Page 190 of Forbidden Heroes

“Sure,” I say with a low laugh. “I think the friends of the bachelorette want to surprise the bride-to-be after the main cake or the other way around. No idea. All five of the ladies were laughing too hard to ask when they came in to make the order.”

The bell over the front door jingles. I turn, expecting to see the blonde-haired, green-eyed Casey Cook. She’s worked for me since day one and is never late.

Instead, it’s a different set of eyes that reach for mine.

“Miles!” I glance at the clock. “You're late. Everything ok down at the station?” Every time he comes in, it’s sharply at noon for his weekly dose of sugar for him and the crew.

I try for small talk but he only nods.

From behind him, Poppy flashes me a smile and gives me the thumbs up before dashing out the door.

Unaware of my silent conversation, he weaves through the tables dotting the front area of the bakery in his usual confidant gate. Strong legs encased in black and a navy blue short-sleeved Henley with Cherry Falls Fire Station of the left pec clings to perfectly taut muscles. I can practically see the ridges through the cotton of his shirt. And the way the hem of the sleeve grips his biceps...swoon.

The memory of his lips almost touching mine that one time sends a shudder through me.

“You want the usual today?”

Another nod.

This man.

“Fifteen sugar-glazed doughnuts coming right up.”

I prep his order, the whole time feeling his eyes tracking my every move. I step to the counter, ready for this to end in the same fashion as it always does each week. Why I haven't worked up the courage to ask him out, I don’t know. But I think step one, a conversation, would be nice first. Go from there. But I don’t expect his hand to come out and rest overtop mine.

Instant. Heat.

Miles moves closer until he’s standing right in front of me, only a counter of doughnuts and cookies between us.

My eyes flash to his and for a long second, we stand there. Not breathing. Or at least I’m not breathing.

“Can you make it twenty-five today?”

Husky as fuck. Like he has breathed smoky air his whole life and it’s left him with a raspy voice made to make women’s girly parts quiver. Which, he probably has, given his job title. Duh. But damn. Wicked sexy is right.

“Sure. Have a sweet tooth today?” I wish I could pat myself on the back right now for not sounding like a fluttering, breathy teen.

“Anything else with these doughnuts, Chief?”

“Nah, just the doughnuts will do for today. Hard habit to break. And please, it’s just Miles.”

I think that makes this officially the longest conversation we’ve held.

“Miles. What do you mean?”

He takes his order and heads for the door. “Cop. Ten years. Syn City. Before Cherry Falls and this gig.”

“And the plot thickens,” I mutter to myself as I watch his retreating back. And what a back.

For a second my mind doesn’t register the blur of black and red running down the road, but when my brain finally clicks on, I gasp, toss off my apron, and run for the door.

Two

Bela

“What the hell!” I’m out the door and pounding heels down the road. “Catch that dog!”

Miles spins just in time to catch the thief with his loot dangling from his mouth.

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