Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
From a business standpoint, sure, it makes sense—but Haute’s strange smile looks more like he’s offering to lease her soul more than bully her into bed.
I don’t think he wants her, necessarily.
It’s not the grin of a lecherous pig twice her age looking to indulge his lusts.
There must be something more.
What else could he want with her?
Or maybe there isn’t and my mule of a brain is just standing in her way because Forrest Haute rubs me like a bed of splinters.
“Oh. Oh, well…” Junie’s cheeks turn pink, then red. She glances up at me, shock and nervousness vying on her face.
But she’s tempted by the offer—and who can blame her?
There’s that telltale gleam of opportunity I recognize because I feel it too.
Hell, what harm can a jump in steady income do? Especially when it’s coming from places like this golf course, another hub for the rich and well connected.
I nod, and she turns back to Haute with a smile, accepting the champagne flute he offers her from the waiter.
Haute raises his glass in a toast while I order another neat whiskey.
We’ve won Haute over and that’s worth celebrating.
Whatever else he’s planning, he’s all charm now, putting one hand on Junie’s arm and telling her how delightful her peach puffs are.
It’s weird, yeah. Really fucking odd.
Still, he’s bought our illusion. I wonder if it’s just a show of good faith.
Maybe he just really, shamelessly admires sweets more than life itself.
Junie smiles up at me and I force a returning smile for her sake, even though the knot in my stomach makes me want to punch something.
Calm the hell down.
This should be good news, even if I can’t help feeling it’s more like a prison sentence.
I look at her with her red hair coiled up and a pretty blue dress hugging her curves. She bought that one with my money, and I stood back and let her.
I already want to rip it off her with my teeth the second I get the chance.
I’m in over my head, and I don’t just mean this deal with Haute.
Also, if the bakery keeps getting tangled in my business, how do we ever end this arrangement neatly?
I don’t know.
I don’t care.
The only thing I’m sure about right now is the glaring fact that I’m hellbent on keeping Junie as happy as she looks right now.
If anything ever wipes that smile off her face and I know it’s my fault, I’ll fucking die.
19
SWEET ANGST (JUNIPER)
Holy crap, my head is spinning.
And I’m starting to think it’s about to pop right off.
Disasters are supposed to come in threes. Not good things. Not things that keep delivering a life where I’m not panicked about money or whether Catness has a nice new bed to curl up in.
But here I am.
Alive and thriving with a surging business, fresh opportunities, and an incredible man.
Dexter Rory.
I don’t like to think about him too much in case I jinx it, but he creeps inside my head anyway.
When I’m at the store baking, when I’m serving customers, even when I’m hunched over my laptop crunching numbers that are healthier than they’ve ever been.
Again, all thanks to him.
It’s hard to imagine why I hated him at first. Or why I was so scared of this fakery when it turned out to be the best decision of my life.
I expected to get paid handsomely.
I didn’t expect him to thieve away another small piece of my heart with every searing kiss.
Most of all, I never expected to be happy.
The kind of happy where I can come up for air and breathe most days without choking on another mishap.
So happy that I sit on the new leather chair in my little office and spin because I can’t stop smiling.
So flipping happy I’ve gotten into the habit of imagining what meals I can make Dex when we get home like we’re so much more than awkward roommates hooking up.
Even if I know I’m heading for a wreck, he’s becoming my entire world.
And I think happiness might be pretty infectious, too.
“Junie?” Emmy offers me a grin I’m certain she wouldn’t have worn a month ago. Did I really smile so rarely? “Are you ready?”
“I’m always ready. What have you got?”
She rolls her eyes, though the smile melts away. “I mean the orders for your fancy golf course? It’s D-day.”
“Oh, right.” I pull the last tray of orange scones from the oven and flap a tea towel over the just-baked apple turnovers to cool them. “Any second now. Just need to box these beauties up.”
“Need some help?”
I glance at the register, where Jake and Sarah are holding down the fort. Sarah’s making coffee while Jake greets the next person with a goofy smile.
“If they don’t need a hand, that would be great.”
“They don’t need me,” Emmy says with a slight huff, tucking a curl of hair behind her ear. Her smile fades, and she leans against the side. “This might sound weird, but do you ever have days where you feel invisible?”