Page 2 of Leaving Lando

He's also way too bossy.

Which is why, even though I love being this close to him, and wish we could do it with neither of us wearing any clothes, I pull back. "I can't wear long sleeves when I'm working; it gets too hot in the bakery. And someone stopped me on the way here to talk, or I wouldn't have gotten cold."

He scowls at me again. "Bring a sweater to work with you. Or a hat and scarf and some gloves. Or all of the above."

"Yes, Dad," I say in my most sarcastic voice -- and let me just note that my sarcasm dial goes all the way to 11.

His eyes flash. I'm going to hear about that later, when we don't have an audience. For now, he lets it, and me, go, and moves around me to look in the bags. "What have we got today?"

I take a moment to savor his tight ass and strong thighs, hugged by faded denim. "Bag number one has double fudge brownies, snickerdoodles, chocolate chip cookies, scones, bear claws, and red velvet cupcakes. Bag number two has a few experiments."

"Right. One snickerdoodle ..." He draws it out and hands the rest off to the nearest detective to be divvied up among everyone else, then grabs the other bag. "Now let's see what we have in here."

I always bring snickerdoodles, because they were the first thing I ever baked for him -- though I didn't know, at the time, that they were for him. Jade had to come down to the station to ask for a restraining order, and my other sister, Quinn, and I went with her.

So I brought along a plate of cookies ... just to be neighborly.

And there was Lando, looking like he was not only present the day they handed out sex appeal, he also got the portions of everyone who failed to show. The fact that he's fifteen years older than me only makes him hotter. He's all man, and I have no doubt he knows exactly what he's doing in bed.

We had instant chemistry, but before we could act on it, Romero and Jade fell hard for each other, and now they're engaged. Which makes things a bit awkward. I’m not looking to settle down, and I’m certain Lando isn’t either. I’m saving my share of income from the bakery, and someday in the not too distant future, I’m going to hit the road.

So there’s no way we can be anything but friends with benefits — but if we manage to make a hash of it, we’ll hurt everyone around us. And Lando and I, we love our families. Neither of us wants to do anything stupid.

I’m ready to take the risk, though. He’s driving me mad with lust. If the man doesn't make his move soon, I'm going to make it for him.

"What's this?" he says, holding up a little round cookie.

"Chocolate-pecan shortbread drop."

"Mmm." He pops it in his mouth and chews, thoughtfully, taking his time. "Winner," he announces, and I flash him a delighted grin. Honestly, I don't bring anything to share that I don't already think is good ...but it satisfies me deep down, in a way I can't fully express, to have Lando appreciate my creations.

He samples, and approves, my Black Forest Pudding muffins, apple cider spice cookies, caramel shortbread, pumpkin crisps, and cranberry-ginger cake. "Amazing," he says when he's finished his last bite. "If they gave out Oscars for baked goods, you'd sweep 'em every year."

I flush with pleasure. Lando snags his jacket from his desk chair. "You done for the day?"

"All finished." My sisters and I start work early in the morning, so by mid-afternoon we've already put in a long day. We close at three, and spend another hour cleaning up and getting things set for the next morning.

"Good." He slings an arm around my shoulder. "Let's go get dinner."

As I wave goodbye to everyone, I catch a glimpse of Detective Stuart. He and Romero had a run-in that first time my sisters and I were here, and since then, he acts like the Adamos and the Callahans are all his sworn enemies. He's eyeing Lando and me, his mouth twisted.

I'm tempted to flip him off, or stick my tongue out at him, something mature like that. But I don't, because I've got better things to think about. Like the big, hot hunk of man at my side, and whether tonight will finally be the night we stop dancing around and get down to business.

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