What If

No way am I going to make it until six o’clock.

As if on cue, Helga comes into the back room with a broad smile on her face.

“You have customer.” She tips her head at the doorway. “He wants you to wait on him.”

My belly flutters as I lean over and see Torin standing at the counter looking back at me.

“God,” I manage, standing and facing Heather. “Do I have anything on my face?”

I brush my fingertips over my cheeks.

“Just the glow of budding love,” Heather jokes, but I don’t find it funny.

“Seriously.” I take a deep breath and clear my throat, hoping I have a voice left.

When I get out to the counter, Torin is leaning forward, arms locked on the edge, staring me down.

“I’m sorry,” he starts. “I couldn’t wait. Six o’clock was too long. I probably shouldn’t tell you that, but I want you to know what’s going on in my head, baby. And vice versa, so don’t ever be afraid to tell me anything. Okay?”

“Okay.” I bite into my bottom lip and urge my legs to carry me the last few steps forward to the counter. “So, did you want something?”

I look down at the bakery case.

“Yeah, I want something,” he answers, and I’m dizzy looking into eyes that look like they are fucking me in his mind.

“What are you thinking about?” I choose my words carefully.

He leans farther over, closer, so only I can hear.

“I’m thinking about how your pussy leaked all over my face. How I can still taste you. Smell you. You’re driving me crazy, baby.”

Wetness immediately drenches my panties, and my ovaries twitch. The fact that we didn’t use anything last night is still on my mind and all the ‘what ifs’ race around in my brain.

“Sorry?” I reply as Torin stands and shoves his hands down in the front pockets of his jeans.

Today he’s wearing a light blue button down, untucked, arms rolled up, and I stare as he runs his tongue over his front teeth.

“I’m just going to sit here and wait for you. Do your work, take your time, but I’ll be right here. When you get off your shift, I’ll take you home. If you have work to do, I’ll sit there and watch you until you’re done. I can’t concentrate, baby, so you’re stuck with me I’m afraid.”

“You go.” Helga comes out of the back room, pointing first at Torin, then at me. “Nothing more for her to do here,” she says to Torin, and he looks back at the stout, Russian woman with a twinkle in his eye. “Go. Get out. I don’t want you here, cluttering up the place.” Another wave of her hand and I shake my head.

“Sorry, she has a way—” I apologize, but Torin shakes his head, pulling his lips together with a shrug.

“It’s okay. I like her. I can tell she cares about you, so she’s okay in my book.”

I retreat into the back room and strip off my apron, hang it up grabbing my purse, looking over to see Heather alternating between glances at Torin and me.

“Jesus,” she whimpers, rolling her eyes again. “He’s perfection. A volcano of testosterone and a bucket of yummy.”

“Stop,” I whisper.

“Have fun. Call or text me in a bit if you need me.” Heather adds as I force my feet forward and wonder just exactly what today will hold. “But I hope you don’t need me.”

As I come out and around the counter, Torin slides his fingers into mine. “You hungry?”

I shake my head. “No. Helga always brings food for me. She thinks it’s one of her many jobs not just to employ me but to feed me, manage my social life, protect me from all threats foreign and domestic…”

Torin squeezes my hand while pushing the door open with the other. “Well, I appreciate her effort Blossom. But I’m afraid those duties are going to be taken over by someone new.”

He winks and flashes me that smile, and I think how sexy a chipped tooth can be.

Chapter 8

Torin

“I thought you had work today?” Jessie asks as I lead her down the sidewalk outside the bakery, my hand on the center of her back and giving a death glare to a dude who eyes her tits as he walks by.

I can see that is going to be an issue. Fuck yes, her rack is epic, but it’s for my eyes only, and it may just become my full-time job keeping jokers’ eyes off what’s mine. The way she’s paired the red dress with the jean jacket and a floral pair of Doc Marten’s she reminds me of my orchids. She’s soft, delicate but tough and unique.

“I did. Got a lot done. Couldn’t stop thinking about you, so it was a futile effort. I might have to go back in later, I have a few things hanging out in the wind, but I needed to spend some time with you first.”