Page 5 of Sebastian

The bell over the door chimed and Emma watched as Sebastian strolled in. His navy blue suit was tailored to perfection and she couldn’t help but stare at the way his chest and thighs pulled at the material as he moved.

“Hey there, Sprinkles. How about making me one of those delicious cortados?”

God, why did that nickname bother her so much? Maybe it wasn’t the nickname that was infuriating. Maybe it was the fact that every time the damn guy said it, she felt butterflies in her stomach. No, she wasn’t that type of woman. She wasn’t going to swoon over his big muscles, and his tight, tailored suits that hugged every inch of his body. Nope. Those gray eyes could look deep into her soul and she would remain strong.

His business tactics proved what type of man he was, and it was a type that she wasn’t interested in.

“You do know I have a real name, don’t you? I mean, I figure for someone who runs such successful businesses, you’d be able to read a sign.” She pointed to the large sign above the register, that clearly spelled out her name, and the name of the bakery.

Sebastian laughed. “I don’t know. You seem more like a Sprinkles to me than an Emma.”

“Mmm, right. Well, if you’re sticking with a nickname, I guess I’ll just have to come up with an equally obvious and obnoxious nickname for you. Moneybags? Mr. Millionaire? No, too on the money.” He laughed, and she continued on. “Ahhh…how did I not think of it before,” she looked him up and down. “Suits.”

Sebastian nodded. “Hmm, fitting. I do like a nice suit.”

“Yeah, that’s a little obvious when you live in a town of a couple hundred people in the middle of farms and cattle ranches, and still decide to dress in thousand dollar suits during the warmest spring on record.”

“Maybe I’m dressing to impress someone.”

“Oh, you’ve got your eye on someone here in town. Do tell! You know, I’ve got an in with Ms. Silviette. Now, I know she’s an eighty year old widow, but every morning after you leave, I have to listen to her talk about how delightful your ass is. So, I mean, she’s clearly interested.”

“I think I’m more interested in someone my own age.”

“Ahh, so fifty-ish?”

“Sprinkles, you wound me.”

“Fine. So? Spill the beans. Who is the lucky lady?”

He leaned in and swept his finger across her cheek. The touch made her knees weak, and she tried to hide the fact that she was holding on to the counter for dear life.

“You had an eyelash there. Care to make a wish?” He held his finger up in front of her mouth and before she could stop herself, she was blowing her breath across his skin. “Want to tell me what you wished for?”

“It’s bad luck to do that,” she said with a slight smile. “But, if you must know, it had to do with a certain new member of our community no longer making obnoxious coffee orders first thing in the morning.”

“Well, good thing for me that it’s the afternoon.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “So, just the cortado then?”

“Yep. You know, I did actually come in here for something other than coffee and a fun flirt.”

“Oh my god, Suits. We. Were. Not. Flirting.”

“Sure, Sprinkles, whatever you say.” He winked at her and she hated how the corner of her mouth refused to do anything other than turn upwards in a smile. She immediately faked a cough so she could hide it. “Do you need something to drink?”

His fake concern was mildly amusing. “No, I’m fine. Get on with whatever you need to say.”

“I was thinking about this building. I’ve been doing a lot of investing around Clarence County and I thought about adding it to my portfolio. I can’t seem to find any information about who holds the mortgage, though.”

And just like that, she was snapped back to reality. Running her hands down her apron, she forced herself to walk to the coffee machine and start his order.

“That’s because there isn’t one, and the building is not for sale,” she snapped.

“Oh? Well, who do you pay rent to? Maybe I can see if they are interested in selling.”

“No.”

“No…what? You don’t know who you pay rent to?”

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