Page 31 of 40 and (No Longer) Fighting It
“Just dropping by.”
Of course you are.
Jared glanced around her store, his lip curled in a way that gave her the urge to come around the counter and smack the look off his face.
“How are things?” His gaze came back to hers, his opinion of her bakery clear. “Looks kind of quiet.”
She crossed her arms over her ribs, holding back the smug thought that at least her boobs were bigger than his new wife’s. She shouldn’t be that way, really, but damn it, they didn’t have to come into her store. Claire’s family never failed to keep her abreast of the latest addition to Jared’s brood anyway. And she didn’t know what to think about Sara—the woman had always seemed nice enough. Submissive, obviously. Jared wouldn’t have gone for anything else. Claire used to think the lights were on but nobody was home; now she just thought the woman was brainwashed into thinking she was living her best life. Maybe she was. If being under Jared’s thumb and only being loved if you were a willing baby-making machine was the best life, Claire certainly didn’t want it.
But a long time ago, she had. That was the only reason she didn’t hate Sara.
Jared was another story altogether. He knew exactly what he was doing every time he walked through the doors of the bakery, knew the pain he was digging out of its grave deep inside her.Hatewas a mild word for what she felt for Jared.
“Can’t say the same for you,” Claire finally said, dropping her glance across Sara’s belly. At least the more children the woman had, the less she could stand directly in front of Claire, her pregnancy unavoidable. The couple’s three little boys were excitedly circling the bakery store, pointing out everything they wanted to try. Claire felt sorry for them. It was a shame that Jared wouldn’t even spring for a cookie for the little crotch nuggets they popped out every couple of years.
“What better way to spend my time?” Jared asked.
Claire didn’t bother stopping her eye roll. “What else indeed.” Have a life, maybe? Jared wouldn’t understand what she was talking about even if she explained it.
The sound of footsteps coming from the kitchen had her holding back a groan. “Claire,” Lincoln’s deep voice called, “can you tell me where… Oh, I’m sorry.”
Even his rough voice couldn’t soothe her right now. And the fact that his apology was directed at the man in front of her wrecked any civility she’d managed to hang on to. “Don’t bother apologizing. They won’t buy anything anyway.”
Jared made a sound that was half surprised, half offended. “Are you calling me a cheapskate?”
“No, just petty.”
Lincoln’s hand settled on her back, his palm warm and comforting. A quick glance showed he was frowning at her ex, not at her. He was quick on the uptake, then. Not that she’d ever doubted it.
Jared’s eyes narrowed on the two of them, taking in the closeness of their bodies, the protective curve of Lincoln’s arm around her. He cocked his chin at Lincoln. “I believe I saw you at the pub last night.”
Lincoln’s body tensed against her. “Can’t say the same,” he replied, his tone arctic. He’d definitely picked up on the undertones of this conversation.
“Yeah, too busy with all those…women…buzzing around you.”
Claire had been aware of every woman that approached Lincoln last night, but he hadn’t flirted with any of them. He’d been polite, yes, but his focus had stayed on Claire. He’d made his interest—and his loyalty—plain.
“Mm.” Lincoln curled his fingers around her side, keeping her snug against him. He glanced pointedly at the ring on Jared’s finger, then at Sara as she trailed the boys around. “I’d think your focus should be on only one woman, shouldn’t it?”
“Sara doesn’t go to the pub,” Claire put in.
“But you do?” Lincoln’s tone was arch. “Interesting.”
His disapproval was plain. Claire could have explained the double standard to him, but why bother. It didn’t make sense to her either.
The bell over the door gave another jingle. Glancing around Jared, she mumbled, “Jesus.”
Lincoln ducked his head to her. “Okay?”
She turned and found herself face-to-face with him, his light eyes warming her with their concern just as his body chased away the chill. “I just can’t catch a break this morning.”
“What—”
“Claire.”
She turned to face the man who’d entered at just the wrong time. “Daran.” She angled her body toward Lincoln a little bit more. “Lincoln, this is my oldest brother, Daran. Daran, Lincoln Young. He’s the executive che—”
“I know who he is,” Daran interrupted.
