Page 77 of Never Let You Go

I want her to trust me enough to open up to me about that.

I’ve never had a real relationship with a woman. Lots of hookups, some repeats. Never had time or patience for a relationship.

And I know she’s leaving in a few months, but for the few months that I have her, I want to make her life better.

I want her to entrust her troubles to me.

So I can lighten her load.

And if that looks like a relationship, so what. Sounds pretty fucking awesome to me.

As long as I don’t get Skye hurt.

twenty

Alexandra

Between Christopher’s scent wrapping me in a daze of need, the sight of his hands working the dough when they could be working me, his clipped orders that are so far removed from his tone earlier, and his commanding eyes that see right through my clothes, I’m dying, and I think it shows.

I fumble the simple task of cutting the croissant dough into triangles. Christopher extends his hand to help me, then steps back. “Best for both of us if I leave you to it,” he growls.

I nod, words escaping me when I’m close to him.

My eyes follow his body as he retreats from me, and I fall into the best daydream.

“You okay, Alex?” Isaac asks, startling me.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

“You’ve been staring for five minutes,” he continues. “I kept track.” He comes closer to me. “Are you high?” he asks in a low tone.

Yeah, I’m high on our boss. “Wh-what? Are you crazy?” I scoff. I jump out of my daydreaming, and my gaze hones back on Christopher.

He’s talking on his cell phone, eyes shut, free hand running through his hair. “You need me to come jump-start your car…? Colton. Okay… How long’s he gonna be?” He glances at the clock on the wall, at the activity in the bakehouse. “Don’t worry about it, Grace. I got her,” he says. Then he hangs up and takes a deep breath and brushes his hand over his face.

“Want me to load these in the oven for you?” Isaac asks me. I eventually managed to cut, roll, and brush the croissants with egg wash without too much damage or waste.

“That’d be great, thanks,” I tell him while I make my way to Christopher. “D’you need my help with Skye?” I ask him.

He looks at me like he didn’t remember I was here at all. “Grace is going to be late. I—”

“I can take care of her,” I say. I avert my eyes from him, or I might jump him in front of everyone. His jaw clenches, and it takes all I have not to suck his bottom lip right now.

“You sure?” He looks around at the bakehouse, buzzing like a beehive at this time of day. Even though everyone knows what they need to do, Christopher’s presence is essential for everything to go smoothly.

Then, he locks eyes with me, and as his magnetism pulls me in, I teeter. “Of course,” I say, taking my apron off quickly. I need to put some distance between the two of us, at least for now.

“Can you make me a French braid like yours?” Skye asks when we’re in her bathroom.

“Sure.” I smile and get to work immediately, so she’s not late.

“Today is casting for the spring show,” she explains.

“Oh! Right.” With everything going on with Christopher, I forgot about that, and I feel guilty. That’s another reason why Christopher and I could hurt Skye. By getting wrapped into our own stuff. At least me. To the point of forgetting today is one important day for this little girl. “Are you nervous?”

“No. I’m wearing my good luck sweater.” It’s her bright orange sweater with small green turtles. It has a happy vibe and looks great with her complexion. It’s pilling along the sides, and I’m guessing Skye feels she needs good luck more often than not.

The sleeves are also getting short. Next year it won’t fit her. “It’s very pretty,” I say. Yeah, I’m not great with kids. In case anybody is still wondering, another reason not to have a serious relationship with a single dad. Seriously, what do I have to bring to the table?

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