Rules of Contact
Page 80
“I haven’t seen much of you lately,” she said.
He shrugged. “Been busy.”
“I’ve been meaning to come by the shop and visit, but things have been crazy hectic at the bakery, too.” She studied him. “How about I bring pastries by in the morning? And I’ve never brought you coffee before. How about some coffee? How do you take it? Black, or with cream and sugar? Or maybe you like lattes or espresso? What do you drink in the mornings?”
He had no idea what she was talking about. “Uh, just regular coffee. Black.”
“Okay. I make a really great cup of coffee. I’m surprised you haven’t come into the bakery, since it’s so close to the auto shop. Most everyone who works around here pops in.” She pressed the unlock button on her key fob, then opened the back door and took the boxes from him.
Man, she really could talk. He’d noticed that the couple of times they’d been together in social situations. Not that it was a bad thing, but for someone like him who lived mostly isolated, all that conversation was like a bombardment.
But he liked it. The one thing he missed the most since his self-imposed isolation was conversation. And Megan had it in droves. He just wasn’t all that good at reciprocating.
After she slid the boxes in, she turned to him. “What’s your favorite pastry? You know, I’ve dropped cupcakes off at the auto shop. Have you eaten any of those?”
He was at a loss for words. He always was around her. A few of his friends had fixed the two of them up before. Once at Logan and Des’s dinner party, then again at Carter and Molly’s wedding. They’d danced. Had some conversation. Mostly one-sided, since Megan had done all the talking.
He wasn’t interested.
Okay, that wasn’t exactly the truth. What heterosexual male wouldn’t be interested in Megan? She was gorgeous, with her silky, light brown hair and her warm chocolate eyes that always seemed to study him. She also had a fantastic body with perfect curves.
But he was here to work. That was it. He didn’t have time for a relationship.
He didn’t want a relationship, no matter how attractive the woman was. And Megan was really damned attractive.
“Brady?” she asked, pulling his attention back on her. “Cupcakes?”
“What about them?”
She cocked her head to the side. “Oh, come on, Brady. Everyone has a favorite pastry. Cream puffs? Donuts? Scones? Cakes? Bars? Strudel?”
He zeroed in on the last thing she said. “Apple strudel. I used to have that from the old bakery when I was a kid.”
She offered up a satisfied smile. “I make a killer apple strudel. I’ll bring you one—along with coffee—in the morning.”
He frowned. “You don’t have to do that.”
She laid her hand on his arm and offered up the kind of smile that made him focus on her mouth. She had a really pretty mouth, and right now it was glossed a kissable shade of peach.
He didn’t want to notice her mouth, but he did.
“I don’t mind. I love to bake. But now I have to go. Thanks again for saving the cakes. I’ll see you tomorrow, Brady.”
She climbed into her car and pulled away, leaving him standing there, confused as hell.
He didn’t want her to bring him coffee. Or apple strudel. Or anything.
He didn’t want to notice Megan or talk to Megan or think about Megan, but the problem was, he’d been doing a lot of that lately. For the past six months or so he’d thought about the dance he’d shared with her. The laughs they’d enjoyed together and her animated personality. She had a sexy smile—not the kind a woman had to force, but the kind that came naturally. She also had a great laugh and she could carry a conversation with ease. And that irritated him because he hadn’t thought about a woman in a long time.
Ever since his brother had died, he hadn’t wanted to think about anything or anyone. All he’d wanted to do was work, then head upstairs to his one-room apartment above the auto shop, eat his meals, and watch TV. And on the weekends he’d do custom bike painting. Keep his mind and his body busy so he wouldn’t have to think—or feel.
Women—and relationships—would make him feel, and that wasn’t acceptable. He’d noticed that right away about Megan, noticed that he liked her and maybe—
No. Wasn’t going to happen—ever. He needed to get her out of his head.
He only had time for work and making money. He had a dream he was saving for.
And now he barely had time for lunch, because he had a Chevy to get back to.
TWO
Megan grabbed her purse and the cupcakes she’d made for tonight’s book club meeting. She was already late because she’d had so much baking to finish for tomorrow, and she’d lost track of time. Then she’d had to shower to clean off the bakery scent—a flour, sugar, and butter combo. Though the girls probably wouldn’t mind that.
She drove over to Loretta Simmons’s bookstore, noting that the street was filled with her friends’ cars and she was the last to arrive. Typically, she was early. Her pulse raced as she got out of her car and pushed through the door.
She loved this bookstore, which took up the entire first floor of the renovated old mercantile in downtown Hope. Loretta had returned to town after her divorce last year and had leased the first-floor space in the historic building Reid McCormack had gutted and rebuilt.
Now it was the Open Mind bookstore, and lately it had become her favorite hangout. It not only had tons of books, but also coffee and tea, plus wireless and an electronics bar for people who had e-readers or laptops and wanted a quiet place to work or study. It was perfect for voracious readers, and with the local college nearby, it was also a great place for the students to come by at night to read or study.
Megan wandered to the back and found her friends set up at their regular spot.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” she said.
Her best friend, Samantha, looked up from the book in her lap, her long blond ponytail twirling back and forth as she lifted her head. “You made it.”
“Yes, finally.” She laid the boxes on the round table in the center. One of the things she loved was all the comfortable seating areas, spaces where groups could come together to meet. This one had several cushioned chairs, a sofa, and a table.
“We’re so glad you’re here,” Loretta said. “And not just because of the cupcakes.”
“Well, sort of because of the cupcakes,” Chelsea said. “But I brought wine, so we’d have survived if you hadn’t made it.”
