Page 15 of Sugar Coated Secrets

Him?

“Sweetie, it’s not him. It’s…” She looks at me. “Can you come out here? He’s making me hot.”

My grin widens. Hopefully, Dulce appreciates her sense of humor.

There is a loud bang like something hit metal, then Dulce walks out, making my heart ache after beating so fast.

“Good morning, Dulce,” I say softly.

Her mouth pulls into a frown, and her eyes cut to Katie and then to me. “What do you need?” she says curtly.

If you only knew, sweetheart.

“I wanted?—”

The bell from the door cuts me off. She glances behind me, and her frown turns into a grin. “Oh, hi.”

“Good morning, beautiful.”

I turn around and come face-to-face with the dickhead cop who pulled me over. He just called her beautiful. What the fuck?

Looking back at Dulce, I see her wiping her hands on the pretty pink apron with Sugar Coated Sweets engraved on it around her waist with a blank expression.

“Excuse me,” she tells me dismissively, and then she flashes the dickhead a full smile. “How are you, Danny? I’ll be just a minute.”

She goes to the coffee machine without asking what he wants, so clearly, she knows. She grabs his fresh brew and prepares it with a familiarity that grates on my skin.

She is even more beautiful in the morning. Her face is free of makeup, but I spot a hint of lip gloss on her pouty lips. I can’t help noticing her form-fitting uniform and hate the fact that the dickhead cop has her attention.

The dickhead steps in front of me, blocking her from my view. He gives me a hard look. His eyes drop to the full sleeve of tattoos on both of my arms, comparing mine to his. Nothing can compare to the intricate detail of the track and the supercarfrom my first race, the skulls, and the shading from a celebrity tattoo artist. Then he zeros in on my Richard Mille timepiece on my wrist before reaching my eyes with a look of disdain.

I return his look, having zero fucks to give that he’s a cop. I’ll still kick his ass if he gives me even half a reason to.

“Here you go,” Dulce says in a soft voice, placing his coffee and food on the counter. A bagel with raisins, strawberry cream cheese, and a cream-filled pastry. I threw in some fresh macarons, too. If you don’t eat them while you’re out serving and protecting us today, put them in the fridge when you get home to keep them fresh.”

“Thank you,” he says. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble, but I appreciate it.”

I’m sure you do, asshole. Now pay and get the fuck out.But I’m stunned when I don’t see her pull out her iPad or him moving his hand toward his wallet. Fucking freeloader.

Digging my hand in my pocket, I pull out about five hundred bucks and move around him to slide it into the tip jar. “My donation to support those who ‘serve and protect.’ In case they can’t afford to feed themselves.”

“Damn,” Katie mutters. “It pays to race cars, huh?”

“Only if you win,” I reply with a flirtatious grin, “which I do.”

The two ladies in the back are drinking their morning coffee. One of them makes a tiny squeal and says to the other one, “I told you it was Ford Keller.”

I smile at them.

The blonde to the right says, “My friend thinks you’re hot.” Her friend elbows her in the ribs. “I’m sure you get that a lot, though.”

“I never get tired of it,” I say with a charming smile.

I turn my attention back to Danny the Dickhead as he grabs his food and coffee off the counter and tell him, “Enjoy your free breakfast.”

Danny flushes red, his throat turns purple, and he looks like he wants to say something but is biting his tongue. I’m sure he’s worried about saying something that will ruin his chances with Dulce.

His jaw tics as I stare him down. “Is that your Porsche outside?” He nods to the window. “It’s double parked.”

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