Page 142 of Bake the Town Red

Though I’ve taken a step back, I feel closer than ever to Dahlia. Like her thoughts transport themselves into my head. Telling me that no one from our building was invited. That there are no free tastings.

That she doesn’t like this woman.

Rita is the target for tonight.

My neighbor—from what floor, fuck if I remember—is the guest of honor today.

This is Dahlia’s surprise.

Why?

Why her?

If curiosity could kill, I’d be drowning in it. Choking on it.

It can’t, though. I’m alive. Alive and stalking Dahlia’s moves. My mysterious predator. I’m dying to read her mind. Listen to the whole story.

“Yes.” Dahlia flashes Rita a wide smile. With her sweet, round butt and the endless grace of a huntress, she nudges me aside. Walks through the swinging door. Beckons our neighbor to join us. “Tyler and I have been friends for forever …”

While she talks, Rita steps inside. Into the trap. The black-haired woman sneaks a glance my way. I offer her a reassuring nod. Doesn’t help. She crosses her arms over her chest in a nervous gesture. Disturbs her bottom lip.

Her instincts are on point. It’s unfortunate she ignores them.

“…And I thought, why not find new friends in the neighborhood?” Dahlia ushers Rita into her baking space. Another step closer to the room where Rita will die.

“It actually sounds nice.” The corners of Rita’s blue eyes soften. She believes Dahlia’s telling the truth.

Falls right into her trap. There to stay.

“Felt like the right thing to do.” Dahlia bats her eyelashes. “I might be moving in next to myfriend. Figured I’ll go ahead and get to know everyone.”

Dahlia will kill Rita in the next hour. Yet, here I am, unable to control my hard-on. My gaze lowers to Dahlia’s curves. One fist curls at my side, wishing I could undo Dahlia’s bun, wind my hand in her long, blonde locks, and yank on her hair.

She’ll be at my mercy. Will bend when I push her on the counter. Scram when I take and take and take.

“Yes.” Rita gets comfortable. Must be the sugar and chocolate scents. Her shoulders relax. Her eyes have stopped bouncing around the room. “Makes perfect sense.”

Amusement flickers in Dahlia’s eyes.

Mission accomplished. The target has been disarmed.

It’s fascinating, truly. She’s perfected it to an artform.

“You coming?” She quirks a blonde eyebrow at me.

Both women are inside the baking room already. Gazing at me expectantly.

“Yeah, Tyler, come on in.” Rita has a couple of inches on Dahlia. So when she stands behind her like she does now, I can see her batting her eyelashes at me. “We’ll wait for the rest inside. Just the three of us.”

And then she giggles.

She.

Giggles.

Well, well, well.

This is thewhy.

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