“Fine,” I mutter begrudgingly, squeezing my eyes shut, then slowly opening them again to see utter delight on her pretty face.
“Good. I'll see you at my bakery at 5 AM sharp.”
“Seriously?” I call, chasing after her. “You’re going to make me get up at 5 AM? The wedding’s not until evening.”
“You know what,” she retorts with a smirk. “You’re right. Make it 4:30 just to be safe.”
Holly pushes through the door and steps outside, turning to face me as it slowly swings shut. Just before she vanishes behind the tinted glass, she points playful finger guns at me and winks in celebration of her victory.
I've never been more infuriated or turned on in my life.
Chapter 8
Holly
By the time I’m stumbling downstairs from my apartment into the bakery, I’m already regretting my demand for Bash to meet me so early. Normally, I wouldn’t set out until a little past six, but I just couldn’t resist torturing the handsome billionaire by making him get up extra early.
Of course, I forgot I’d be torturing myself, too.
Yawning, I flip on a few lights in the storefront and find the coffee machine. The sudden light makes stars burst in my vision like technicolor fireworks. I've barely taken a few steps into the shop before I hear a light knocking on the front door.
I freeze, suddenly very aware of the fact that I’m still in my kitten pajama pants and threadbare tank top. It wasn’t like I was trying to impress anyone in my big, lonely bed at night. I probably still had a chocolate ice cream stain from when I fell asleep watching Netflix.
Eyes darting for the door, I squint to see if anyone’s out there or if I'm going crazy. When the looming figure outside knocks again, I hesitantly shuffle forward, folding my arms over my chest as I unlock the door and open it.
Bash steps brusquely inside, setting down two hot coffees.
He looks handsome as ever, dressed more casually today than yesterday—though I use the term casually lightly. While yesterday he was dressed in a tailored suit and jacket, today he wore perfectly fitted slacks and a white button up, the sleeves rolled toward his elbows. I could only assume that was the most informal thing he had in his oversized closet.
“What are you doing here?” I ask grouchily. “It’s only 4:00. I still have a half hour before I have to deal with you.”
“Being on time is late, being early is on time,” he quips, thrusting one of the coffees into my hand.
I inhale the bitter roast, grateful and grumpy all at once. At least now I don’t have to brew my own.
Thanking him, I take a long sip and set the paper cup back down, smacking my lips. The coffee’s actually pretty good, not that I would inflate Bash’s ego further by saying that. We can both just barely fit in here right now with how big his head is.
“I have to change still,” I announce sleepily, heading back toward the stairs leading to my apartment.
I hear Bash march after me and whirl around, holding up a single finger to stop him. I press it against his muscled chest, if only to feel it one more time against my fingertip. Yep, still as chiseled as marble. If there’s one regret I have about our little dalliance yesterday, it’s that I hadn’t the time to fully admire his flawless body.
“No way, mister,” I warn. “I told you yesterday was a one-time thing. I'm going upstairs to change and you’re going to start packing the van. The keys are on the hook by the door and the boxes for delivery are stamped and ready in the fridge.”
With an innocent blink of his eyes, Bash lifts a hand in mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.” He smirks, heading to the fridge.
Shaking my head, I trudge back up the stairs. For a moment, at the very top of the staircase, I glance back at the closed door and almost wish Bash would disobey me, following me up. We certainly have time before the deadline for the deliveries rolls about.
Good lord. What am I thinking?
All of a sudden, I have no self-control. It’s all thanks to him and how amazing he made me feel. If he wasn’t such a good kisser this wouldn’t be an issue at all. Groaning, I make my way back into my apartment and throw on a comfortable pair of jeans and a blouse with the Holly Cakes logo on it.
On my way out, I stop by the picture of my mother and wish her a good morning as I always do. “You would not believe the crap I'm putting up with today,” I add with a sigh, reaching over to touch the corner of the golden frame fondly. “I'll fill you in on that later.”
Even three years after her passing, I still found myself talking to her like I would have if she was still here. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t absently reach for my phone to call her. Wherever she is amongst the stars, I hope she can hear me.
By the time I return downstairs, Bash has finished loading the van and is kicked back at one of my tables. He lounges, sipping at his coffee. For four in the morning, he looks impossibly peppy. It makes him even more irritating.
“You’re a real early bird, aren’t you?” Even I can hear the resentment in my voice, though it seems to brighten his already chipper mood.
“I have to be. I like to be in my office as early as I can to start the day. Also, just so you know, this is ridiculous. Do you always get up this early to make your deliveries? You can’t be both the baker and the delivery guy.”
“I prefer the term delivery woman. And I like my customers to see my face. I like them to know who I am and how much this bakery means to me.”
He frowns, nodding along though it’s still obvious he disagrees. “I could help you form a new business plan, you know. You can’t be a one woman show forever. There are other ways to keep your face present for your customers, even if you don’t want to expand your store or staff.”
“How do you know about that?” I ask suspiciously, taking a long sip of my coffee and glaring at him from over the rim of my cup.
“Bob Hunt, the banker that keeps calling you, is a friend of mine. He was at the rehearsal dinner last night and he mentioned he’s been in contact with you about expanding.”
I roll my eyes. Lord. Was there anyone Bash didn’t know?
“He’s not wrong,” Bash continues. “You’d gain a lot by franchising.”
“Isn’t that information supposed to be private?”
Bash merely shrugs.
Grumbling to myself, I grab my coffee and point to the van, hopefully cutting off conversation about my finances.
“Well, come on, delivery boy,” I call back to him, “no sense in slacking off when we could be getting work done.”
Chapter 9
Sebastian
It’s taken a whole hour of waiting outside the local grocery store to drop off a huge box of cookies for their weekly stock before Holly admits she made me show up at her bakery earlier than was necessary just to annoy me.
I sat back, sipping my now lukewarm coffee trying to hide my amusement. The joke is on her because I’m actually a morning person and it’s quite apparent she is not. My mood is growing more pleasant by the minute, however, Holly is getting more and more agitated.