Page 29 of Rent Free

I crossed my arms, so ready to see what happened next.

“You went on a date with my sister,” she moaned. “How could you do that after everything I told you?”

And, before my eyes, she smiled while still managing to sound like she was crying. “Really?”

“Okay, good,” she said. “She just told me that y’all were serious, and I didn’t know what to do or say.”

She winked and walked away, giving me the middle finger.

I closed the door on her retreating back, then went to the phone on the counter and pulled up the last ten minutes of video feed.

Then I did what any responsible adult would do… I sent it to my family.

Even my dad.

Throwing the phone on the first available flat surface, I got dressed in a pair of cut-off jeans, red Birkenstocks, and a loose t-shirt that had ‘Pie Hard’ on it. Then snatched my phone and my keys.

I then got into the car and drove the twenty-seven minutes it took me to get to Sunnyvale where Maven had opened her bakery after everything that had gone down with the man who raised her.

Letting myself in through the back, I got started on the meal prep for the next day, only coming out to where Maven was manning the front counter when I heard her calling my name.

Maven jerked her chin toward the side, and I allowed my gaze to move, nearly groaning when I saw who awaited me.

Atlas.

Of course, he would come.

I picked up a rag and started to run it over the nearly empty display case.

“Yes?” I asked, trying hard not to look up.

“I heard you were talking shit about me.”

Dammit. I looked up.

I blamed it on his smooth, deep, velvety voice.

“Did you get everything, or do you need me to repeat it?” I replied caustically.

Atlas Carter’s eyes narrowed on me, and despite my anger at him being in my store, he still had the power to take my breath away.

Atlas Carter was heart-stoppingly gorgeous.

Tall, around six-foot-one or so, with wavy brown hair that looked like it wanted to curl when it rained, brown eyes that reminded me of my favorite hot chocolate drink from the coffee shop down the road, and a build that could break a woman in half if he wanted.

Today he had the makings of a beard, though I was sure by Tuesday at the latest he would have it shaved back into tip-top shape.

The man had a routine. If he was working, his beard would be kept clean. Short, tight lines, and well man-scaped.

However, if he had more than two days off, he would let the beard grow out.

These days were my favorite.

Not only because of the beard, but because of the glasses he had perched on his nose.

The first time he’d come in wearing them, I hadn’t recognized him out of the corner of my eye. But then he’d said something nasty to me, and my heart had skipped a beat.

I didn’t know what it said about me that I liked that he wasn’t nice to me.

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