Page 7 of Make Mine Sweet
“That one goes in the kitchen, too,” Tess calls from behind me.
I set the box on the counter and readCake pans, sheet panswritten neatly on top.
She catches me inspecting it. “My family owns the bakery in town.”
That explains all the extra stuff in the kitchen. Amy has the places pretty well outfitted, but you’d never know it from the assortment of fresh boxes Tess brought along.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you in there.” Her smile threatens to knock the air out of my lungs, and I have to look away.
It’s a hint at a question I should just ignore. Finish this task Amy gave me and go on with my day. But since up until half an hour ago my day entirely consisted of throwing a stick for my dog and taking a nap, I respond.
“I don’t go into town much.”
Back in Durango, I couldn’t even go to the grocery store without running into someone I knew. Someone who would give me too-cheerful encouragement or thinly-masked sympathy about my accident. Usually both. There are only so many times someone can tell me I’m a “fighter” before I crack. Eventually, I stopped going out. Didn’t see any reason to change when I moved here.
Tess doesn’t seem deterred. “Well, next time you do, you should stop in. I’ll give you a cupcake on the house.”
Of course it would be cupcakes. I’ve been around her less than an hour, and it’s clear the woman is sweetness personified. It could be an act, but I used to be able to read people pretty well. From her interactions with her son, me, even the dog, she’s been nothing but gentle and warm-hearted.
For the first time in a long while, a twinge of regret hits me for how sour I’ve become. But instead of shifting gears, I dig in my heels. Things will be easier for everyone if I stay the course.
“I’m watching my figure.”
Her gaze darts down to my chest and slips over my arms before popping back up to meet my eyes. My skin warms from her quick glance, even though her expression gives nothing away.
It’s not like I care what she thinks of my body. If I had shorts on, she’d only notice my prosthesis, anyway.
A hint of what she thinks wouldn’t hurt.
“When you have a cheat day, then.”
My impulse is to reject the offer. I’ve refused nearly every request Amy’s made of me since I got here. I don’t go into town, I don’t browse the shops, and I don’t chit chat with gorgeous, impossibly soft-looking women.
“Maybe,” comes out of my mouth anyway.
She beams as though I delivered her a solemn promise.
We walk back out to her car to get the last of their things. For starting out packed to the gills, they didn’t bring much beyond clothes, some toys, and baking supplies. Then again, neither did I, but I don’t need much. Seems like a family would have a whole lot more with them.
Makes me wonder if she’s getting out of a bad situation. A hot spike of protectiveness runs through me, but I tell it to calm down with the heroics. I’m proof looks don’t count for anything, but nothing about her makes it seem like she’s running from something. The only thing I can see causing her any anxiety is me.
The way her gaze keeps darting to me like she’s waiting for me to do or say something crazy has got me rethinking my Neanderthal-chic look.
“Is this it?” I ask, arms full of reusable tote bags loaded with stuffed animals and soft blankets.
“For now.” She pulls the last bag from the rear section not occupied by a booster seat. “If we forgot anything we need, I can always drive across town and get it later.”
“Flexible landlord.” Pretty sure most expect you to move out everything you own when you leave. Mine did. Although he was more upset about me breaking my lease than anything I might have left behind.
“Oh no, we lived with—” She flinches, and her answer fades into strained laughter.
That spike goes through me again, but this time it’s colored with jealousy. Completely inappropriate, but here all the same, flashing bright green.
“Your ex-husband?” I suggest in a flat voice. I’m not asking for details. Don’t need them.
She cringes. “No. Definitely not.”
I shrug. “Ex-boyfriend, then.”
