“It’s been a while, Lyn,” he says, his voice gravelly and low.
“It has. How are you?” I ask, still trying to wrap my head around the fact Jasper Kohlmann just walked through the door of my bakery.
“Oh, I’m doing well,” he replies, casually leaning a hip against my island. I can’t help but notice the way his polo shirt molds to muscular arms and stretches tautly over an equally firm chest. My throat is suddenly too dry, my eyes unable to move from the physique in front of me. The years have definitely been good to Jasper.
He takes a step forward, breaking the trance I seem to be under. My eyes fly upward, his narrowing as he advances. I take a step back, my butt hitting the refrigerators and keeping me from farther retreat. My eyes widen as he steps directly in front of me, his musky cologne infiltrating my senses like a bomb filled with remembrances of a time long past.
A flashback plays out, one with him advancing, his sweet scent hitting my nostrils. I swore he was going to kiss me that night, I saw it in his eyes. But the ding of a timer broke the spell we were under, causing us to jump apart. The moment we shared was never repeated, though it did many times over the years in my dreams.
He studies my face, taking in the bags under my eyes and the stress lines marring my forehead. I can imagine what he sees when he looks at me. The fatigue, the tension, and the apprehension that comes along with opening a new business in an unfamiliar town. I’m sure it’s all there in spades.
Suddenly, his eyes narrow even more, that familiar wariness filling his gaze. It takes me right back to school, where he was a constant nuisance and my biggest competition. Familiarity wraps around me, warm and comforting, just like it did back then. A tingle races down my spine, and I feel the interrogation looming.
“What do you have planned, Lyn? Why are you opening up a bakery right across from my restaurant?”
Chapter Three
Jasper
She gasps. It’s the sweetest sound that goes straight to my groin, much like it did back in school. The reminiscence about my body’s reaction to the noise is short-lived, however, when her dark eyes fill with fire. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Lyn. What are you up to?”
“Up to? What the hell are you talking about? What restaurant?” she asks, seeming a little flustered by my line of questions.
“Burgers and Brew.” I cross my arms over my chest and hold my ground, refusing to give even an inch.
Her eyes—the ones that are still the most beautiful shade of brown—narrow into slits moments before they widen, almost comically. “You own Burgers and Brew?” She inhales sharply.
“Yes,” I reply quizzically. Why would she ask that if she already knew I was the owner?
She turns to look toward the front, but with that white paper, it prohibits her from seeing out. I just stand in my place—which is entirely too close, considering I can smell the fruitiness of her hair—and watch as she processes something. She glances around from the front to her feet, her eyes searching, her mind wondering.
“Where’s Dustin?” she finally asks, knocking the wind out of my sails.
Dustin? Who the hell is Dustin?
Something blooms in my chest, hot and uncomfortable as hell. Is that…jealousy? I’ve never felt anything of this sort before, not even in high school when my girlfriend would flirt with other guys to make me envious. Suddenly, the thought of someone serious in Lyndee’s life doesn’t sit well at all. In fact, I fucking hate it, which is stupid.
I don’t know this woman, not the one she became. I knew her ten years ago when we were both young and dumb kids, anxious to graduate school and embark on the world before us. We were fueled by competition and a hint of sexual tension, though we never acted on the latter. There was that one time, the night I almost kissed her, but the moment was interrupted, never to nearly happen again.
Yet, the thought of this Dustin makes my blood run cold and an ache form in my chest. Of course, she’d have someone. Lyndee is a gorgeous, feisty sprite of a woman, and any man would be lucky to have her.
Wait, what?
No, she’s not. She’s a pain in the ass, or at the very least, a big thorn in my side. A hot as hell thorn, but a nuisance just the same.
Before I can ask any questions, she moves, pushing slightly against my chest and scurrying past me. “Dustin?” she hollers, heading for the front of the bakery. I’m instantly drawn to how bright and colorful the room is. It’s nothing like our restaurant, but it seems fitting for the type of business she’s opening.
“Who are you looking for?” I ask, coming up behind her and looking around.
Suddenly, we hear the back door slam. Lyndee brushes past me a second time, her body pressing against me as she rushes by. “There you are,” she sighs, stopping as she reenters the kitchen area. “Where did you go?” she asks the man who is using a walker to get around the space.
“I took the trash out and then needed a little air. The temperature is really dropping,” he replies, breathing labored just a bit.
“Why don’t you sit down? I don’t want you to overdo it,” Lyndee advises, moving across the room toward the motorized wheelchair I missed earlier.
“I’m okay,” he insists, yet moves toward the chair. She hovers nearby as he shifts the walker to the side and carefully sits down, taking a deep breath and relaxing once he’s settled.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asks, already heading for the massive refrigerator along the wall.
“Just a little water, I guess,” he says, finally turning his attention to me. His light brown eyes observe me with open curiosity, his cheeks pink from the cooler outdoor temperature, and his dark hair is in disarray. “Who’s this?” he asks, taking in my appearance in the doorway.
Lyndee hands him a bottle of water before glancing my way. “This is Jasper. I went to college with him.”
The eyes of the man I assume is Dustin light up. “Really? You knew Lyn back when she was all awkward and ugly?”
The comment surprises me greatly, as does the laughter spilling from his lips immediately after he says it. “Who are you calling ugly?” she gapes, hands on hips and staring at the man in the wheelchair.
He turns to me and says, “Notice how she didn’t dispute the awkward?” He smiles before taking a drink from the bottle.
“Well, even I will admit, I was a tad awkward when I was younger,” Lyndee grumbles, crossing her arms and giving the other man the stink eye.
He chuckles heartily before tucking his water into his side and moving my way. He stops directly in front of me and extends a hand. As I reach down and shake it, he says, “Dustin Gibson, Lyndee’s brother.”
His introduction catches me off guard. Admittedly, I wasn’t expecting the sibling connection, but now that I know, I see the resemblance. The same hair and eye color, the shape of their face, and the slightly upturned nose. They’re definitely related, which seems to ease the discomfort I’ve felt in my chest since the moment I heard Lyndee asking about Dustin.
“Jasper Kohlmann,” I state, returning the hand gesture. “I own the restaurant across the street.”
His eyes light with delight. “Really? Lyn and I were just talking about ordering out later this week.”