Ah, young love.
It’s a little gross and completely envy-inducing, but I’m happy for my brother. He’s found something with Faith, something that looks like it’s going to last through the puppy love stage into something really special.
“You two are cute,” I say with a sigh, laughing when both Faith and Mick duck their heads. “Aw! And now you’re blushing. That is the sweetest thing ever. Couldn’t get any sweeter if I dusted you both in sugar. Now get out of here,” I continue, untying my apron and hanging it on the hook beside the door to the kitchen. “Enjoy your breakfast and your day off. I’ll save some cookies for you for later.”
“Thanks.” Faith waves as they head for the front door.
“Oh and tell Naomi I’ll get that broken cabinet fixed before tomorrow morning,” Mick tosses over his shoulder.
He’s not doing as much repair work anymore—he’s actually studying to become an EMT and even considering joining the fire department with his lady love so they can be heroic and fit and fabulous together—but he still takes care of any handyman thing we need ASAP.
He’s such a good man and absolutely deserves all the love and happiness in the world.
“Don’t worry about it. No rush.” I flutter my fingers their way as I pull off my hairnet and drop it in the trash. “Have fun!”
Faith and Mick step outside amidst a tinkle of bells, and then the bakery is quiet. With a sigh, I pour myself a cup of coffee and pluck a still-warm chocolate croissant from the case—my treat for getting everything ready fifteen minutes before it’s time to open.
I’m settling down at a table for two, trying to enjoy how nice it is to have more room for my plate, when the bells tinkle again.
“Forget something? You two always…” I trail off when I look up to find it isn’t Mick and Faith coming back through the door.
It’s Jamison Hansen.
And he doesn’t look happy.
Yummy, but not happy.
With his broad shoulders, beefcake body, shaggy brown hair, and chiseled jaw, Jamison is easily the most stunning man I’ve ever seen. Jake, his older brother and Naomi’s fiancé, is also quite good-looking, but Jamison is over-the-top, melt-your-panties-with-a-look gorgeous.
And he knows it, of course.
He has enough swagger for three men, and a smolder he unleashes upon the hapless women of Bliss River with practiced ease.
I’ve seen that smolder in action, though I’ve never been on the receiving end of it. Jamison’s only a year and a half older than I am but growing up he treated me like a baby sister—someone to be teased, picked on, and protected on the rare occasions when someone aside from himself dared to torment me, but definitely not to be smoldered at.
Which was just fine with me.
Jamison’s gorgeous, but he’s also a bad boy through and through.
I’m not interested in anything bad boys have to offer. I want home, family, and stability, not trouble.
And Jamison? He’s a trouble magnet. Big time.
“You’re alone, right?” he asks as he stalks over to the counter, casting a cautious glance at the kitchen door.
“Good morning to you, too.” I bite into my croissant, deliberately ignoring the question.
Jamison’s been acting weird for months. First it was some ancient thing about the night Naomi left town when we were kids, then…
Well, who knows what’s been making him weird since then?
But he’s definitely weird.
And it’s definitely annoying.
Dumb and annoying. There’s enough drama in the world already without stirring up more for no reason.
“No, seriously.” He strides past me to glance up the stairs toward Mick’s apartment. “I saw Mick and Faith leave, and Naomi isn’t here yet, right?”
“Your sleuthing skills are impressive.” I sip my coffee, not bothering to offer Jamison a cup. He seems wired enough as it is. “What can I help you with?”
“You can help me put a stop to the insanity,” he says, snagging the chair across from mine and spinning it around before straddling it in one graceful movement that I have to admit is sexy.
It’s easy to see why women throw themselves at Jamison.
He’s an impressive physical specimen, charismatic, and smells so good sometimes it’s hard not to lean in and take a big whiff of him. Even over the smell of my coffee and fresh pastry, his spicy, earthy, mouth-watering scent is…interesting.
It’s a smell that’s clean and dirty at the same time.
It could easily turn a woman’s thoughts in sexy directions. If she hadn’t heard Jamison burp the ABC’s or seen him run around with a pair of tighty-whitey briefs on his head when he was eight pretending to be Evil Lord Underpants.
But I heard the burps, and Evil Lord Underpants put a slug down the back of my dress at a town picnic. I am immune to Jamison’s allure, so immune I barely notice how nice his thickly muscled arms look crossed over the back of the chair.