Page 8 of Hunter

After looking her over once more, etching her face into my fucking bones, I turned and walked away.

Sadie Morgan was pure sunshine.

I felt a little unbalanced for the first time since I was seventeen. But from the first moment I laid eyes on Sadie, I’d known one thing for certain.

She didn’t belong to this place, this bakery, this town.

Sadie belonged to me.

She just didn’t know it yet.

3

SADIE

The alarm on my cell buzzed, and I blinked up at the ceiling, already wide awake even though it was only six o’clock in the morning.

I’d barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I pictured Hunter.

He hadn’t said much when he was at the bakery yesterday, but that hadn’t lessened his impact. I didn’t think any woman would blame me for wondering about the tall, broad-shouldered biker.

He struck me as the strong, silent type. The kind of man who didn’t need to say much because just being there was enough. At least for me.

It wasn’t because I’d been scared, except maybe for my reaction to him because I had never felt a magnetic pull like this toward a guy before. I hadn’t been able to get his tall, muscular body out of my head. Or his thick black hair, beard, and kissable lips.

And then there was his piercing amber gaze. I’d never seen eyes quite the same color before. They were wild and sharp, almost animalistic. Like a lion sizing up something he wanted. Not that I actually thought he wanted me when he could probably have any woman he set his sights on.

He was easily over a decade older than me and drop-dead gorgeous. Not the kind of man who noticed someone like me. But for a second, when our fingers had touched while I handed over his coffee and cookie, I could have sworn that I caught the barest flicker of something.

He’d only been at the bakery for maybe fifteen minutes, but that had been just long enough to set my entire world spinning. And it felt as though it hadn’t stopped yet.

I was too inexperienced to know what my type was, but I never would have thought it to be a tatted-up biker. We were so different; even calling us opposites didn’t seem like enough. But that didn’t stop me from wondering about him. Which I didn’t have time to do if I wanted to make it to my second day of work on time.

Groaning, I rolled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face in a futile attempt to knock some sense into myself.

“Get it together, Sadie,” I muttered at my reflection.

I needed to focus. Just because I had another shift at the bakery today didn’t mean that Hunter would show up again. Replaying his low, rumbling “thank you” over and over in my head wouldn’t make him magically appear. No matter how much I wished otherwise.

After quickly getting ready, I snatched my keys off the counter and headed out the door. I spent the entire drive to the bakery reminding myself that I needed to focus on my job. Staring at the door all day would only get me fired.

Unfortunately, my heart didn’t listen.

I parked behind the bakery and let myself in through the back door, breathing in the sweet, yeasty smell that had already begun to fill the air. Marcy was in the kitchen, pulling a tray of blueberry muffins out of the oven, her hair tucked under a pink bandanna.

“Morning, Sadie,” she called without turning around.

“Good morning!” I replied, dropping my bag in the office before washing my hands and grabbing an apron.

The front of the bakery was still quiet, and out of habit, my gaze darted to each door, reminding myself that I wasn’t trapped before my anxiety got the best of me.

Then I set about loading fresh pastries into the display case. It was only my second day, but I already moved on autopilot, arranging trays of croissants and cinnamon rolls next to the items similar to what we’d carried yesterday.

When I was done, I went back to the kitchen, rubbing my palms together. “Good call on the new additions. Those cinnamon rolls look so ooey and gooey, it was hard not to sneak a taste.”

“Then it’s a good thing I already saved you one.” Marcy jerked her head toward a small bakery box on the counter. “All ready for you to take home if you don’t get the chance to nibble on it throughout the day.”

I beamed a grateful smile at her. “Thank you.”

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