“I’m not going to fall off a chair and into a dashing man’s arms right under the mistletoe.”
I wiggle my brows. “You think I’m dashing?”
She rolls her eyes and steps down, without falling into my waiting arms. What a shame. I’m going to have to see about acquiring some mistletoe.
“Actually, you can you help me with thi—”
The door to the shop bangs and I jump in front of London, facing the intruder that’s…her dad?
“Dad!” London screeches. “What are you doing?”
“Just making sure the lock still works. I’d hate to let anyone unsavory in.” Her dad’s focus is on the door but his words are meant for me.
His threats are wasted. I may be reckless, and this time it might work in my favor. Now that I’ve found London, I’m not going anywhere.
Chapter 11
London
Mydadhasbeenstrangely quiet the whole time he helps me hang the picture of Mom. I’m sure he thinks something is going on between Sean and me. It isn’t. I would know, right? It’s just Sean being a flirt. It doesn’t mean anything. Just like the casual glances I’ve been shooting his way while he replaces the case. I’mnotchecking out his strong shoulders as he heaves the old one out of place. And I definitely don’t let my eyes wander in his direction when he lifts the hem of his shirt to rub the sweat from his brow and snag a glimpse of the six-pack he’s got under there. I’m simply…admiring my surroundings.
“Is that level?” Dad asks.
I drag my attention away from Sean to the picture.
Dad steps down from the stool, and my mom’s smiling face greets me. Instant tears flood my eyes. “It’s perfect.”
“Hey, no crying.” Dad drapes an arm around my shoulder and pulls me into him. “This is a happy occasion.”
I sniff. “These are happy tears.”
We stand silently, admiring the photo of Mom.
Dad places a kiss on top of my head. “Well, I’ve gotta go take your grandma to Bingo, don’t stay too late baking. Keep your phone next to you and text me when you leave.”
“Dad…” I warn.
“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t love you.” He squeezes my shoulder. How can I argue with that? He’s protective because he loves me. Seems logical. Also, he should see a therapist.
Which is why I’m surprised that he’s willing to leave me alone with Sean. They’ve barely said two words to each other, that I could witness. Their one and only conversation went something like this: “Need help?” “Nope.” “Kay.”
But it’s Tuesday. And every Tuesday, my dad takes my grandma out for dinner then bingo. He’s protective of her, too.
“I’ll see you at home,” he says before walking out the back.
The knowledge that I am indeed alone with Sean makes my pulse thrum at an unnatural pace. Not because I’m scared, but because I’m… I don’t know what I am exactly. Not excited. Right? I haven’t forgiven him for high school. Not that I’m holding onto the past like a child clings to a favorite toy. But the past is meant to be learned from. I won’t let him break my heart again. Which means I’ll have to keep him at arm’s length.
Long arm or short arm length?
Stop tempting me brain.
I shake my head. I’ll just get started on the pie for tomorrow while he finishes. I look at the picture one more time before I head into the kitchen, and do not, I repeat, do not glance over at Sean to see him wink at me.
It’s too quiet in the shop. I can hear every grunt and growl Sean makes as he shoves the new case into place. He curses a couple of times when he slams his finger and I try not to laugh at every sound of frustration coming from him. Every so often I catch a glimpse of him through the serving window and my pulse skitters.
What is wrong with me? I don’t have a thing for Sean. I would be reacting this way if any young, attractive man was in my bakery helping me out.
I’m just finishing up the pie filling when Sean steps into the kitchen.
