Page 47 of Sweet Southern Heat

“Landon,” I said breathlessly, and his smile grew. I cleared my throat and tried to compose myself. “What can I get for you?”

“I need a half dozen lemon blueberry muffins please.” My heart stopped, and my breath caught in my throat. That was what I’d given him the first time I tried to send him away with a peace offering. According to Bobby, he never touched them, so why was he ordering them now?

“Okay,” I replied, turning my back to him to grab a box. I took my time slipping the cupcake insert into it as I gathered my wits. It didn’t mean anything. The muffins were popular, and I only made them twice a week. That was all it was.

I turned around, and without sparing Landon another glance, I opened the case and began filling the box. I closed it, rang him up, and told him the total. He slid his card to me, and I swiped it. Still, I wouldn’t look at him. Icouldn’t.

“Thank you,” he said when I handed the box to him. His calloused fingers closed over mine, and the warmth from hishands seeped into my skin. Finally, I looked up. We watched each other, our gazes locked for a moment as he cradled my hands in his. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a heavy swallow. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but the bell chimed again, alerting me to another customer’s arrival. I slid my hands from his and dropped the box into his waiting palms.

“Enjoy,” I offered with a shaky smile. He gave me one last lingering look before nodding and walking out of my bakery.

Landon returned the next day at the same time. The shop was empty save for the woman in the corner working from her laptop with a large coffee and mostly untouched croissant cooling on her plate. He missed the morning rush by mere minutes. My gaze flitted down his body appreciatively. He wore a plain white tee stretched over his broad shoulders, the muscles of his sculpted chest visible beneath the stark material. His jeans sat low on his hips and hugged his ass like a second skin. It wasn’t fair of him to stroll in here looking like that, especially since I knew just how good he looked underneath it all. I had traced every dip and hard ridge of his body with my fingers and explored most of them with my tongue.

His mouth turned up in a satisfied grin when he noticed me checking him out. Heat rose to my cheeks, and I wanted to hide, but it was too late. He was already at the counter ready to place his order.

“How can I help you?” I asked cheerily. He raked his gaze over me from my face to my torso and back up. There was a devious tilt to his lips and a quirk to his brow that suggested a myriad of things he’d like myhelpwith.

“Six éclairs, please.” I blinked at him, and stunned silence filled the space between us. Had I heard him correctly? I cleared my throat and moved to the case.

“Six éclairs, you said?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed. I began filling the box with shaking hands, and an odd sense of Deja Vu washed over me.

It was silly. He probably didn’t even remember the items I'd given him as peace offerings a couple months ago. It wasn’t like he’d eaten any of them. Maybe it was a coincidence that he’d requested the items I’d given him back then in the same order and in the exact same quantity as before.

“Thank you,” he said once he completed his purchase. This time, I placed the box on the counter for him to pick up, so I didn’t risk touching him. I wasn’t sure I could handle the feel of those calloused hands on mine again, those long, deft fingers brushing against my knuckles. All that did was remind me of how they felt on my body. It was pure torture.

Like clockwork, he was back, at eight thirty sharp the next day. Sauntering toward the counter, he shoved his hands in his pockets and made a show of looking at the menu posted above my head. I held my breath as he weighed his options. This was the moment of truth.

“This feels like a cinnamon roll kind of day,” he said finally, leveling his gaze on me. I gulped as I tried to clamp down the emotion welling in my chest. “I haven’t tried them yet. I wish I had because they look delicious.” I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him. Remorse filled his eyes as he studied me. This order felt like an apology. He’d thrown my cinnamon rolls in the dumpster, not even bothering to take them to Murphy’s like he had the previous treats. That was what had pushed me over the edge. I’d confronted him that night at the garage. It was the moment everything had changed.

This time when he paid his bill, he lingered. His mouth opened and closed as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. He shook his head and muttered his thanks before walking out the door. I sagged against the counter and buried my head in my hands. What was this man doing to me?

Chapter 43

Olivia

It was a quarter to nine,and the bakery was buzzing with activity. Nina worked the register while I bagged pastries and filled coffee cups. I was too busy to let the disappointment of Landon’s absence weigh me down. Stupidly, I had expected to see him again this morning. He’d been here the past three days at the same time. I guessed it was too much to hope that he would return for the fourth day in a row.

An ache formed behind my ribs, and I forced a smile as I handed Dr. Lincoln his coffee. I didn’t pay much attention to the customers coming in and out, so when the bell chimed for what felt like the hundredth time this morning, I didn’t bother to look up. All the chatter in the shop faded away, and a hush fell over the small crowd. My skin prickled with awareness, and I lifted my gaze to the entrance.

Landon stood at the threshold, a bouquet of purple, pink, and yellow wildflowers clutched in his hand. It was just like the one he got me for our first date. I sucked in a sharp breath as he slowly approached, all eyes trained on him. But he didn’t notice a single one. He only had eyes for me.

“Mornin’, Olivia,” he said, stopping directly in front of me.

“Good morning,” I squeaked out. “What can I get for you today?” He glanced down at the bakery case, zeroing in on the trays of cookies.

“How about a dozen macaroons,” he said, his eyes searching mine.

I released a shaky laugh, and a wobbly smile curved my lips. “You mean macarons?” I asked, and he chuckled.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, “macarons.”

“Okay,” I replied, preparing his order with shaking hands. This was no longer a coincidence. His visits to the bakery meant something. These orders were symbolic. They represented a time when we were at odds, and I was trying to bridge the gap between us. Was that what he was trying to do now?

“Can I get you anything else?” I asked, trying to mask the hope in my voice. He watched me for a moment, his gaze searching mine before he replied.

“Yes. There’s just one more thing I need from you.” I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. I merely waited. “A date. A proper one, in town, where everyone can see.”

---