And damn, he was so smokin’ hot, he nearly set her on fire. She hated to admit it. It just seemed wrong that such an arrogant jerk had pulled such a great hand in the deck of looks. Or maybe the looks had turned him into an arrogant jerk. Even hungover, the man threw off waves of confidence, dominance, and control. He had the whole this-is-my-world-and-you’re-inconveniencing-me thing down.
Luckily—or not, depending on how she looked at it—she wouldn’t have to worry about dealing with him. No, she’d be four hours away, working with ninety-year-olds who moved about as well as Hunt hobbled through the kitchen.
She heaved another sigh and muttered, “Can’t wait.”
Then lifted her hand to press Send.
The bakery door opened again, but this time it flew wide enough to let in a flurry of snowflakes. Ice wrapped around Julia’s body and stung her exposed skin. An involuntary gasp drew the air into her throat, and she winced, scowling up at whoever had disturbed the bakery’s warm cocoon.
The glass door shut behind a big man dressed in worn jeans and a hunter-green parka, the collar guarding his face from the cold. He wiped his boots on the mat and dragged off his knit cap. Sandy-blond hair stuck up and out and all over, and Julia’s stomach turned from ice to fire. Then Noah’s deep blue gaze swung around the bakery and collided with hers, and a knot tightened deep in her body.
She couldn’t read his expression. He looked both angry and relieved at the same time, which probably related to the new Maserati she’d stolen from his garage. The impulsive, fury-filled move had been so bad, it still felt good, and a devious little smile curled in her gut.
She swept a look over his big frame, her gaze pausing on his right boot where it barely closed, the laces hanging undone.
“That can’t be comfortable.” She met his gaze again. “There’s a reason elephants don’t wear shoes, you know.”
His eyes narrowed, lips parted.
“Good morning, Noah,” Jill Kelly, the woman who owned the bakery and who’d served Julia called from behind the counter, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say. “Your usual?”
“Hey, Jill.” His voice came out warm and smooth, and he pushed his hand through his hair, combing it back off his face. “Sure, thanks.”
He greeted a few other men seated at nearby tables with handshakes and small talk, like a regular small-town boy. Not at all what she’d expected. The athletes she’d worked with regularly traveled with entourages, bodyguards, and assistants. They rarely had time for small talk, and even then only made it with people who could move and shake the industry.
Julia turned off her phone and slid it into the pocket of her jacket. The humiliating call to beg for her job would have to wait.
When Noah turned back to her, Julia braced for his anger. She could take it. She’d taken worse. And, hell, what was he going to do? Fire her?
Still, as he stopped beside the table and stared down, the intensity of those Tahoe-blue eyes made her insides squeeze. Drake’s claim of Noah’s charisma jumped to mind, but she pushed it aside.
“You’re just in time. I was about to leave.” She brushed her hands free of crumbs and sat back, pulling the keys to his fancy SUV out of her pocket, and tossed them onto the Formica. “Now I won’t have to dump a Hamilton into that boat’s gas tank for the drive home. How’d you find me?”
“That boat has a GPS.” He stuffed his gloves into his pocket and curled his big hands around the back of a chair. “You’re damn lucky I didn’t call the cops.”
She snorted a laugh in the act of taking a sip from her tea and covered her mouth as she swallowed. “You’re lucky I left the doors to my own car unlocked so I could get another jacket. You could be facing manslaughter charges right now.”
Jill approached with a plate-size bear claw and a tall coffee. She set the food down, smiling at Julia. “You should have told me you’re a friend of Noah’s. I’d have given you a discount.”
“Aw, sweet. Thank you.” She dropped her chin into her hand. “Next time.”
“You bet.” Jill turned her gaze on Noah. “You’re looking…rugged. Is your foot giving you trouble?”
Rugged. Yes, that was a good description. Ruggedly disheveled. Ruggedly handsome. Ruggedly sexy.
Ruggedly asinine—she reminded herself.
“No more than usual,” he said, shooting her an easy smile.
Okay, so maybe he wasn’t all bad. And maybe he wasn’t the arrogant elite athlete she was used to. But he was still an ass.
“Yell if you need anything.” Jill patted his back and returned to the counter, where a mother and son peered through the glass case holding donuts and pastries.
Julia appraised the gargantuan bear claw. “You know how a donut goes straight to a woman’s hips?”
He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “I’m not all that concerned about my ass.”
She lifted her gaze to his deliberately. “That breakfast will go straight to your ankle the same way. Add that breakfast to your alcohol last night and your bedroom festivities, and hell, if this is your daily routine, I’m going to forget about finding another job. I’ll just sink every penny I have into betting against you getting to Aspen. I’ll be a damn millionaire.”