakes on the baking tray. I’ve been swooning around all day, earning a dozen knowing looks from Wren. I told her a little of what happened last night when I explained about the big bandage on my arm, but it was more than enough for her to get carried away with her own ideas. Probably ridiculous scenarios where Ian’s shirt comes unbuttoned as he runs through a field toward me.
What actually happened last night was better. I mean…I wouldn’t hate the running toward me scenario, but bandaging my injuries is a romance book trope, too. I think. I don’t read much of that genre, but I’ll just assume that it is.
And rescuing me. That’s a romance book thing for sure. He got right between me and danger. The fact that the danger was only raccoons going through my trash isn’t important.
“Tess.”
I startle and look up. Wren’s poking her head into the back room, a sly smile on her face while she watches me work.
“Daydreaming about someone?” she wants to know. “I had to say your name a couple of times.”
I straighten my back and set the piping bag aside. “I’m focused on my cupcakes.”
