Page 112 of Things We Burn

Therefore, parking out front was typically all but impossible.

Unless you were Kane ‘The Devil” Rhodes, it seemed.

I almost jumped out of the car the second he put it in park, not wanting him to do the whole opening the door for me thing. Didn’t want to give him a chance to touch me, to look at me in that tender way. I almost sprinted to the entrance. Unfortunately, I could only manage a brisk walk in my condition, and even that was no match for Kane’s unhurried, long strides.

To my frustration, he made it to the entrance to the bakery first, opening the door for me. I didn’t look up at him.

I was sending all the messages that I wanted space, yet Kane did not give it to me. His hand rested on my lower back and stayed there as we walked into the bakery and lined up. My stomach was in knots. And it was also growling for pastries as the scent of bread, sugar and cinnamon perfumed the air.

Every morning it smelled slightly different, since every morning Nora, the owner of the bakery, would bake something dependent on her mood, or what she was craving at the time. Nora was warm, shy, pretty and friendly. She owned the bakery with her best friend Fiona, both of whom had tried to engage me in more than small talk, tried to befriend me and neither of them had seemed to give up, despite my not-so-subtle rebukes.

It was probably sensible to befriend people in what very well could be my new hometown, especially since both of them were mothers and likely knew more about babies than I did—which was exactly zero—but I didn’t have the strength. I couldn’t answer questions about my life before there. Couldn’t answer questions about my plans for after I had the baby.

Which was one of the many reasons I hadn’t even told my mother or sister about the pregnancy. For the very first time in my life, I’d stuck my head far into the sand of denial, and just now, it was being wrenched out.

I was mulling over all of this as we waited in line, doing my best to ignore Kane and his hand on me. He was lookingaround, seemingly casual, at ease, just as he had been in the past. But I caught the slight downturn of his lips, the tightness of his shoulders. He was on guard, tense. Whether it was because he was waiting for someone to recognize him, because it was the first time he’d been out of prison and in a public place for months or even if it was because of me, I couldn’t know.

“You the baby daddy?” was Fiona’s first question when Kane and I made it to the counter.

Fiona’s gaze was sharp, probing, wary and vaguely threatening. I’d never seen such an expression on the pretty Australian’s face. She was always warm, genuine, greeting me with a friendly smile. She looked at her husband with a much sweeter smile, one that made me want to look away from all the intimacy in it. Then she gazed at her daughter, who was always in her husband’s arms with utter adoration.

But I’d never seen the woman look even vaguely hostile.

Until now.

Now looking at Kane.

Clearly, she was not impressed with the muscles, the handsomeness. She wasn’t even intimidated by the new aura of coldness and danger that blanketed him. Nope.

She didn’t seem to look like she recognized him. And she hadn’t let on that she’d read any articles on who I was either. I’d been so sure that the entire world was closing in on me that I forgot there were plenty of people just living their lives, too busy to get caught up in tabloid scandals.

Thank God. I needed anonymity.

Kane, on the other hand, seemed to be … surprised at the blatant hostility without any room allowing for his fame. His face went blank, eyes a little wide before he recovered.

Kane’s arm was tight around my waist.

“Yeah, I’m the baby daddy.” Kane recovered quickly, meeting Fiona’s stare with an easy smile.

She tilted her head, not anywhere near charmed by the megawatt smile. “And you’ve beenwherethe past four months?”

My body stiffened, and I opened my mouth to cut in, if only to avoid the drama of the situation, and my stomach was actually rumbling.

“Babe,” a low voice interrupted Fiona’s interrogation.

I hadn’t noticed Kip rounding the counter until he was grabbing his wife and laying a kiss on her.

I’d never seen Kip without a backward baseball cap on, sandy-blond hair escaping from it. He was in paint-stained clothing most of the time or a tee sporting the logo of the construction company he owned. He was ridiculously handsome, tanned and had crinkles at the edges of his eyes that reminded me of Kane.

Though the logical part of me felt happy to see two obviously good people in the kind of love I didn’t think existed, it had been extremely hard to look at it. I’d averted my eyes and ignored the burn in the throat that had nothing to do with pregnancy heartburn.

Right then, with Kane at my side, it felt infinitely more uncomfortable. He was there. But he wasn’t. We were in front of two people who seemed utterly in love without complication or pain, and it made our issues all the more heartbreaking.

Kane was watching the two people essentially making out in front of us.

It was important to note that Kip had their baby, June, strapped to him in a baby carrier, and she appeared to be sleeping.

He let his wife go, but not before gently tucking her blonde hair behind her ear in an exceedingly touching gesture that somehow felt more intimate and precious than the make out session from moments ago.

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