Page 99 of Broken Pact

Nana Jo believed in me. She believed I could do this—start my own bakery. Every time my mom voiced her doubt about me opening up my own bakery, Nana Jo would have my back. And it was the ultimate stamp of approval when she left me money specifically for a bakery when she passed.

I can’t just give up now. I feel guilty enough asking my brother for help. I thought about asking Jasper for help, but it seems like a big ask. It seems like the kind of thing you’d lean on your significant other for, a loophole to me doing everything on my own.

But is that really us? Are we significant others yet?

We started this thing as a ruse. A mutually beneficial scheme. And when I’m with him, it’s easy to pretend that it’s real. His feelings, his words, his actions. They’re all motivated by genuine interest in me. But it’s like once I leave the twenty-foot radius that is Jasper Devereaux, reality seeps in, reminding me that I’ve done this before. With other men and him. And they always end up the same way. At least with Jasper, we have an agreement, so I won’t be blindsided.

A knock on the front door startles me out of my thoughts.

I glance at the clock on the wall and see it’s a little after ten, which is too early for Mrs. Matthews to be picking up her order. Wiping my hands on a towel, I head to the front, plastering on a friendly smile.

But it’s not Mrs. Matthews waiting on the other side of the glass door. It’s Jasper, looking like a dark fantasy come to life in his faded black tee and worn jeans. My heart does a funny little flip at the sight of him.

I unlock the door and open it wide, my pulse quickening at the sight of him. God, if I close my eyes, I can almost imagine him inside of me again.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” I ask, aiming for casual but my voice comes out a little breathless.

He steps inside, his eyes doing a quick scan of the bakery before settling on me. "I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd stop by and see my girl." His voice is low and warm, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Your girl, huh?” I muse, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach at his words. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

He arches a brow, that tempting smirk pulling up the side of his mouth. “Oh, are we back to that now, baby?”

He steps closer, crowding me against the wall near the door and kicking it closed behind him. One hand finds my waist, his thumb rubbing gentle circles through the fabric of my apron.

“What are you doing?” I breathe out, my hands landing on his biceps, my fingers digging into his muscle.

“Reminding you who you belong to,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble I swear I feel all the way in my core.

His lips descend on mine, capturing me in a searing kiss that steals the breath from my lungs. It’s the kind of kiss that consumes you, so good that you’ll willingly let it just for another taste of euphoria.

His tongue sweeps inside, tangling with mine in a sensual dance that feels more like battle. It lasts an eternity and a second, this place where time ceases to exist and everything begins and ends with us.

I'm breathless when we finally part, my lips tingling from the intensity of his kiss. Jasper rests his forehead against mine, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at me.

“How about that, baby, mm? You remember now?” he murmurs, his voice rough.

My lips twist to the side and my fingers play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck as I pretend to think about it. “I don’t know. I think I might need another reminder.”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Don’t be a brat, baby.” He dips his head to drag his lips across mine once more, murmuring, “Did I forget to mention that I brought you lunch?” He holds up a brown paper bag next to us.

I arch a brow and laugh. “Have you been holding it this whole time?”

“You’re not very observant, baby,” he chastises with a grin, stepping back. “I wanted to see you and you need to eat.”

I glance at the clock on the wall. “It’s barely past ten in the morning.”

Jasper shrugs, that infuriatingly sexy smirk still playing on his lips. “Brunch, then. C’mon, baby, take a break and eat pizza with me.”

He grabs my hand, tugging me gently toward the counter where I stashed a couple stools. The simple touch sends a thrill through me, a reminder of how easily he affects me. I do my best to shake it off and pull out a couple of paper plates and napkins as he takes the food out.

“Is that from The Slice?” I grin, a little skip in my step.

The Slice is in downtown Rosewood. It’s consistently voted the best thin-crust pizza place in the region, and they happen to make some of the most unique pizzas I’ve ever seen. They have the classic topping options, of course, but they do a daily, sometimes weekly, specialty pizza. And their slices are gigantic, like twice the size of a normal triangle slice of pizza.

“Sure is,” Jasper says, opening the triangle-shaped pizza boxes. He points at each one. “Wisconsin, vegan mac ’n cheese, and the drunk rav.”

“I’ve tried the drunk rav before, and let me tell you vodka sauce and smoked raviolis really work on a pizza. You definitely need a disco nap afterward though.” I cut each piece in half so we both can try each of them.

---