Best Served Cold

“Sure. Can we get breakfast, too?”

“Fine, but I’m not splitting the pastries in two just because you can’t decide. It doesn’t work like that anymore.”

I poked my tongue out at him. “Then I’ll have two pastries. I don’t have anyone to watch the size of my ass for anyone anymore.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your ass.”

“Have you been looking?”

“Have you ever seen your ass? You’re damn right I’ve been looking.”

I turned and blinked at him. “I don’t know how to respond to that.”

He shrugged and pulled into the parking lot I always parked in. “You don’t have to. I know damn well you were looking at mine yesterday when I was steaming that wallpaper.”

“I was not!” My cheeks burned because, well, I had been.

“You looked at me like you’d never seen such a fine specimen of a man.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, ready to rip him a new asshole, but the twitch of his lips stopped me.

He was screwing with me.

He was pushing my buttons to get a reaction out of me.

I smiled my sweetest fake smile and unbuckled my seatbelt. “I’m not falling for that.”

“Falling for what?”

“You. Trying to get under my skin. You might be helping me because you want to, but we both know it’s because you feel bad about breaking my toe.”

“Again, you broke your toe.”

“Again, you—” I stopped and slammed the car door shut. “Nope. Still not doing it. I’m not letting you get to me that way. Nice try.”

I spun away from him as he laughed. My attempt to stomp off was thwarted somewhat by my inability to actually stomp. I couldn’t even step, but I added a huff as he caught up with me for good measure.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Chase fell into step beside me. A very slow step.

“I’d believe you if you didn’t sound like you weren’t trying to laugh.”

At that, he let the laugh go. “It’s not my fault you’re so easy to wind up. You’re like a match. One strike and you explode.”

“Are you saying I have a bad temper?”

“I’m saying you’re easy to wind up. Take from that what you will.” He shrugged. “You’re the one putting words in my mouth.”

“I’m not putting anything in your mouth.”

“You used to,” he replied with a smirk.

I smacked his arm, willing my cheeks not to flush. “You’re painting my walls. I don’t want to hear any of that shit.”

“I’m painting your cheeks red is what I’m doing.” He snorted and held open the door to the café.

My nostrils flared in annoyance, but he was right. Despite my inner plea, my cheeks were burning, and not from the hot sun.

I had once put things in his mouth.

It wasn’t my fault.

He’d always been wicked with his tongue. It was rude not to sit on his face.

I coughed and pushed that thought to the back of my mind.

Note to self: reopen the store as soon as possible and avoid Chase at all costs.

“What’d you do, honey?” Concern marred Jenna’s features as I limped to the counter.

“Dickhead over here broke my toe.” I pointed at Chase.

She did a double-take. “I didn’t know you were back together.”

My eyes widened. “We’re not!” I said a little too loudly right as Chase shook his head with his own denial.

Jenna’s sharp eyes flickered between us. “All right. If you say so.”

I snapped my jaw shut. “We’re not back together. I’d rather walk over hot coals on my hands,” I ground out.

Chase shrugged. “I’d skip the hot coals, but the sentiment is the same.”

“Ooookay.” Jenna smirked. “What can I get for you both?”

“I’ll have my usual, a cream cheese bagel, and a cinnamon roll, please.” I pulled out a chair and took a seat.

“Chase?”

“Coffee and the same. Thanks, Jenna.”

She raised her eyebrows at that, but when he shrugged, she turned and went back to work. “How are the renovations going, Rae, honey?”

“Well until he broke my toe. He’s painting for me today to apologize.”

“I thought you two didn’t talk.”

“We didn’t until he started annoying the crap out of me.”

“Then I broke her toe and here I am, torturing myself with her delightful, happy company,” Chase continued.

I flipped him the bird a little too enthusiastically.

“See?” he said to Jenna when she set the coffees on the counter. “She’s a little ray of sunshine walking around town.”

“I might not be able to walk, but I can still throw things,” I warned him.

Chase snorted and handed Jenna enough money to cover his order. “Yeah, but you have the aim of a drunken squirrel. I’m not exactly terrified.”

I hauled myself up and, glaring at him, handed Jenna a ten from my back pocket. “I don’t need an aim if I use a frying pan.”

Jenna handed us both our change and slid the bagged food toward us. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in denial.”