He shrugged. “Been busy.”
“I’ve been meaning to come by the shop and visit, but things have been crazy hectic at the bakery, too.” She studied him. “How about I bring pastries by in the morning? And I’ve never brought you coffee before. How about some coffee? How do you take it? Black, or with cream and sugar? Or maybe you like lattes or espresso? What do you drink in the mornings?”
He had no idea what she was talking about. “Uh, just regular coffee. Black.”
“Okay. I make a really great cup of coffee. I’m surprised you haven’t come into the bakery, since it’s so close to the auto shop. Most everyone who works around here pops in.” She pressed the unlock button on her key fob, then opened the back door and took the boxes from him.
Man, she really could talk. He’d noticed that the couple of times they’d been together in social situations. Not that it was a bad thing, but for someone like him who lived mostly isolated, all that conversation was like a bombardment.
But he liked it. The one thing he missed the most since his self-imposed isolation was conversation. And Megan had it in droves. He just wasn’t all that good at reciprocating.
After she slid the boxes in, she turned to him. “What’s your favorite pastry? You know, I’ve dropped cupcakes off at the auto shop. Have you eaten any of those?”
He was at a loss for words. He always was around her. A few of his friends had fixed the two of them up before. Once at Logan and Des’s dinner party, then again at Carter and Molly’s wedding. They’d danced. Had some conversation. Mostly one-sided, since Megan had done all the talking.
He wasn’t interested.
Okay, that wasn’t exactly the truth. What heterosexual male wouldn’t be interested in Megan? She was gorgeous, with her silky, light brown hair and her warm chocolate eyes that always seemed to study him. She also had a fantastic body with perfect curves.
But he was here to work. That was it. He didn’t have time for a relationship.
He didn’t want a relationship, no matter how attractive the woman was. And Megan was really damned attractive.
“Brady?” she asked, pulling his attention back on her. “Cupcakes?”
“What about them?”
She cocked her head to the side. “Oh, come on, Brady. Everyone has a favorite pastry. Cream puffs? Donuts? Scones? Cakes? Bars? Strudel?”
He zeroed in on the last thing she said. “Apple strudel. I used to have that from the old bakery when I was a kid.”
She offered up a satisfied smile. “I make a killer apple strudel. I’ll bring you one—along with coffee—in the morning.”
He frowned. “You don’t have to do that.”
She laid her hand on his arm and offered up the kind of smile that made him focus on her mouth. She had a really pretty mouth, and right now it was glossed a kissable shade of peach.
He didn’t want to notice her mouth, but he did.
“I don’t mind. I love to bake. But now I have to go. Thanks again for saving the cakes. I’ll see you tomorrow, Brady.”
She climbed into her car and pulled away, leaving him standing there, confused as hell.
He didn’t want her to bring him coffee. Or apple strudel. Or anything.
He didn’t want to notice Megan or talk to Megan or think about Megan, but the problem was, he’d been doing a lot of that lately. For the past six months or so he’d thought about the dance he’d shared with her. The laughs they’d enjoyed together and her animated personality. She had a sexy smile—not the kind a woman had to force, but the kind that came naturally. She also had a great laugh and she could carry a conversation with ease. And that irritated him because he hadn’t thought about a woman in a long time.
Ever since his brother had died, he hadn’t wanted to think about anything or anyone. All he’d wanted to do was work, then head upstairs to his one-room apartment above the auto shop, eat his meals, and watch TV. And on the weekends he’d do custom bike painting. Keep his mind and his body busy so he wouldn’t have to think—or feel.
Women—and relationships—would make him feel, and that wasn’t acceptable. He’d noticed that right away about Megan, noticed that he liked her and maybe—
No. Wasn’t going to happen—ever. He needed to get her out of his head.
He only had time for work and making money. He had a dream he was saving for.
And now he barely had time for lunch, because he had a Chevy to get back to.
TWO
Megan grabbed her purse and the cupcakes she’d made for tonight’s book club meeting. She was already late because she’d had so much baking to finish for tomorrow, and she’d lost track of time. Then she’d had to shower to clean off the bakery scent—a flour, sugar, and butter combo. Though the girls probably wouldn’t mind that.
She drove over to Loretta Simmons’s bookstore, noting that the street was filled with her friends’ cars and she was the last to arrive. Typically, she was early. Her pulse raced as she got out of her car and pushed through the door.
She loved this bookstore, which took up the entire first floor of the renovated old mercantile in downtown Hope. Loretta had returned to town after her divorce last year and had leased the first-floor space in the historic building Reid McCormack had gutted and rebuilt.
Now it was the Open Mind bookstore, and lately it had become her favorite hangout. It not only had tons of books, but also coffee and tea, plus wireless and an electronics bar for people who had e-readers or laptops and wanted a quiet place to work or study. It was perfect for voracious readers, and with the local college nearby, it was also a great place for the students to come by at night to read or study.
Megan wandered to the back and found her friends set up at their regular spot.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” she said.
Her best friend, Samantha, looked up from the book in her lap, her long blond ponytail twirling back and forth as she lifted her head. “You made it.”
“Yes, finally.” She laid the boxes on the round table in the center. One of the things she loved was all the comfortable seating areas, spaces where groups could come together to meet. This one had several cushioned chairs, a sofa, and a table.
“We’re so glad you’re here,” Loretta said. “And not just because of the cupcakes.”
“Well, sort of because of the cupcakes,” Chelsea said. “But I brought wine, so we’d have survived if you hadn’t made it.”
