Page 51 of For Butter or for Worse
Sighing, he pulls himself free and rolls over to pick up the phone. “It’s Emily,” he says with another groan. “Is it bad that I want to make Meg handle whatever is happening?”
As a ribbon of unease threads through my gut, I snatch the phone out of his hand and answer it. “Emily? What’s wrong?”
“Oh good, you’re alive! I got worried when you didn’t answer your phone because you always answer your phone but King tends to accidentally leave his at home sometimes so I wasn’t sure if—”
“Emily!”
“Right. Um, someone is here at the bakery, and he says he won’t go away until he talks to you.”
I flip the phone to speaker even though King is close enough that he can probably hear everything she’s saying anyway. “Who is he?”
“He won’t say, but there’s a guy with a camera here with him.”
I sigh. That could be good or bad, but it sounds like I need to head to the bakery either way. More than likely it’s related toHome Baked, whether it’ssomeone from the show itself or a reporter who somehow figured out where I disappeared to.
“I’ll be there soon, Emily. Thanks for letting me know.” I hang up and then exhale all at once, flopping my arm back onto the bed while still hanging on to King’s phone. “Is it bad that the only reason I think I should go to the bakery is because I don’t want to leave whatever it is up to Meg? I still worry she’s going to try sabotage at some point.”
When King doesn’t answer, I turn my head to look at him and find him gazing at me with hungry eyes. Apparently his reservations of last night aren’t nearly as strong as they were before. His expression is enough to catch the sheets on fire.
I can’t stop the smile that curls up my lips. I’m very much enjoying that look in his eyes, but I’m also enjoying the sight of his muscled body limned in soft sunlight as he lies stretched out beside me. “You’re trouble, you know that?”
He brushes the back of his finger across my cheek. “You’re beautiful.”
“I’m probably a mess.”
“I’ve always loved you more when you’re a mess.”
I clamp my mouth shut as a rush of excitement runs through me. King seems to know exactly what he just said, and there’s no embarrassment or hesitation in his eyes. “That’s a big word,” I mutter. And it’s one I haven’t heard him say in almost a decade.
He nods. “I know.”
I need to say something in return—he’s clearly waiting and hoping for it—but all of my words catch in my throat. Yesterday, it was easy to think I could be happy here for the rest of my life, but in the light of a new day, all of my old fears come creeping back in.
I press my palm to his cheek. “Let’s see what’s going on at the bakery, and then we can talk. Okay?”
He nods again, but I don’t miss the disappointment in his eyes before he sits up.
When we get to the bakery half an hour later, there’s quite a crowd gathered around the doors. Whoever is inside, he’s drawn a lot of attention, and I reallyhope it’s something good and not some kind of impending disaster. The knot in my stomach seems to think I’m not going to like what’s inside.
Holding King’s hand a little tighter, I start working my way through the crowd. Some of them are locals, and they’re quick to make room when they see us, but the tourists are more interested in the man inside than the two people trying to get past them.
I’m ready to start shouting by the time I reach the doors—I could still be in bed with my husband, but I’m stuck squeezing past sweaty Northerners because I wasn’t smart enough to use the back door. Even if this mystery person is someone good, I’m not going to be happy about him disrupting my morning.
I finally stumble inside, King right behind me. Through the mass of people in the lobby, I see the cameraman first, and the knot doubles in size because I recognize him. I recognize the man next to him even more.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I breathe. “Lane?”
Lane jumps to his feet when he sees me over the heads of the crowd. “Georgie!”
Ned, one of the cameramen fromHome Baked, quickly lifts his camera to his shoulder and starts filming.
“The idiot ex?” King asks quietly as Lane starts making his way across the lobby. “How do you want to handle this?”
I can’t decide if he’s asking what methods I want to use to throw my ex out of the bakery or if he’s really wondering if I might still harbor some feelings for the jerk, so I do my best to be as clear as possible with the limited time I have before Lane reaches us.
“I’m probably going to need you to hold me back from punching him in the nose. But I’ll see what he has to say before we kick him out.”
“‘We,’” King repeats with a grin.
